TRANSIT ETHNOGRAPHY — Philadelphia
September 17, 2014 | Weiyi (Dawn) Cai | Civic Media
A city has many faces.
They are not invisible but we hardly see them because we often choose not to.
Field Notes
No.52 Bus
14:43, 09/17/2014
Boarded the No. 52 bus.
The bus was empty because I boarded on the first stop. The driver was a mid-age African American male. He greeted me very warmly as I got on the bus.
I sat down near the back door; those seats are almost like my designated Septa seat. I like how I have the big window next to me and at the same time I can also observe people boarding the bus easily. The empty bus did not have the usual weird smell that Septa bus tend to have. Nor was the bus very dirty.
The bus started its journey down the 54th Street, passed through the neighborhoods of uniformed houses lined up one row after another. Even though the houses are sitting orderly next to each other, the ground was not that clean, there are trash all over. It was an afternoon of a weekday, the streets are pretty empty. Little shops on the first floors of apartment houses are not getting much business.
The first person got on was an African American lady; she sat at the very front of the bus, Immediately after she boarded the bus, she started a conversation with the driver. They were laughing loudly, and seemed familiar with each other. The bus kept driving through the neighborhood, I started to see people sitting on their front porch. The houses started to look a little older and more worn-out.
At 52nd and Jefferson Ave., 5 more people boarded the bus. 4 of them are students in their teenage, in suits and ties uniform, obviously just got out of school. They sat at the very back of the bus. Surprisingly, they did not talk loudly, you can barely hear their conversations and inside jokes. The other person was a middle aged man, he remained the front of the bus and started a private conversation with the driver.
At 52nd and Lancaster Ave. a woman and a man came onto the bus. The woman sat the front. The man who looked like a construction worker, with worn-out shirt and washed-out jeans. He walked towards the backdoor and started a conversation with a passenger. It didn’t take long for me to overhear that his intention was to ask for spare changes. The passenger, who was a black male in suit, did not respond. The man did not approach me even though I was the next closest passenger to him. He then proceeded to the front of the bus, and approached to a middle age woman, who gave him some coins. More people boarded the bus, a man in earphones, and a couple, a woman with her kid and two young women dressed in a fashion way; all African Americans. The man tried to approach the new passengers, no one really responded. The he came back to the back of the bus, started making an announcement saying that he just got out of the hospital today; he had seizures and was injured on the feet. He kept repeating how dire of a situation he was in and needed money. But nobody responded or handed him any change. I actually felt bad but really had no cash with me. He got off the bus as he was not getting any outcome here. I saw him approach a person walked by immediately after he got off the bus. I was also in fact surprised how the driver let him boarded the bus without paying.
Outside the window, we still in a African-American neighborhood, there were kids playing on the street, there were road sale and fruit venders along the street. This part of the neighborhood was more crowded and trafficky than the area before. There were churches in the neighborhood and multiple murals representing West Philly. The houses were old and multiple sites were under construction.
As more shops came up along the way, I arrived at 52nd and Market Street, where I got off the bus with majority passengers in the bus. However, I saw the bus did not get emptier for more people boarded the bus.
52nd & Market St.
Right after I got off the bus, I smell a very pungent and unpleasant smell. The streets were busy with students getting out of school, people started to head back from work, people chilling on the street and street vendors. I saw police standing outside the doors of the 52nd Street Station.
There were many murals in the area. On the pillars that hold the tracks up, there were murals of famous African American cultural figures like Omar Tyree, Kenny Gamble, Bill Cosby, etc. I felt people looking at me curiously for I had my camera and notebook with me, I somehow felt I did not fit in here and looked like a clumsy and stupid outsider. There were young boys existing the station and tried to pose for the photos and asked if I wanted a photo. And someone else came said “Ni Hao” (Hello in Chinese) to me.
This area was loud; a mixture of the loud trains, of people’s chatting on the street, with cars passing by, etc.
Passing the street and walking down the 52nd Street, I see many street venders having their shops along the street. They were selling bags, belts, clothes, phone cases, toys, books, etc. Just about everything. This scene was undeniably familiar to me because my high school was across the street from a mass assembly of market like this.
I started to see some diversity in the street. Still dominantly African Americans, but I saw middle easterners, Muslims, some white people. As well as Asian culture, such as Chinese restaurants. The venders on the streets were mostly Middle Easterners and Hispanics, men in their 30s and 40s.
