first impressions
Where even to begin?
These past few days have been an amalgam of thrill, fright, encouragement, overwhelm and awe. Most of all, though, I would describe my state of mind in this new place as excited (so, so excited).
Last Friday, my sweet family helped me pack up my life in Montréal - after days and days of precious memories and goodbyes with loved ones, bottled up and stored in a sacred place in my heart - and we drove 6 hours southward to New York City. Words can't express how profoundly thankful I was for the miles they drove, the errands they ran, the furniture they moved, the prayers they whispered over that weekend - leaving me with stocked cupboards, a cozy room, misty eyes, and the fullest heart. Watching them walk away and into the elevator was heartbreaking - a scene not to dwell upon too much - but I found solace in knowing they were proud of me and my decision to do this internship, that they would be but a phone call away, and that I would see them soon.
My apartment, shared with two (lovely, lovely) young women, is located in the Bronx, which is the northernmost borough of New York City. The neighborhood, called University Heights, is vibrant and spirited with its ongoing music and markets, and both African American and Latina flair (your girl is learning alllll about hip hop and bodega culture!). I was so pleased to realize the apartment is right by Fordham University, and a walk away from the New York Botanical Gardens and the Bronx Zoo. On our first night here, my family and I tried out Zero Otto Nove pizza on the famed Arthur's Street (a must in the Bronx!) - and I have to say that the Cirilo pie, with butternut squash puree, cream of truffle, mushrooms and fresh mozzarella... was to die for.
Despite its buoyancy, beautiful parks, good restaurants, and elegant brick buildings, I think it would be fair to say the neighborhood is, in places, scruffy and marked by much poverty. It is so utterly different from the suburban landscape I am used to.
For starters, I should emphasize that my housing in Gramercy (a neighborhood in Manhattan on the Lower East Side) fell through a couple months before my internship and it was a miracle I found this spot - my new home. My apartment is large - complete with high ceilings and dark floors and light painting itself on the walls. And, for those who will comprehend my excitement: it has a brick wall! Eek!
For better or for worse, the apartment epitomizes the process of gentrification (read more about this here) - wherein new developers renovated the space beautifully and thus increased the rent compared to the rest of the area yet kept it low by Manhattan standards. Therefore, though the apartment offers a combination of rent and space which is incomparable to that of the average New York housing, University Heights is by and large still viewed as a tattered neighborhood. I feel safe, no doubt, but certainly see the cultural, social and economic contrast as I make my way to Midtown every day for work. Manhattan and University Heights, in many ways, seem like two opposite worlds.
This, however, is without a doubt in the process of changing. I recognize that my being here essentially contributes to the rezoning projects and the process whereby many of University Heights' current residents will eventually be priced out of the Bronx in the near future. To 'circumvent' this, I will try to be intentional about investing in the community by doing my errands here, getting to know local teenagers at my roommate's youth center (which, quite conveniently, is largely ran out of the apartment!) and was just researching gyms in the area.
I digress.
When we first drove up to the apartment building, I had to hold in tears. My heart, you could say, had sunk. I was so overwhelmed, was hit with a wave of culture shock, was grieving the dream of an idyllic Manhattan experience, and was immediately disappointed in myself for not being more open-minded and grateful.
But I must say - God has been stretching me already (it didn't take too long! and I can't even fathom how much more is to learn!), inviting me to let my roots run deep in this community and approach it as Kingdom work. In just the past week of being here, I have had to begin challenging my presumptions and prejudice, and have heard God's soft and gentle voice reminding me to accept and love otherness. I do believe that being in University Heights will not only be an eye-opening experience for me in terms of learning about community development (and Spanish mini-marts!) but also an opportunity to be missional in an urban setting. This is such a gift. It is something I always spoke about being passionate about - but now I get to practice it.
This all makes me think of the words of Shane Claiborne (an author I do not know well but who consistenly inspires me when I take time to read about) in his book The Irresistible Revolution:
I so often present myself as someone who cares about the marginalized; who wants to dedicate my life to their service as did Christ; who wants to make ethical life choices so that socioeconomic gaps lessen; who considers it to be inconceivable for people (especially Christians) to vote for political leaders who do not assist or benefit the materially poor ... yet the thought of living with those at the margins of society never really crossed my mind. Well, it did, but I brushed it off and said it wasn't my thing. Ha. I was perfectly content volunteering in such settings and driving home to my comfortable suburban home. Of course, there is nothing wrong with living in a quaint suburb if done wisely and in submission to God (this is a good time to plug in a favorite book of 2019 so far). But, without really consciously choosing it, I have found myself in a different scenario: God has trailed a new and beautiful path that involves less maintenance and more chaos, less harmony and more multiplicity, less comfort and more leaning on Him. For the next six months, I get to call Bronx residents - many of whom live below the federal poverty level, come from broken family situations, and are familiar with such realities as teen pregnancy, addiction, incarceration, and unemployment - both my neighbors and my friends.
