just a man

I have a love-hate relationship with the city (Philadelphia). It’s dirty, crowded and people are rude, but it’s also overflowing with culture and what I like to refer to as “learning opportunities.”

Several years ago, a friend of mine came to visit from Maryland for the first time. A man who grabbed his balls with one hand and flipped off a car with the other as he was crossing the street at 10th and Walnut properly initiated her.

That’s Philadelphia.

My own struggle is rooted in having worked in the dirtiest, poorest parts of the city for the past decade. These are the places where, for many young men, hope is just hoping to make it until their twenty-first birthdays.

I’ve tried to counter balance this by making an effort to have positive experiences in the city. At least once a week I will go to a park, coffee shop or even just walk the streets in one of my favorite neighborhoods to soak it all in.

Recently, my friend and I were at a bar and started talking to man who was sitting by himself. He had recently moved here from the Boston area. Prior to that he had lived in a few other big cities, but he liked Philadelphia the best. He said that living here was the first time he felt like people treated him like just a man, instead of a black man.

That’s Philadelphia.