A Black Man


Reed’s neighbourhood – Bedstuy – is a predominately black one. New York’s pretty sectioned off like that. Black neighbourhoods, white neighbourhoods, the Polish, the Chinese, the Korean, the Jewish, the Puerto Rican, and on and on and on community… Because New York is so massive, its divided communities are proportionately large. Large enough for an outsider to truly feel like one. You don’t really get that in Canada, which is where Reed’s girlfriend Katie and myself are from. We two stood outside the bodega while Reed bought his KitKat. A black man walked up to us and stopped to tell our faces, “I see white people.” The words and situation were so jarring that we lost track of what we were discussing. We struggled to continue on in order to seem unphased. He waited to hear.

“Uh….. Payday… That’s the one that’s like an Eatmore, I think,” I said.

“Yeah. I think that’s right.” Katie offered.

And that’s what white Canadian people talk about if you ever wanted to know.


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