Slowly, I am viewing this as more than a circumstance - this is a tremendous opportunity. And I am resolved to be faithful in it. I am resolved to see each of them (oh, I am getting teary eyed just writing this as their faces come to mind!) as image bearers of God.
Again and again, I have had to repeat to myself that God calls His people to hard places, but He is unfailingly ahead of them as they journey there. He goes before me. This truth has been so sweet to me. This move, I realize, will reveal dark places in my heart that contain judgment and bias against what I am not used to. I admit, I had always taken pride in my ability to embrace different types of environments and people. Moving to a place where I often feel like the only thing that is "different" is me has been, to say the least, overwhelming. One of my two roommates has been a youth worker in the Bronx for the past few years, and she hinted that the kids in the area were not used to seeing blonde and blue-eyed girls ("gringas") walking around the area. But this has been an unexpectedly breathtaking invitation to lean into Christ and His acceptance and hospitality.
Oh, New York, my impression is that we'll do just fine.
These past few days have been an amalgam of thrill, fright, encouragement, overwhelm and awe. Most of all, though, I would describe my state of mind in this new place as excited (so, so excited).
Last Friday, my sweet family helped me pack up my life in Montréal - after days and days of precious memories and goodbyes with loved ones, bottled up and stored in a sacred place in my heart - and we drove 6 hours southward to New York City. Words can't express how profoundly thankful I was for the miles they drove, the errands they ran, the furniture they moved, the prayers they whispered over that weekend - leaving me with stocked cupboards, a cozy room, misty eyes, and the fullest heart. Watching them walk away and into the elevator was heartbreaking - a scene not to dwell upon too much - but I found solace in knowing they were proud of me and my decision to do this internship, that they would be but a phone call away, and that I would see them soon.
My apartment, shared with two (lovely, lovely) young women, is located in the Bronx, which is the northernmost borough of New York City. The neighborhood, called University Heights, is vibrant and spirited with its ongoing music and markets, and both African American and Latina flair (your girl is learning alllll about hip hop and bodega culture!). I was so pleased to realize the apartment is right by Fordham University, and a walk away from the New York Botanical Gardens and the Bronx Zoo. On our first night here, my family and I tried out Zero Otto Nove pizza on the famed Arthur's Street (a must in the Bronx!) - and I have to say that the Cirilo pie, with butternut squash puree, cream of truffle, mushrooms and fresh mozzarella... was to die for.
For starters, I should emphasize that my housing in Gramercy (a neighborhood in Manhattan on the Lower East Side) fell through a couple months before my internship and it was a miracle I found this spot - my new home. My apartment is large - complete with high ceilings and dark floors and light painting itself on the walls. And, for those who will comprehend my excitement: it has a brick wall! Eek!
For better or for worse, the apartment epitomizes the process of gentrification (read more about this here) - wherein new developers renovated the space beautifully and thus increased the rent compared to the rest of the area yet kept it low by Manhattan standards. Therefore, though the apartment offers a combination of rent and space which is incomparable to that of the average New York housing, University Heights is by and large still viewed as a tattered neighborhood. I feel safe, no doubt, but certainly see the cultural, social and economic contrast as I make my way to Midtown every day for work. Manhattan and University Heights, in many ways, seem like two opposite worlds.
This, however, is without a doubt in the process of changing. I recognize that my being here essentially contributes to the rezoning projects and the process whereby many of University Heights' current residents will eventually be priced out of the Bronx in the near future. To 'circumvent' this, I will try to be intentional about investing in the community by doing my errands here, getting to know local teenagers at my roommate's youth center (which, quite conveniently, is largely ran out of the apartment!) and was just researching gyms in the area.
I digress.
