Source of book: Borrowed from the library
This book is one of the NPR recommendations from last year. Sidik Fofana is a teacher, who decided to write about gentrification from the point of view of the tenants who are all too easily displaced. Like the author, the characters live and work in Brooklyn.
The Tenants Downstairs is a collection of eight interconnected short stories, each told from the perspective of a different tenant. Old men and women, middle aged residents, teens, and children each get a chance to tell their stories.
Through their stories, a picture emerges of a community under pressure and threat from forces bigger than them. Hanging on to their homes because of rent control and tenant protections, they find themselves a single missed payment away from eviction, as demand for their apartments by far wealthier people erodes the former lenience.
Nobody in this book is wealthy, but some are at least lower-middle-class, often working multiple jobs or having a side hustle to make the rent and keep the kids fed and clothed. The teens are juggling trying to learn in a struggling school with homelessness, deaths of family members, and bullying.
I’m not going to summarize the plots, but just note that every perspective is unique. The same incident is described differently by different characters - very true to life. The book isn’t long, but it is a good read.
There are a few quotes that I think express some pushback against the white, middle-class tendency to blame low income people for their own problems, particularly if those people have darker skin.
Our world is set up to “work” for certain people, and not for others. Just this last year, I have had several situations in my life where my options were an order of magnitude better simple because my wife and I make enough money to weather emergencies without worrying about the necessities. It makes a big difference, and I appreciate the privilege.
Just an example here is that a vehicle breakdown for our family is an inconvenience, not a threat. Yes, with kids in college and different schedules, getting everyone where they need to be is a pain in the butt. And it sucks to pay for car repair.
But neither of us risks losing our jobs, and the cost isn’t money that we needed for rent and food. That’s what having enough money means to us. Not buying the latest and greatest, but not having to worry.
As one resident, trying desperately to make rent, explains:
“You didn’t come up here for no shoot-ups. You came here to make a good life on your own.”
“People on TV don’t understand that and never will. They need to stop frontin like all people want in life is food and a roof.”
People in this book are complex. It is easy to see the flaws and the mistakes, but it is complicated. Like we all are. Some just have more of a margin for error. I thought this humorous moment was nice.
Me and Boons walk down two-fifth to my crib. Whole time Boons is bumpin into incense and soap stands and stoppin Yellow Cabs when they had the green light. He yellin, Y’all done fucked up and let me back, New York! Y’all shoulda flushed me down the toilet when y’all had the chance. That’s Boons, though. He the type to not learn shit in the bing.
Another fascinating moment comes when a gay guy explains how so many (particularly in movies) make assumptions about gay men that aren’t accurate, expecting them to be promiscuous and ready to kiss any other man when given the chance.
Look at all the movies. Anytime they show us, we gotta be on our knees. It can’t jus be us regular. If they did a movie about my buildin, they wouldn’t care about the two dudes upstairs who been together for years. They wouldn’t show when they jumped the broom in the bingo room. How everybody was happy even though it wasn’t official. They wouldn’t show the butch lady in 4D who is always wearing a necktie and got a computer certificate. They don’t care about that. That’s why we gotta be more. But some people is hell-bent on making you a prostitute.
But like I said to Qua all they think we do is run around givin each other sex. They think you gay was cuz suttin happened, even though you tell them you knew since the very first time you was at the public pool and you seen the lifeguard’s penis accidentally come out his shorts like a beaver. Again, that’s why I be careful what I do. I do what I do behind closed doors. I don’t be publicizin or braggin. When I’m around straight men, I make them feel comfortable. Even if I gotta change how I talk. That make it easier for all us. That’s what I tried to tell Qua. Plus, my aunt when she was alive said you can sell whatever you want, but it’s over when you start sellin you.
The last story, about an old man who just wants to sit outside on the sidewalk and talk people into playing chess with him, also has a line about misperception.
See, the problem is when you old, everybody think you satisfied with the livin you’ve done. They like to think of you as perfumed in dry piss waitin for your call to sunset. Never mind you could have a whole twenty years left. They’ll still act like your back is crooked. You think I just come out here to expire?
And that is how this book is: it pushes back on stereotypes, on assumptions, on the flattening we do when it comes to other people. No one in this book is simple. Everyone has hopes and dreams and weaknesses and a story to tell. And all of this is lived in community - the very thing that gentrification most threatens, just like redlining and freeway building has in the past.
It’s a short book, compact and succinct. It shows rather than preach, just giving a window into other lives, and the way they are lived. Give it a try and then take some time to think afterward.
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