West Philadelphia

           West Philadelphia (excluding the gentrified University City) is an interesting place. There are childcare centers, fried food places, accessory and wig vendors, sidewalk vendors selling Obama t-shirts and sports caps, Arabic tax prep centers, and pockets of nascent construction. 56th and 60th street, specifically, is a morass of small businesses. A string of cheap liquor shops, grocery stores, hair salons, pizza joints, sandwich shops, fake Chinese restaurants, with apartments scattered to boot. The roads aren’t as maintained, and so you’ll step on more cracks and gravel and small puddles than if you were in University City. 

           Yes, not everyone is nice. You’ll hear a good continuum of standard black dialect if you’re traveling on public transportation (SEPTA), whether it’s the use of double negatives (‘don’t nobody’), the use of ‘be’ as a verb (‘he be’) or the dropping of auxillary verbs (‘they hiring’). And you’ll hear phrases like ‘ain’t’ and ‘I been out there.’ This is only heard in casual conversation, of course, and through solicitous eavesdropping on SEPTA. Some say that West Philly is dangerous but I’ve spent a good amount of time there and I will tell you that I’ve never been offended, yelled out,  or approached strangely. I’ve never been followed, mugged, or felt threatened past 55th street. Of course, I’m male, so that helps my chances of not being harassed; but weirdly enough, I feel more out of place on Penn campus. Of course, pockets of West Philly are not as safe as others. And I don’t go there late at night; I stick to the main streets, carry few valuables, and pay attention. Sometimes, 99% of not being targeted is keeping your eyes open. 

           That’s why I roll my eyes when students are afraid of walking past 45th street as a general rule of thumb. I want to tell them, ‘You’ve never been in West Philly. You don’t know what it’s like.’ Moreover, unspecific ‘rules’ hinder geographic understanding; even though I volunteer at 56th street, there are areas between LIFT and Penn campus I actually avoid. For example, I am not fond of the area next to Local 44 (44th and Spruce) at night. It’s located on a hill and poorly lit at night, and cars fly by that intersection, so you wouldn’t see a speeding car until you’re on top of that hill. So I don’t go out of my way to frequent that bar very often. Sometimes, street sense can save your life. 

           LIFT, to put it simply, is a national nonprofit helping low-income families with employment, housing, public benefits (this is the small blurb I employ when pitching the org to other Penn students). We are what you could call a poverty center, but concretely, this means we spend most of our time helping 30-50 year olds search and apply for jobs via the Internet. Each volunteer has probably written more than a dozen resumes and cover letters each semester they’ve been with LIFT. We help people file their FAFSA online, check on the status of their unemployment benefits, look for cheap apartments in Philly, apply for LIHEAP (Low-Income Home Energy Assistance Program), file a food stamp application, and do their taxes (for free!). Now you might ask how 50-75 college students are all able to do this for clients. The truth is we don’t. We don’t really know how supplemental income works for a 1099-E, or how unemployment claims are processed, or even which neighborhoods in Philadelphia are in the ghetto or not. Technology through a simple computer program called the Benefit Bank helps us categorize income (1040s, W-2s, etc). Clients (generally black women and men) tell us which areas of Philly are unsafe—particularly where they don’t want to live. And even in this era of endless “put-you-on-hold” phone lines and Internet (in)accessibility, a simple phone call can sometimes cut through the bureaucracy that is the Pennsylvania Department of Labor.