When we first drove up to the apartment building, I had to hold in tears. My heart, you could say, had sunk. I was so overwhelmed, was hit with a wave of culture shock, was grieving the dream of an idyllic Manhattan experience, and was immediately disappointed in myself for not being more open-minded and grateful.
But I must say - God has been stretching me already (it didn't take too long! and I can't even fathom how much more is to learn!), inviting me to let my roots run deep in this community and approach it as Kingdom work. In just the past week of being here, I have had to begin challenging my presumptions and prejudice, and have heard God's soft and gentle voice reminding me to accept and love otherness. I do believe that being in University Heights will not only be an eye-opening experience for me in terms of learning about community development (and Spanish mini-marts!) but also an opportunity to be missional in an urban setting. This is such a gift. It is something I always spoke about being passionate about - but now I get to practice it.
This all makes me think of the words of Shane Claiborne (an author I do not know well but who consistenly inspires me when I take time to read about) in his book The Irresistible Revolution:
I had come to see that the great tragedy in the church is not that rich Christians do not care about the poor but that rich Christians do not know the poor...I truly believe that when the rich meet the poor, riches will have no meaning. And when the rich meet the poor, we will see poverty come to an end.
[my addendum: I think it is fair to say that the Global North's middle-class evangelicals (hiiiii) would fall into this 'rich Christian' category]
Slowly, I am viewing this as more than a circumstance - this is a tremendous opportunity. And I am resolved to be faithful in it. I am resolved to see each of them (oh, I am getting teary eyed just writing this as their faces come to mind!) as image bearers of God.
Again and again, I have had to repeat to myself that God calls His people to hard places, but He is unfailingly ahead of them as they journey there. He goes before me. This truth has been so sweet to me. This move, I realize, will reveal dark places in my heart that contain judgment and bias against what I am not used to. I admit, I had always taken pride in my ability to embrace different types of environments and people. Moving to a place where I often feel like the only thing that is "different" is me has been, to say the least, overwhelming. One of my two roommates has been a youth worker in the Bronx for the past few years, and she hinted that the kids in the area were not used to seeing blonde and blue-eyed girls ("gringas") walking around the area. But this has been an unexpectedly breathtaking invitation to lean into Christ and His acceptance and hospitality.
I am learning, day by day -bird by bird - to make a home away from home. I find comfort in such things as pictures and memorabilia which bring me back to places I know; slow mornings where the kettle boils for the French press and I read Scripture in the dim kitchen of the apartment; music playing and fiction devoured on my way to Manhattan; a handful of magenta roses to dry out into an everlasting bouquet; books on the windowsill (books everywhere); a lavender candle flickering (the smell, reminding me of my mama); a playlist made by Paul with New York-themed songs (a reminder that my guy knows the way to my heart!); jotting down recipes that remind me of home; frequent phone calls and messages from those and to those I love.
When I parted ways with my sweet family, as we regrouped in my room and prayed together and bid tearful goodbyes, they offered me a box in which dozens and dozens of letters were placed: all from different friends and family members who had penned notes – love letters, really – to commission me off on this journey. I felt so loved and cared for. They admitted they had not found the time to reach out to everyone they had hoped – but so many others took time to share words of love and spend time with me before I left on their own accord, in the weeks preceding my move. These gestures and moments, however big or small, are like an invisible string for me to hold onto, connecting me to all of them.
Every day, I walk out of the silence of my building into the hustle and bustle of the city, having but a simple commute straight to Grand Central and a five-minute walk to the UN-Women Headquarters. The city makes me feel alive. I am taking it all in – the blur of yellow taxis, the canyons of brick and glass and marble, the humanity everywhere I look. It’s thrilling and new and everything I dreamed of yet so much more.
Work has been a lived prayer. My team at UN-Women's Fund for Gender Equality is incredible: they were so welcoming (complete with a pancake welcome party on my first day!)- and have so intentionally made me feel like a part of a family (no better word describes their dynamic). These are people who so genuinely care about women's empowerment and freedom, and their passion positively inspires me. Their minds burst at the seams with skill and creativity and goodwill. I am learning much about the UN system, in awe of the global network of people who rally to defend women's rights and who champion gender equality daily. My responsibilities are stimulating and are inviting me to tap into my giftings whilst exploring new horizons. As a communications and knowledge management intern, a core component of my work involves reflecting on the best way to explain development and gender equality to people. Again and again, I have witnessed the power of words - in bringing people together, building bridges, fostering change, allowing progress- and am thus deeply interested in the intersection of international development and both communications and storytelling. This internship is about just that. Without going into too much detail about the project, I can say that this past week involved the compilation of stories - many, many stories- of lives transformed through effective development programming and social innovation. I truly cannot wait to see how it all pans out.
