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.  :-)