Giving Up On Black America

See also: The Glories of Teaching Classics in the Inner-City To get to any bus that will take me to Manhattan or other parts of the city, I have to keep my eyes on the ground to avoid stepping on three things: dog crap, hacked up phlegm, and spoiled fast food. This is too bad because except for the people who mostly create this problem, the neighborhood, referred to by locals as the poor man’s Riviera, is actually quite wonderful. One reason that I’m not liked on my block is that I rarely make eye contact with people. Unfortunately, I’ve become more occupied with where my feet will land than with acknowledging and greeting my neighbors. Low-income and under-achieving blacks (and to a certain extent, Caribbean Hispanics) are a problem in the neighborhood. Although they are not the majority, it is their presence that is most obvious. It’s because of them that I have to keep my eyes fixed on the ground. They are the ones who play obscene music, who...(Read Full Article)

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