“Even I can see the neighborhood is changing, I am a part of it, it is a part of me. Chinese Taiwanese from Chicago, Black from Seattle, Jamaican from Columbus, Pakistani from Austin, Mexican from San Francisco, we, are the slightly less visible marauders. Ruffling the edges of rents upward, hanging out at Havana Outposts, kicking back mojitos in the summertime. Designer sneakers, designer sunglasses, designers jeans, or at least the knock offs. Will the real Bedstuy please stand up?”
Check out Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai‘s poem The Ballad of a Maybe Gentrifier, about living in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn.