"My Philadelphia"

By Emily Wilhite

        My Philadelphia is a bus ride up Walnut Street. The trip begins with the bustling downtown, where everyone, no matter their race, hurries to get to work, to school or to just relax and go shopping. It is common needs and goals that bring everyone together. However, this melting pot is limited to Center City Philadelphia. You can see just about every race represented in Center City, from white to black, Asian to Hispanic to Middle Eastern. However, this vast mix begins to dwindle as the different groups separate into their various neighborhoods. The conglomeration disperses.
        I get on the bus to find the usual crowd, diverse. A few college students either catching up on reading homework or discussing what the plans are for the weekend; a young baby who fondly grabs onto her mother for protection against the swarm of people struggling to get a seat; the elderly women who chat about how well their grandkids are doing in school, or more seriously, the growing epidemic of crime in young people “these days”; the high school students are always the loudest, shouting insults to each other at the back of the bus. Every kind of person is represented: young, old, big, small, black, white, Asian, Arabic, Hispanic. There is a comfortable mix of people.
        The composition of the bus begins to change as we head west and pass the University of Pennsylvania. The college students trickle off the bus in groups, and the mother and daughter stagger off to walk the rest of the way home. By the time we reach 40th and Walnut, the bus is not the same bus which I entered. The bus no longer contains the diverse downtown crowd. It is clear that we are entering one of the many neighborhoods of Philadelphia. These neighborhoods are often segregated into sections with similar people who feel most comfortable with each other.
        This makes me really think about each section of our city as its own town. Chinatown is filled with the unique smells of Asian cuisines mixed with the sounds of foreign languages being yelled from one store to the next. South Philly is more diverse but many of the “South Philly girls” can trace their heritage back to when their families came to America from Italy. The South Philly streets are filled with the smells of cheese steaks and the greetings of, “yo, how youse doing?” I grew up in Fairmount, near the Art Museum, surrounded by white Americans. With a few exceptions, including my next-door neighbors, everyone who lived near me was similar. We could claim a little diversity with the Ukrainians who live scattered around my neighborhood, but for the most part we weren’t diverse, at least not ethnically diverse. It is these small enclaves throughout the city that separate the diversity of downtown Center City into neatly cut sections, allowing people to live within their comfort zone.
        By the time I near my stop at 52nd and Walnut, people begin to notice me. Before I was just a normal bus passenger, but now I stand out. My pale white skin contrasts to their dark chocolate skin and as we pass 50th and Walnut, I am the only white person left on the bus. To any suburban, white teenager this situation might feel uncomfortable, but to me it just feels normal. I’m sure my fellow passengers at this point wonder where I could be going. She couldn’t possibly be going home could she? She doesn’t look like anyone I know from around here. Did she miss her stop? But this doesn’t bother me. I enjoy the company of people who are different from the people who lived near me as I grew up. Going to high school with people from many different parts of the city and from different backgrounds has helped me to appreciate the unique aspects of cultures from throughout the world.
        I finally exit the bus at 52nd and Walnut to the noisy sounds of shoppers outside on the streets. I am now in the heart of West Philly. I do get stared at on my two-block walk to the YMCA as the African street vendor tries to sell me some knock-off Gucci sunglasses. It’s as if I’ve entered a completely different country from downtown. I’m immersed in a foreign culture. It is a good experience to be in the minority. These two blocks of walking alone, being gawked at, makes me most aware of who I am and also the segregation that still exists throughout Philadelphia. Although there has not been legal segregation for over fifty years, the reality of separation between ethnic and racial group still exists. Our neighborhoods are still divided into racial subsections. I understand that people want to live near people witch whom they feel most comfortable, but my wish is that Philadelphia will one day have neighborhoods divided, not by race, but by convenience to work and valued amenities.
        Some people are worried about safety in certain neighborhoods in Philadelphia, especially in West Philly. However as I walk the two blocks down 52nd street, I do not hear gunshots or feel personally threatened in any way. Instead, I feel more aware; aware of a neighborhood completely different from my own. I think a mix of cultures is a good thing, and I think back to the beginning of my journey down Walnut Street, where the streets are filled with diversity. I just hope that one day instead of having to take a bus trip all the way up Walnut Street, I can come home to my own neighborhood and experience the same culture I see, hear, and smell in West Philly.