“Where are you from?” The words “I’m from Brooklyn” explode from my mouth like a firecracker. I walk differently after saying it. My steps are a bit harder; chest pushes more forward, head held higher in the air. There’s a certain pride that consumes me whenever someone asks me about my hometown. The feeling rises into my chest whenever the train doors close on Delancey Street, and the J train begins its descent over the East River. When I see her approaching across the water from the Williamsburg Bridge, suddenly all my problems seem to vanish. I’m home. Cypress Hills serves as the border between the boroughs of Brooklyn and Queens. It is a subdivision of the larger East New York area. Although small in size, Cypress Hills lacks no personality. A unique attribute of Cypress Hills is its above-ground subway stations. As the train periodically passes by, the screeching of its wheels fill the streets below with its harmonious melody. That sound will be …show more content…
The cemetery is one of my hometowns biggest landmarks; it stretches from one end of the borough to the next. In some ways it sets the tone for the neighborhood, it is a wave of tranquility amid a sea of chaos. For me, the cemetery just represents death. It is a sad reminder that things do not live forever. Cypress trees and my father. Although the noise of the train is something that is synonymous with Cypress Hills, something that isn’t is Whole Foods and yoga studios. Gentrification is something that is very real and alive in my hometown. By definition, gentrification means “the process of renovating and improving a house or district so that it conforms to middle-class taste.” To me, gentrification is losing the integrity and heart of a neighborhood. The graffiti that was once decorated vacant walls along Fulton Street is now being replaced with “for sale” signs for affordable