I was able to meet interns from all over the world who share the same heartbeat for women's empowerment as I do. Together, we were able to meet with the executive director - an incredible yet approachable woman named Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka (read about her, here) whose wisdom and enthusiasm and commitment to the cause of women left us all without words. We all agreed, afterward, that our role as interns- whoever small or, at times, seemingly menial- is an intrinsic part of an organism (mechanism? movement?) which is of utmost importance. So much work is to be done - and it is such an honor to be able to be a part of it, in some capacity.
That same evening, I went to a forum on journalism where I brushed shoulders with none other than the Secretary-General of the United Nations, António Guterres. It was unbelievable! I do want to say, however, that I recognize wholeheartedly that the work of the United Nations far surpasses the executives at the higher level. If anything, we ought to celebrate the thousands of workers - both in lower levels of the United Nations and in civil society or grassroots operations -who work tirelessly and anonymously day after day to help create a world where peace and security are maintained, multilateral relations and cooperation are achieved and economic, social, cultural, political and humanitarian flourishing is brought about.
Thus far I have been able to explore a few spots in New York already, slowly checking off some places on my "to see" list (which, of course, is only getting longer and longer). Before my family left, we were able to dip into Queens for the first time - for Venezuelan plantain sandwiches at Patacon Pisao in Elmhurst, and a short excursion to Astoria. We walked the High Line and my sister, an aspiring urban planner, was positively enchanted (as we all were) by such an ingenious and sustainable use and reinvention of city space. We walked and walked and strolled through Chelsea market, where we gulped down milkshakes because that's just what you do when goodbyes are imminent.
On my first day of work, before arriving at the office, I took some time to sip an iced coffee at Blue Bottle Coffee to think, read, observe, pray. A couple days later, I walked through the Flatiron district in a thunderstorm and decided taxis under rainfall are particularly romantic. During breaks, I walk with colleagues around our area- perhaps for a cup of joe at Ground Central, but usually for a chat and rest in the secret gardens of Tudor City Place. After work one day, I took a stroll around Gramercy - wondering what it would be like to have an apartment by Gramercy Park (one of two private parks in the city, where only residents surrounding its grounds have access to the magic beyond its fence).
My office is but a couple blocks away from New York's Public library (with its stunning grand staircases and infinite intricate moldings... and don't even get me started on all the manuscripts and collections it houses!) and Bryant Park (where flowers bloomed, people enjoyed meals al fresco, Edith Piaf played on the twirling carrousel). On a lunch break, I was able to visit both sites- a brief wander around the library (will go back) and a solo picnic at the edge of the park lawn, where much people-watching and book-reading took place.
My office is but a couple blocks away from New York's Public library (with its stunning grand staircases and infinite intricate moldings... and don't even get me started on all the manuscripts and collections it houses!) and Bryant Park (where flowers bloomed, people enjoyed meals al fresco, Edith Piaf played on the twirling carrousel). On a lunch break, I was able to visit both sites- a brief wander around the library (will go back) and a solo picnic at the edge of the park lawn, where much people-watching and book-reading took place.
As I have far exceeded the appropriate length of a blogpost, I suppose I will keep thoughts on my weekend for a future time. Needless to say, it was also pure magic.
All in all, despite periodic moments of overwhelm and homesickness, I am unable to wipe the smile off my face – thinking over and over that I am so grateful, so lucky to be here. As I get ready for work in the mornings, commute to work, walk the streets with Armstrong and Fritzgerald and Sinatra singing through my headphones, learn about development and communications, chat with my roommates, rest in my very first place away from home... I often find myself pausing and praying thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the God from whom all blessings flow. He has been so good to me in this past week - always reminding me in His soft, gentle voice to abide in Him, trust wholeheartedly and be faithful to Him in this new venture.
I am incredibly excited for the next six months, and wonder what will have changed by the end of them (will I have a better idea of what type of career I hope for? will I have a community in New York? will I be leaving kicking and screaming?). But that all seems so far off - and I am entirely comfortable with it all writing itself very, very slowly... For now, I simply want to savor it all.
Oh, New York, my impression is that we'll do just fine.
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