Battleground: Bed-Stuy

ROLLING BROWNSTONES Newcomers are flocking to Hancock Avenue, shown here, and Jefferson Avenue, below.

At stake: A traditionally working-class African-American neighborhood faces major demographic change as crime rates plummet and housing prices rise.

The combatants: Lifelong residents (mostly black) vs. new arrivals (mostly not black)

Lyrics by Jay-Z and the late Notorious B.I.G. helped burn Bedford-Stuyvesant into the city’s consciousness, but they never made this slice of central Brooklyn sound like an appealing place to live. It was the 65 percent crime drop over the past 13 years that changed outsiders’ perceptions—and sparked a war of words and checkbooks.

In play is block after stately block of quasi-affordable brownstones—in a neighborhood that’s 75 percent black and that was, for many decades, one of the few places in Brooklyn where black families could avoid exclusionary practices and buy homes. A few years ago, local leaders tried to change the informal motto from “Bed-Stuy, Do or Die” to “Bed-Stuy, and Proud of It.” As the area’s character changes, old-timers wonder whether the first slogan might not be more appropriate than ever.

Colin Porther likens the neighborhood to a callaloo, the Caribbean soup that combines many disparate ingredients. But in the century-old building on Gates Avenue where the 24-year-old Trinidadian native lives, that stew’s changed over the past ten years. There’s been an influx of wealthier (and whiter) tenants, who often pay hundreds or even thousands more in rent than the residents they replace.

These newcomers share the hallways with families who have roots in the building stretching back two generations or more, and who remember a time when neighbors were close enough that they had no qualms about disciplining each other’s children. But while Porther and his girlfriend, Keisha Waltron, make an effort to get to know their neighbors, some new tenants announce themselves only by the rock music that blares behind their walls.

“There used to be guys hanging out at night in front of our building,” Waltron recalls. “But now the cops tell them to leave. You also see nannies walking around the neighborhood, pushing strollers while the kids’ parents are off at work. You never used to see that.”

The conflict between new and old, white and black residents is certainly less destructive than the drug wars of years past. Yet in some ways, this divide threatens the viability of one of America’s largest black communities, where a full quarter of the homes are owner occupied.

“There are more Caucasian faces around, and that’s fine,” Porther says. “But it does make you wonder what’s going to happen if they keep pushing black people back. Where are we going to live?” For some of Porther’s neighbors, the answer is that they’re going to stay right where they are. “To us, this is Bed-Stuy and this will always be Bed-Stuy,” says Tammy Mitchell. “This is what we do every day. We sit out on the stoop after work and drink a beer. Nothing is going to change that. Not now and not ever.”—JRS