Suspicious Minds

The long-time residents of South Philadelphia need to get a grip.

Yesterday the lovely Arizona Dakota invited us over to Che Manton for a little South Philly style BBQ. Her friends from the United Kingdom are visiting, and she wanted to give them a true taste of urban Americana summertime fun.

But how can they BBQ at Che Manton without a yard of any kind, you ask? In true South Philly style, Arizona lugged her grill to the sidewalk in front of their house, and after losing one tank of propane to opportunistic thieves, she used her bike lock to secure the second tank to the grill. Ah, South Philadelphia.

We were having a grand old time, eating some delicious grilled meats and enjoying our summer beers on the front stoop. The sun was shining, the pigeons were scavenging for scraps and the across-the-street neighbors had ceased screaming obscenities for a few moments, giving us a sense of city-block peace.

A sweet looking little old lady shuffled past us, glaring all the while. (Maybe she's a vegetarian? I thought) After she passed us, she paused for a moment, turned around and very distinctly said "SLUT".

We were stunned for a half second. Was she talking to us? And why would she say... of all insults... what????

The half second didn't last for very long. As one, we said variations upon "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"I really don't want to get into a confrontation, but..." she said, approaching us rapidly.

"Then why did you say "slut"?" Amanda McKenna responded.

The woman then proceeded to go on some sort of crazy rant about the people who lived next to her (not coincidentally, that's Amanda's apartment) and the people who lived here (Arizona, Rachel and Dalice) having wild parties and dealing drugs and being up at all hours of the night and didn't they have a party on New Year's Eve that lasted until 4am? And there were people drinking at all hours and there are drug dealers who live on this street.

She left us with this parting shot: "My mother never would have lived on a street with RENTERS". Which was, by her intonation, a much more insulting word that her original "SLUT".

She shuffled off down the street, and Deb followed behind because she had to go to work. Of course the woman was waiting at her bus stop right by were Deb had locked her bike, so Deb got another earful from this woman. Deb stood her ground, telling the woman that she had no right to throw those terms at us and that she needed to apologize for being so nasty without provocation. But it became very apparent that this woman spends the majority of her time in her home, trapped in a web of her own paranoid delusions, perceiving slights and insults from this new generation of young people that she can't relate to.

And I think it really speaks to the people in our neighborhood as well. I'd like to go on record and say that I am tired of the stares and the looks and the muttering and the suspicions. Yes, we're new to the neighborhood. Yes, we look a little different from you. Yes, we're artists and therefore have different schedules and different ways of doing things. But we all have jobs, pets, hobbies. We pay our bills and live, love and have fun just like everyone else. I'm tired of this different-is-bad mentality.

Welcome to the new millennium, where just because we can't afford to buy houses in this overblown real estate market doesn't mean we aren't focused on our goals. Where people, regardless of gender or race or sexual orientation or age can succeed and form relationships and become adults together. Isn't this better than it was? Doesn't tolerance and love make so much more sense than suspicion and hate?

So a word to my next door neighbor who doesn't hide his hate for Deb & I and to that confused little old lady: GET OVER YOURSELF. Because we're here. And you can't stop time, no matter how hard you try.