I finally reach 125th Street. The subway emerges from below ground and is flanked by buildings dressed in graffiti on all sides. The first structures I see are obviously red, grimy brick government buildings, where embellishment is not commonplace. They seem to loom over the streets, casting …show more content…
I lean forward trying to combat the incline as I pass a few men sitting on the stoop of a tiny grocery store. “Nice hair, girl” they yell at me as I pass. Now I am actually a bit scared. Sure, catcalling happens a lot more than it should, but this was Harlem. I duck my head and walk faster. Just keep going, I tell myself. I weave through more standard-issue buildings marked with signs paired with awkward names that attempt to honor famous historical figures. Finally, I take a right onto Amsterdam Avenue. Now, I’m not even sure of where I am. Apparently, I have reached an area known as SoHa, South Harlem. It seems like a real estate agent’s attempt to gentrify the edges of Harlem. I pass by multiple hip restaurants and bars before I reach my destination. Do they think they can change Harlem? And, do they need to? Finally, I am comfortable within the walls of the brightly colored …show more content…
Halloween decorations line the walls. The hostess dressed in the standard all black uniform and welcomes me to Kitchenette, allowing me to pick my table. Per usual, I can not decide which table to sit at, so she picks the one most convenient for her near the entrance, giving me a perfect view of the door. The tables are all brightly colored with mismatched wire and wood chairs. My table happens to be lime green with bright pink polka dots paired small notches left by the many others who have been there before me. The walls match my table and are covered with green beadboard. It certainly is homely. The unassuming decor and attitude make it feel comfortable and welcoming. It oozes a sense of community. I pull out my notebook and begin to scribble notes on my