LETTER: My Own West Philadelphia

Guest Column: By Elizabeth Elegbede My neighborhood is one in which blacks, whites and Asians, Americans and foreigners of varying social, educational and economic backgrounds mingle on a daily basis. Of my two corner grocers, one is a Korean married to a white American and the other is an African-American man whose parents own and operate the laundromat. Both stores are a place of friendly chats with customers, and both will give me a quart of milk on credit. My letter carrier is an energetic African-American who hands me the mail even if I ask her for it blocks away from my house. Across the street from me live several taxi cab drivers from Sierra Leone who sit out on their porch in the evenings, conversing in their native Krio. As I walk up the street, I pass a handsome, traditionally Irish-American church and go on to where I buy my African foods at the Vietnamese-Chinese store. I turn a corner, and find an anarchist hang-out, a black barber shop for men, a Chinese take-out, an alternative health food cooperative, as well as two restaurants offering Eritrean and Ethiopian cuisine. My West Philadelphia neighborhood welcomes all kinds, and knows it's different strokes for different folks. Yet my own private utopia is also a place of difficulty. We, too, have our share of decay, crime, drugs and racial tension. As West Philadelphians, we are tolerant, but we are also strikingly different from one another. An Ivy League student from the Midwest and a single parent juggling two jobs and a baby may have very different priorities. A conservative African-American and a poor Cambodian teenager may have conflicting ideas of what constitutes proper behavior. And sometimes our differences are sadly annihilated when we become victims of violent crime. The murders in September of a Penn student and in December of a working-class African-American have shown us this. However, to me, the solution is not to abandon ship but to continue to foster community and a sense of belonging so that, indeed, we shall overcome one day. Despite its problems, and because of its vibrant liveliness, West Philadelphia is to me a place of hope. It is a place where America can rise to the challenge of turning diversity not into a campus-style buzzword but into a genuine asset.