The things they were selling along the way were not of high quality; some were knock-off designers bags, some were second handed clothes. The area had a weird atmosphere that was both chaotic and also had a unspoken order. There were an excessive amount of nail salons and beauty shops along the streets. The beauty shops all have giant posters of women sticked all over the doors and windows.
On the street, I saw a woman, who was probably the most skinny person I have ever seen. She walked slowly, dragging her feet as she walked. She was in skinny jeans, boots, and a overly big coat that did not fit her tiny figure. She was smoking and in the smoke she seemed like very confident and swagger. She was not looking at anyone else passing her.
Passing by a crowded McDonalds and more shops, stopped at Brown Sugar bakery, I headed back to the 52nd Street Station and boarded the blue line.
Market-Frankford Line
The train was a more diverse environment than the bus, but somehow people felt more distant on the train, maybe it was because the length of the train. More people ahd their heads glued to the phone screens. As the train heading the Center City direction, I started to see fashionable young white professionales boarding the bus. And young professionals tend to stand next to the doors if they cannot find seats.
The train got crowded starting from the 30th Station, and 15th Station was the most crowded I existed on 2nd Street, where I was greeted by a strong bleacher smell.
N3rd Street
It was amazing how drastically changed comparing the Old City to 52nd Street, where I was at 20 minutes ago. Dominately white people on the streets, with tour groups, bikers and dog walkers come and go. Dotted by vintage shops, fashion boutiques, art galleries, organic coffee shops, luxury furniture, etc. The N3rd St. looked like it walked straight out of Richard Florida’s planning of a city that attracts the Creative Class.
Even though the houses were old, the streets were clean. People passing were the people riding bikes with tattoos on their arms, you cannot find a T-shirt under 50 dollars on the street. The street was fairly empty and quiet but it smells like gentrification. It felt stronger the more north I went. It was an unsettling feeling even, you can still see the old face of the neighborhood while the new residents were coming in and changing the place.
I went in Indy Hall, a collaborative working space. The place was definitely intriguing, with artsy decorations and geeks doing their fascinating jobs on their Macs. A woman named Karina greeted me, explained the structure of Indy Hall to me, which was fascinating how all those creative people just came together as a community. From what she said, and what I saw, I can see that this is a space allows a lot freedom, a lot loose connections from which strong connections could be built. Everyone was passionate about what they do. No one seemed to care having someone walking around and taking pictures while they were working.
After Indy Hall, I headed north to the next and final destination, DevNuts, another collaborative working space, which turned out not as interesting and ope as Indy Hall. However, the walk was very interesting. The weird feeling I sated before of walking in gentrification got stronger the further I walked. There were a lot construction in the area. The area seemed somehow floating in the air, it was quiet and empty. But every now and then a group of young geeky professional or a runner with her dog, or a hipster riding the bike would pass by and make you realize it’s the Creative Class’s area here.
I don’t know if what I was feeling was accurate but I felt a stronger sense of belonging in that area than the 52nd area. They were both interesting to me, but here I did not feel obvious, or not fitting in, or people were looking at me with my camera.
Conclusions
While the whole city of Philadelphia is nothing unfamiliar to me nor the Septa intimidate me at all, it was a great journey I spent the whole afternoon on. I still cannot wrap my head around how drastically what you see can change within a twenty minute train ride, or a half hour bus ride. It seems like the city is divided in many little cubes with different colors and they do not merge with each other. A people living on the 52nd Street would not go work on N3rd Street and a Creative Class would not be hanging around 52nd Street. We love diversity but ultimately we still like to be with who are like them. It a sad truth. And the way for a city to let us do that is to be divided into neighborhoods and areas with different cultural dynamic.
It was powerful to witness gentrification and ideas that authors we read in class take shape in real life. It was the first time I realize, oh there’s something happening to this city and area. To some extend, everyone is living in a bubble, and we choose to be in the bubble and not be exposed to other cultures and movements in the same city.
It is also amazing how a city can embody so many different types of lifestyle and people from different demographic background. Just like when I elevated on the train, saw the houses and streets getting small and a distinct comparison between the neighborhood houses and downtown skyscrapers, I cannot help but wonder, what make us so different?
I cannot answer that question, but I guess stepping outside my bubble is the first step to find the answer.
