I found last week particularly challenging as a resident of Franklin Avenue and a blogger trying to do right by whatever small measure of information I provide. Thanks to all who posted, including those who were attacked during this high-stress period (I don't know what I'd have done on Saturday if I'd been shot at from a rooftop with a water pistol, much less with a BB gun). Thanks in particular to Nat for emphasizing the importance of seeing the bigger picture and not reducing the incident to a gangland shooting. Apologies to Sue Rock and Ophra at Force and Flow, both of whom had great events last weekend that I forgot to run because I was too fried from the week to post anything beyond a dumb joke on Saturday. There are more great events coming up that I'll be posting about tomorrow, I promise.
What follows is something new for me, a long-form reflection on last week's various encounters with race, class, and violence in Crown Heights. I'm offering it up here (if you've got the time to read 2,300 words) as fodder for any and all comments, and I'll say from the outset that it's neither well-argued nor resolved, in any sense. I don't mean for it to be a manifesto or a final word on the state of the Avenue, just a reflection on a moment in time and space from a vantage point that felt difficult to occupy over the past week. Without further ado: