Come Visit Harlem With Me

In 1790, there 115 slaves in Harlem. By 1827, southern bounty hunters were traveling up to Harlem to seek escaped slaves. It couldn’t have been too hard to locate them. There were only spattering of African-American people in upper Manhattan. However, that would change.

Phillip Payton is considered the “father of Black Harlem.” In the late 1800s, he settled down in Harlem where he became a real estate broker. In 1904, Payton sent out a message to landlords all over the village of Harlem, “Rent Colored!” They heeded his call. Black lawyers and doctors soon moved to Harlem. By 1915, their were 5,000 blacks in Harlem. By 1926, Central Harlem became known as “Little Africa.” Blacks migrating from the southern states were sure to rent for higher sums of money in Harlem but the segregation laws broke down across West 110th Street. Soon it became the Negro Mecca with a population of 250,000. Black novelists, musicians, actors, authors, athletes and social critics were drawn to Harlem. From singer Billy Holiday to boxer Sugar Ray Robinson, black America’s notables made the area known as “uptown” home.

By the time, I moved to Harlem in the mid-eighties, it was not the place that James Weldon Johnson and Claude McCay had written about in their epic poems. The heroin epidemic of the seventies had cooled down but a super drug named crack was destroying a generation. Harlem was poor. The neighborhood where I lived was almost one hundred percent black. And I say "almost" so as not to overstate the case. In actuality, I can’t recall seeing a single white person who lived in the community at all.

Yes, the Harlem I knew was poor but it was proud, brave, strong, loving and courageous. It smelled of everything form plantains to collard greens. And its people were beautiful beyond description.

In August of 2017, I traveled back to my beloved Harlem. It has changed so much and yet, so much of what I loved is still there. I want to share with you what I saw but first, I must share this timeless poem about the limitations of black dreams. It’s called, “Harlem (A Dream deferred).”

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Welcome to Harlem August, 2017

First sign of gentrification. I stopped in here for a cup of tea and found out that it would cost me $4.00!!! IN HARLEM!

I have been to Africa, the Caribbean and both sides of America. One thing is true every place that I have traveled, Black people have a deep reverence and respect for religion. After we set our suitcases down in Harlem, the first things we built in Harlem were the beautiful, gothic churches.

Brothers check their phone messages after having emerged from a church service on Lenox Avenue on a hot, hazy, Saturday afternoon in Harlem.

Black Hebrew Israelite leader breaks down their theology on a Harlem street corner.

The Black Hebrew Israelites have been in existence since 1969. They are often seen in the streets of New York City and other cities arguing their theology.

A member of the Nation of Islam sells the Final Call on the Streets of Harlem. I told him that I almost blinded myself staring at his shoe shine. He laughed. These brothers are always meticulously dressed. Harlem has been a Nation of Islam stronghold since the days when Minister Malcolm X walked these streets.

Born again believers walk the streets of Harlem on a Saturday afternoon, sharing the message of Jesus, birth, crucifixion and resurrection with neighbors. Here they stop to pray with a community member. Notice it says, "Jesus Saves" in red letters on their shirts.

One of my favorite places on the Planet Earth is the Schomburg Library and Museum in Harlem. It boasts the largest collection of black literature and artifacts of any museum of any kind in the world. It was founded by Arturo Schomburg, a black, Puerto Rican scholar. Here, I am pointing at two of my beloveds. The first is Sonia Sanchez, an amazing Harlem poet. The second Second is Queen Mother Moore. Oh, I how I miss her. She really was a matriarch of Harlem who went out of her way to being kind, loving and friendly to people. She was a respected and revered leader in the community when I lived in Harlem. She has since passed away.

Sister Sonia Sanchez and Queen Mother Moore, two precious souls who made Harlem the center of our universe.

An original invitation to hear El Hajj Malik El-Shabazz aka Minister Malcolm X speak at the Audobon Ballroom. The event being advertised here took place just 6 days before he was assassinated and it took place in the ballroom where he met his end. How fateful!

An announcement for a memorial to be held in honor of Malcolm X, 3 years after his demise. Take a look at the invited guest speakers.

Say It Loud! Does anybody remember when these slogans were used on an everyday basis in the community? Great times. We miss you James Brown!

Lastly, Mario Van Peebles created a movie in 1991 called, "New Jack City." It was a riveting picture of the crack epidemic that destroyed so many good people in Harlem. This is the building that they used as the "Carter," headquarters of a notorious crack empire. I lived 4 blocks from here in those days. I will never forget it.

Thank you for taking this tour with me. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to post them here.