Approaching a Bourgeois

Allow me to set the scene:

I’m walking down this street after getting off the train.  I’m headed home after a day at work or after going to church or spending time exploring some part of New York.  Where I’m coming from doesn’t matter.  What matters is that my goal is to get home.

About 15 feet away, walking toward me is a man.  He’s:

A.      20-25. Wearing a doo rag, a wifebeater and some light wash jean shorts.  His arms are covered w/ tattoos and there’s a cigarette in his hand.

B.      40-50.  Wearing a polo shirt and plaid shorts.  He’s missing a few teeth in the front and he has a pot belly.

C.      50-60.  Wearing no shirt, blue jeans and he doesn’t speak English.

His race doesn’t matter.  What matters is that, despite my efforts to fade into my surroundings, he’s seen me.  And he has that look in his eyes.

[INSERT APPROPRIATE EXPLETIVE HERE]

Him:  (slowing down) Hey, Sexy. Do you know how beautiful you are?

Me:  (walking faster, polite smile)  Thank you.

Him: (stops walking)  Are you married?

Me:  (speeding up, pretending like I’m too far to hear him)...

Him:  Are you?

Me: (rounding the corner)…

Him: Is that a yes?

This (or some variation of this story) happens to me ALL. THE. TIME.  Before I moved here, I knew I was a magnet for old men (maybe I give off the scent of fresh baked cookies, extra flowerly perfume, wigs, peppermint candy, etc.).  But, apparently, I'm kryptonite for thugs too.  I've even gone outside wearing this (see below) and 2 guys tried to get my attention.

Don't worry - I'm always polite & avoid being rude.  People are crazy and I'm not trying to be anyone's victim.  But, what I really wanna ask these guys is:

"What is it about me that makes you think I'd be interested in you?  Please tell me!"

I mean, the clean cut, polite guys, who have jobs are not checking for me.  I can't get anyone to approach me saying, "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you.  But can I talk to you for a minute?" to save my life.  Where are those guys at? 

Before I moved here about 100 people said, "The guys on the East Coast are so different from the ones on the West Coast.  They'll approach you and won't wait for you to come to them."  Yes, these men here in the hood definitely have some confidence.  But, um...  I should have known those women didn't know what they were talking about.  None of them are married to any of these "confident" East Coast men.  What do they know?  :-)

Anyways, I try my hardest to be grateful and take these encounters as reminders from God that I am presenting myself well and that He thinks I'm beautiful.  But, sometimes I wonder: "Is this the best I can hope for?"

Please, God, let the answer be a big fat NO!

Bourgeois Observations

Don't really feel like typing today AND I'm actively trying to learn all of the fancy features on my new laptop (that I got in March, but have only used like a dozen times).  So, I put together a video and today, you get a VIDEO BLOG!

I promise the videos will get better.  :-) Enjoy!

Bourgeois Grocery Shopping

I refuse to get groceries from the stores in my immediate vicinity.  If there are flies all around...uh uh....If I can walk into the store and smell the meat or fish...NOPE.  If the store is dirty or shelves unstocked,  I just can't...SMH.  Shoot, if the employees don't look clean and friendly in a store, I'm turned off.  Unfortunately, that's what the stores are like in my neighborhood.

The creates a bit of a challenge for me.  There isn't a Trader Joe's within walking distance.  I could rent a ZipCar.  But that's not the most economical option.  It's possible that I could take the train.  But, do you know how much energy (not to mention time) that requires?  

Then, I discovered online grocery shopping.  It's extremely convenient.  They deliver my groceries on the day and during the window of time that I choose.  My selected items are cold or frozen if they need to be.  It's great!  The drawback?  The cost of convenience.  It is not cheap.  You don't get Trader Joe's or Vons Club prices online.  The other problem is that the online stores don't always have the brands I like.

And so, the search continues for an acceptable grocery store within walking distance of my house.  Recently, I found one that didn't send me running in the other direction.  It's a little far (in nearby Williamsburg), so I can't go on my way home from work.  But the distance provides a nice walk (past a few projects, lots of delis, etc.).  So we'll see....

Anyways, since I don't have a car anymore, I have to have a plan about how I'm going to get all of my groceries home if I don't order online.  It's a common challenge.  So everyone here figures out what's best for them.

Watch the video to learn about my options.  :-)

Intro to Bourgeois in Bed-Stuy

Until recently, the only place I'd ever lived was California.  I grew up in the Bay Area in a comfy suburb called Vallejo.  Vallejo's claim to fame was a 6 Flags and the fact that E-40 (yes, the rapper) was from there.  It has its shady areas (like anywhere else, I guess).  But, my neighborhood was full of tract houses, families, 3 car garages and kids on bikes, skates, skateboards, etc.

I went to college in LA at the University of Southern California.  It is, admittedly, in South Central LA.  But we were perfectly safe.  The surrounding neighborhoods were full of students.  Obviously, you didn't want to do stupid things at the wrong time of day or night.  But, that's true anywhere, right?

Anyways, about a year after I graduated, I moved to the San Fernando Valley - home of the stereotypical Valley Girl.  All references to Clueless aside (a movie I actually enjoyed, by the way), I loved the valley.  It reminded me of the Bay Area and I was content there.  I had my favorite Trader Joe's, Vons and Target stores.  My trusty Nissan Versa got me everywhere I needed to go.  Because I parked underground at my rented condo, I rarely had to battle the weather, which (let's face it) was not often bad in Sunny So Cal.  The people who walked my neighborhood were moms (or nannies) walking babies in strollers and people of all ages walking small and mid-sized dogs.

In short, I lived in the burbs.  And I liked it.  :-)

Then, 2013 happened.  I got a promotion at work to a position that I wanted very badly.  The catch?  The job was in New York.  I. Had. To. Move. Booooo!

I won't bore you with that whole process or my feelings about moving across the country cuz that's not the point of this blog.  For better or for worse (jury's still out on which it is), I live in New York now.  Brooklyn, to be exact.  This blog is about my adventures in my new home - the Bed-Stuy area of Brooklyn.

Bed-Stuy (short for Bedford-Stuyvesant) is home to a large African American community in Brooklyn - probably the largest.  The neighborhood I live in has several projects (there's one right across the street from my house), some rundown and abandoned homes and lots of small delis and mom & pop stores.  While it's no war zone, it also ain't the valley.  It's not affluent.  It's not the burbs.  It's the hood.

Don't feel sorry for me.  My apartment is lovely - spacious, safe and full of small details that make it unique.  Despite the things I hear and see, I've never felt unsafe while in my building.  I've never seen anyone shot.  I don't hear alarms going off all the time.  But, the fact remains, I live in the hood.  NYPD regularly patrols this area.  The sidewalks are always dirty (which is actually true of New York City in general).  People walk about wearing next to nothing.  Wife beaters & doo-rags abound.  The neighbors play loud music until all hours of the night.  People are ALWAYS yelling (in arguments, at their kids, at the pigeons).

I live in the hood.  But, it wasn't until I moved here that I realized something important about myself that I never recognized before - I'm bourgeois.

NOTE:  For the record, when I write "bourgeois," I'm thinking "boozhee" (with a soft j sound).  I just can't bring myself to spell it wrong.  You are free to pronounce it however you like.  :-)