Midnight Gardening & Creating Space

PART ONE

For a mama with a young baby, it can be hard to find a good opportunity to work out in the garden, seeing as being with Baby makes it impossible to spend much time, if any, out in the sun on hot days.  Therefore, much of the time left to care for the garden is when Mama gets a break from caring for Baby.  That's on a few occasions: during naptime, when people visit who want to spend time with Rosemary, and when Rosemary goes to bed for the night.  Hence, what I like to call "midnight gardening."  With monitor nearby, I am able to get much of the work done that I wouldn't otherwise, and with the sun typically set, it's much cooler out also.  The hours typically run from 9:30 pm to what was 12:30 am the other night.  In our neighborhood, this can be particularly interesting.

I'm sure my mother wouldn't want to read this post, because, frankly, this is just the stuff that makes her worry.  I am a white woman in a black neighborhood.  Already sticking out quite a bit just by setting up a big garden, building a greenhouse off the house, hanging out with the kids on our street, coming home with carloads of trash to reuse, painting our house yellow with blue shutters, etc, being white also makes us stick out, too.  But that hasn't meant that we've found people to be unfriendly or antagonistic by any means.  To the contrary, we know pretty much everyone on our street by name, and people are quite friendly and warm.  One neighbor to Daniel said "I know you all are different," though it seemed to have been said in an accepting way- not a move-out-of-my-neighborhood-way.  Also, having opened up the cut-through point on our street, by helping to break down the broken fence, and by creating this green space that is walked through consistently throughout the day, we've made a lot of friends.  That being said, there is a lot of fear that exists about "The Other."  Look specifically at Cleveland, and one sees, quite starkly, a very segregated city with very little cross-over.  Some areas have some integration, but on the East side of Cleveland, there are clear borders of black and white, rich and poor, etc etc.  Buckeye is a neighborhood that has got somewhat of a notorious reputation, especially south of Buckeye, which is where we live.  One man, a black man who lives in East Cleveland, actually- a neighborhood I've heard referred to as "The Wild West" because things have gotten so dilapidated, abandoned, and wild - when he heard that I lived in Buckeye, he said to me, very shocked- "you live in Gangsterville?!"  I just laughed and said, "what?  Don't I look like a gangster?"  It was surprising to me, that even this man seemed to express some fear or hesitation about being in this neighborhood.  And again, our first housemate, a former felon who lived with us after 17 years in federal prison, was also hesitant to move into our house with us, because of our neighborhood, saying "those guys are bad over there."  And yet, this has not felt like the situation whatsoever here.

That being said, I, as a younger white woman, don't go out by myself at night.  I don't walk around at night much at all, actually.  The scene changes enough at night on Buckeye, that I'm not the only one who doesn't walk around much at night.  However, I have started gardening late at night.  This is the time I have available, I need to make it work.  At night, when I garden- and sometimes in the early evening, too, I feel the need to look over my shoulder frequently- even though my dog, Nuva, is typically nearby keeping watch.  It's a strange experience to be doing something that is relaxing to me, like gardening, and yet be in a stressful environment where I don't feel I can completely put my guard down.

So, it was interesting when a big gang of guys, shirtless and in white tees, about 20 young men, walked through the garden around midnight.   I know a few of the guys, especially two of them, by name.  The most out-spoken, and seems to be more of a leader of the group, "Jo-Jo" often asks how the baby is, where's my husband, etc.  He's got a friend that introduced himself to Danny as "Shoot 'em," and when I see the mob of a group, I'm pretty sure they're included in the bunch.  

