This new neighborhood didn’t come with a warning.

That eviction notice was disguised in the form of a coffee shop, it fooled us into thinking that things were looking up for us.

Neon lights in my hood, shining on blocks that were named the most crime infested streets in Brooklyn.

Now they ride their bikes through parks that were once filled with the people they called hoodlums.

Now they jog down our streets, work in our comfortable spaces, while we code switch to avoid the terrified looks of their faces.

When we’re just simply existing.

These new “Brooklyn-ites” took our homes and changed our space.

We have to adapt to their new steady pace.

A new trend of “urban aesthetic”.

A new wave of “culture” that they remixed.

The things that once reminded me that I’m home, that I’m safe, are now overpriced, overbooked, just not the same.

Give me back my corner store, without the avocado salad.

Give me back my block parties, DJ’s mixing, with the base bumping loudly.

I wanna enjoy myself without being a target of appropriation.

It’s not too much to ask for, safe relaxation.

This new neighborhood didn’t come with a warning.

So pack your shit, we never invited you to our house warming.



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