Listening Walk: 125th Street Harlem

As I think about one of the first significant and impactful experiences in my learning journey at Klingenstein Center, Nicole Furlonge’s book, Race Sounds, had a profound impact on me and the framing of my experience at the Center. In her book she talks about the “low frequencies” of culture and communities and utilizing our senses to observe patterns and trends. Things we might not have observed before, things we might have missed. Taking time to be intentional and seek out the truth in our communities and ourselves.

I take daily walks throughout the school where I work, and each time I observe something new, connect with people in different ways, and glean a new sense of the fabric of our community. One of the best things about working in independent schools is that no two days are the same, and stitched together collectively, weave a journey and story over time. It can be circular in reference, but ultimately, no two students are the same, no two faculty or staff are the same, and every journey and experience is unique.

One of our early assignments was to engage in a listening walk in and around our environment. The location of Teachers College, Columbia University, and in proximity to Harlem is a cultural dialog that I hadn’t considered before this opportunity. Having spent my early career in New York, I know the city and the surrounding boroughs well. I experienced troubling situations and observed the friction of gentrification and the long history of New York’s unique cultural landscape. The city is steeped in a history of immigration and hope. Hope for a new life, a better life, and it has an independence and vibrancy that can be observed so obliquely.

Humanity is leveled by the common existence of daily life. Subways, crowded sidewalks, food carts, and just the hard landscape of concrete peppered by bucolic green spaces. Neighborhoods are bubbles, but abut each other to the extent that the bubbles are veils of boundaries. Shoulder to shoulder, corner to corner, the city is a microcosm of the world. Conflict, connection, anger, and happiness, can all be experienced amongst its denizens, but the common humanity is what bonds people together. It’s fascinating.

When I was a student and in my early career in New York, I oscillated between specific areas and never really ventured up to Harlem. Taking an opportunity of this listening walk, I decided to head there to see what I could observe both in the community and in myself. What follows in my assignment submission, and rereading it allowed me to relive that day and the power of the experience.

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I found this walk through Harlem earlier this evening to be overflowing with senses and stimulation. The urban sounds, prevalent throughout the city cuts a different way up here. There’s a pulse and vibe far more genuine and authentic than other neighborhoods I’ve visited and an agency to be who you are. There’s so much history still peeking through the urban gentrification, and a powerful presence of those who came before.

I just started writing without planning on poetry, but the way I remembered the moments, the way it resonated in my head, it just came out in this form. I hope it is not viewed as pretentious. The sense of the unknown of a culture I had no connection with, and an absurd naivety, is what fueled my fear as a young 20-30 year old from the suburbs of California. That was 20 years ago, and today I’m older, wiser, and more attuned to what this place is/was about. I still have a lot to learn, and plan to spend a lot more time walking around, taking pictures, drawing and meeting people.

125th Street Harlem

The sound of rubber basketballs
bouncing off of concrete and fencing
Echoed off the canyon walls
Of the surrounding apartment buildings

Water gushes from a hydrant
Flowing freely down Amsterdam Avenue
Towards 125th street Harlem.

125th street Harlem
125th street Harlem

You can see the crossing traffic ahead
As gravity draws you closer
Buses, taxis, the endless stream of cars
Steam by silently in the distance

But as I get closer, the energy picks up
And like two rivers converging
Both the anticipation and excitement build.

The smell of incense, cigarettes, and pot
Drown out the scent of the flowers blooming
The urban bloom of summer

Listening to the inhale and the exhale,
The bartering banter to make a sale,
The tap and flip of the butt to the curb.
And the buzzing about of the local denizens
Create a chorus of culture.

Sirens bounce off of the buildings and streets
The fire trucks peel out of their house and head west
It’s a minor disruption that stirs few
As they continue to go about their business

As if nothing happened.

The high pitched screeches
From the subway below erupts from under the sidewalk
Like a passing creature just below the surface

Again, nothing. It’s woven into the fabric
Of the cacophony of flowing dissonance

The murmurs of conversations surround me
As I pass by small groups and couples
Some are jovial, some arguing, rattling off expletives
Some sit alone burrowed into their chests

Sadness or sorrow?
One may never know.

I used to think that this was a dangerous place
When I lived in New York City many years ago.
And never once ventured to 125th street Harlem

125th street Harlem
125th street Harlem

Where our nation’s former slaves found a renaissance
Where so many artists, writers, musicians,
singers, dancers, and designers thrived.
Where I put into context the memoir of Daniel Day
Or more infamously known as Dapper Dan.

I looked for his style, his influence, listened to the words
The language, the community
That I know so little about and am no longer afraid of

What’s to fear in a community?
The daring to be different
The defiance to be bold
The deft to be creative

125th street Harlem
125th street Harlem

A place where voices sing
Louder than the urban swing
Amidst the cacophony of flowing dissonance
A place of the true American renaissance