I was squatted, weeding in the center of the garden, under the big tree, with my back to the other abandoned lot with the abandoned house on it.  As the group rounds the bend in front of our house, Nuva gets up sleepily (it was past her bedtime) to stand at attention.  I stand up, too.  Mostly just to give my knees a break, but there is also a part of me, in the split second decision of whether to see if I can stay hidden amongst the garden beds, or stand and be seen- I chose the latter.  I think both Nuva & I's rising scares some of the guys.  One steps back- "woaah."  And another says "nah, it's cool, that's my nigga."  I take that as a compliment, even though I'm not sure if he's referring to Nuva or me, I know it means that I'm nothing to be afraid of.  That's when I realize the irony of the moment.  This scene, where I could potentially be in an incredibly vulnerable position- one female out late in a pretty vacant lot, when a big gang of guys walks through... I do my best to not play out the potential situations in my head- despite always keeping aware  to be mindful and present of the possibilities.  So, in spite of this vulnerability and fear I feel, at first glance, these men are afraid of me, and then disarmed by my strange behavior of gardening so late.  Jo-Jo says to me "y'all garden all night long!"  (or did he say "y'all garden all day long").  Either way, the fear is diffused for the moment, as it's clear there's no ill-intention directed towards me, and if anything, there's some moderate protection for me as a gardener.  And how is it that these men could feel fear as they saw me spring up from the garden, when shouldn't it be me who should be the more fearful one?  It feels like an important moment of facing fears, of disarmament, of creating a new paradigm.  

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PART TWO

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I went inside not too much later after that.  In reflection, looking at the garden from the upstairs, I realized the garden space is bigger than me and bigger than anything we are doing in it.  It is the creation of space.  A safe space is my hope.

I am haunted by a story I heard from Buckeye's history.  It was during the time when this neighborhood was transitioning from "Old Hungary," named for its primary residents of Hungarian (and Czech) people to the present majority Black population.  I think it was in the 80's when the transition was happening.  Maybe the 90's?  Well, one story was of an old Hungarian woman who was beat to death by some black men in her garden.  It's a horrible story, and I don't know where the truth lies with it, but I do know at the time when things were transitioning from Hungarian to Black- there was a lot of conflict, antagonism, and turmoil.  The Cleveland history books seem interested in leaving this period of history out of the records (see the Cleveland's history of Buckeye book for an example of this).  This is much like Cleveland's history in general that hasn't addressed any conflicts that have arisen due to racism, injustice and violence (hence, much of the city's segregation & fear of other neighborhoods).  So, what is it with this garden space that seems to make it different?

For one thing, this garden is not just my garden.  With there being a major pedestrian traffic route right through the garden, the folks on this street interact with this space on a daily basis.  So, even if at times, there may be some fear from folks on this street as to whether its okay or not to pass through (there are a few people who tend to ask me for permission to pass through before they do), everyone must encounter this different form of life, this different paradigm of a transformed vacant lot into this garden of possibilities- even if they're a bit scared to, and aren't sure if they're welcome.  Likewise, I, and Daniel, Noah and any other people who come to our house & help in the garden, therefore, must interact with the folks on this street- whether or not we are afraid or not.  This garden is the creation of a space where different cultures can interact- even if they are afraid of each other.  There are other feelings connected, too, not just fear- maybe anger, resentment, uncertainty, assumptions.  And of course, also, excitement, curiosity, wonder, joy, hope, attraction.  And this garden creates a very interesting space to explore what happens when different people meet.  Perhaps more than growing enough food for our family or maybe even our street to eat, this is what is important: the space it creates where everyone is welcome, even if there's no sign printed declaring that.  The same way that the pumpkins, basil, boc choy, and sunflowers are treated with the same love, so must be the people.  

I felt a true testament to this last night, when I happened to be observing the garden from the upstairs window, when I noticed a young man hanging out in the garden.  He was looking at his cell phone, and seemed to be anxiously, maybe even kind of nervously, waiting to meet up with someone, looking over his shoulder like I do sometimes.  It was the moment and the way that his shoulders seemed to relax when he sat down, leaning on the cooler transformed into a raised bed for tomatoes, that I realized he felt more comfortable to wait in the garden, by the flowers and vegetables, than to wait in the street under the street lights.  The garden was a safe space for him.

Serendipitously, the night before, while observing the garden from the stairwell window, I realized that a bench was needed in center of the garden, right by that tomato bed where that man leaned the following night.  He had envisioned that need, just as I did.  The next day, I was sure to move a bench sitting by the abandoned house, right in that spot by the pathway, by the tomato bed.  Now, if someone needs a moment and space, they are welcome to sit.  []