I hop on my crappy old bike in the 90-degree heat and set off for a section of West Oakland I have never been to. What is odd is that it is on the same street I live just several blocks away, how isolated I’ve been in my cozy North Oakland neighborhood.
As I cruise down Martin Luther King Jr. Way past 40th, the scenery changes rapidly. One minute the billboards are for Verizon and the newly remodeled houses are finished with brightly colored paint. The next, I see church after church, liquor store after liquor store and overgrown parking lots.
No one wants to talk, everyone seems afraid I am a cop. I don’t blame them. A young white girl with a bike, bunch of tattoos and a pen. How often and when do the residents of this neighborhood see that?
The sense of distrust I got from the residents I interviewed contrasted with the closeness I witnessed between the families on that hot Thursday evening. Stoop after stoop was crowded with family members and friends all in minimal clothing laughing, talking and drinking cool beverages to ward off the heat.
The stoop parties were one scenery I didn’t want to see change as the blocks progressed and actually didn’t. I became a jealous observer riding through an unfamiliar block.
The muggings, shootings, prostitution and drug activity I am warned against repeatedly by residents of the neighborhood is burned deeper into my mind with one sign hanging ten feet above my head. A sign put up by the City of Oakland stating that prostitution and drug dealing would be prosecuted against to the fullest extent of the law. I have never seen a sign like that before.
Not much going on this street at least that day. I’m hoping to explore more of Mandela Parkway and the Ghost town neighborhood to get more of a feel for the commercial aspect of West Oakland.
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