Last Summer on State Street

We didn't know then that the practice of burying emotions created adults who'd struggle to build meaningful relationships; some of us would eventually completely forget how to access true feelings

Black kids ain’t got the luxury of not knowing what they want to do,” she said, and I felt stupid. She kept talking, because Mama Pearl was never in the business of making you feel good when she thought you needed a lesson.

That girl in Roseland had called me a project kid, and it was the one slur I couldn’t get out of my head that whole summer.

I heard someone say, “Cause she from the projects.” That hurt more than those kicks to my side.

I’d learn that so many things that I thought were solid and structured in my life could be broken down, bit by bit, just like those buildings.

At church, we looked up for so long, that when we came back down to our lives, we felt stronger to deal with the mess.

Anything can make you vulnerable to name-calling, and those names cut into the skin sometimes, enter the bloodstream. Somehow that summer, I stumbled upon an important fact about naming: it also has the power to build people up.

Maybe the worst part about growing up in public housing is that people think your body is public too. That even before you are born, your Black body already belongs to the owners of the land. That night, Meechie spent about two hours in jail, and that's all it took to cement his identity.

The memories won't go away; they're proof that once upon a time, I lived in a brick skyscraper on State Street, in a place where stairwells filled with echoes stampeding gym shoes and harmonizing winos. These memories won't let me believe that I dreamt up Precious, Stacia, and Tonya, but All in Together is over.

Mama Pearl told me that they Chicago Landmarks. I’m writing this letter mostly because I wanna tell you that YOU a landmark too.

That night, he went to jail because he was Black and a boy, and to the police, that fit the description of a criminal. I’d learn that Black kids didn’t get the luxury of appearing childlike and innocent, that from the moment we are born, some people start a clock on how long it’ll take the boys to commit a crime, the girls to seduce.

The land had returned to its humble beginnings, back to before someone decided to overcrowd it with bricks and gates and too many people.

The essence of optimism is that it takes no account of the present but it is a source of inspiration, of vitality and hope where others have resigned. It enables a man to hold his head high, to claim the future for himself and not to abandon it to his enemy.

Fee, you know what I think? The boys who done already made a plan for they lives, they do better than the ones who get invited into somebody else’s. I ain’t worried about you and no gangs, but if you ain’t thinking about what you want with this life, you might just fall into somebody else’s vision.

them trains from the South, then this here moving from neighborhood to neighborhood. It’s sheeping. Folks gathering up coloreds and sheeping them this way and that. They done sheeped your brother into prison. Trying to sheep us on further into the South Side.

Child, Bible say, no new thing under the sun. This here migrating, it’s all we been doing: them ships from Africa,

I looked at her. My eyes grew wider, because I realized that Mama Pearl was telling me that years ago, the same thing happening to us, happened already; that a whole neighborhood of Black people had to get up and leave because people with wealth and power wanted the land they’d settled on.

Then, the Illinois Institute of Technology say, I want this land for a school building. You coloreds gots to go. So in 1952, they close it and tear ’em down.

it seemed to add a new crack in my heart.

himself at the summer camp for gangbangers. Where a dude could be a dude, no mothers nagging or sisters questioning the stupid things you do, just cops, always the police showing up. My brother had signed up for an ongoing game of cops and robbers. He’d been out there for a few weeks now, but it looked like he’d really settled into his new life in the streets. Every time I saw him outside like this,

Then I saw my brother a distance away. I wanted to run over to him and get a much-needed hug and some encouraging words, but that Meechie wasn’t available anymore. He didn’t even notice me; he was laughing and talking to some girl, enjoying

My mouth opened, and my eyes widened. I cried some more, because I just couldn’t understand why people like Precious and my cousin TJ had fathers who stuck around, and I got one who was a hype.

second, then said, “Your daddy had a drug problem.

Fee, some kids don’t get parents who protect them.” I nodded, thinking about Tonya. “I wasn’t going to let that happen to you.” She stopped for

Baby, I bet your daddy would’ve loved to be in your life, but he’s not well.” “Mama,” I said, and the tears just fell, “why some kids get to have their daddy and others don’t?” Mama was crying; I could feel her shaking.

I was so happy to hear that we wouldn’t be trapped in relocation purgatory that awaited the families with kids who’d been in and out of jail. Something was bothering me, though.

I received a letter last week that said we will be leaving public housing! I’m going to find us a nice neighborhood, baby.

For the few weeks she was all short with me, answering questions quick, and not getting all in my business, I wondered if I’d ever see my sweet mama again. Then she did come back. Maybe she remembered that she still had a kid at home, and that I still needed her.

After Tonya told me her secret, I had more headaches. Some days, I didn’t even realize I was worrying until wiggling lights started creeping across the room or I got that funny feeling in my throat that nausea created. Most days, I’d catch it before the pain in my head started. Mama always helped me lie down and put something over my eyes. I could tell she was still sad that Meechie had

That was the most dangerous part of the block? The demolished building? There wasn’t enough caution tape in the world for our neighborhood.