
I heard the poem “Push Out,” below, at Café Cultura , a free open mic forum focused toward youth in Denver. It hit me deep in my soul.
This poem by Bobby LeFebre speaks about changes in the neighborhood I grew up in. The poem’s topic is gentrification—the process of new residents with money (the “gentry”) moving into an older neighborhood, often displacing longtime residents. To me, this is not about “urban renewal”; it is truly about “pushing out” the history, people, and roots of urban neighborhoods.
I am a huge fan of Bobby, not only for his talent, but as one of the founding members of Café Cultura. The fact that they give the community a place to express their cultural heritage through this venue has been a major influence in my life in the past two years. My daughter and I make a huge commitment to be present at each event. We look forward to being in an environment where we feel proud and inspired by local talent who normally do not have a platform for their voices to be heard.
Push Out
I remember when my neighborhood was just called the Northside
Now they are calling it the “Highlands”.
Bilingual bookstores are now Boutiques
and the liquor store is carrying exotic wine.
They’re calling it progress….
Progress on the same Barrio streets
those people once warned their children to stay away from.
Now they flock to the Barrio armed with
developers plotting out a new place to live.
I see the transformation.
They say it is an evolution…….
as if what had existed there before was somehow subhuman, but my neighborhood had history.
The concrete beneath the feet of customers at
coffee shops has a story woven within the patterns of the cement…..
unfortunately its format is not compatible with any of the programs installed on their laptop computers so….
they’ll never get the message.
My neighborhood is changing before my eyes
Old Impalas and Monte Carlos are becoming Mercedes,
Parking spots have been invaded by SUV’s,
and I have to drive to get Mexican food.
They removed the tennis shoes from the power line
yesterday,
painted over a mural of La Virgen de Guadalupe,
and closed another Brown-owned business,
…..they replaced it with a “doggie daycare”.
I remember when the police patrolled the streets,
rollin like thugs two to three squad cars deep,
cuffing before questioning………
interesting…….
Now the Police interaction with the changing
demographic is smiles and handshakes.
Gentrification is as compassionate as a suicide bomber detonating in a preschool schoolyard.
My culture is suffering worse than it was before the push out,
meanwhile, the pushers, they discuss popular culture in an overpriced eatery that used to be a shop that sold herbal remedies for people too poor for doctors and prescriptions.
They have placed streetlamps along the same walkways where the darkness of night provided a shield for drug deals,
graffiti ridden walls have been painted over,
trashcans have been added to every corner,
and there is even a contraption on every light post that has baggies for dog shit.
All of this in the name of beautifying the Barrio.
All of this was asked for before,
but back then……
it was only dirty Mexicans asking;
if they wanted a better neighborhood then why didn’t they just move….

And now it has become so damn pretty that sometimes I have to remind myself of the pain, but some things are just impossible to change,
the blood has been washed away,
but the shape of the stain in my mind remains.
I know why the bricks on the corner building are chipped,
there was a drive-by there,
but prospective buyers don’t know that,
…..they just think it gives the building character.
The sound of profit drowns out the cries of the people who were there before
Gucci shoes erase the remnants of the chalk line that was there before
Before long there will be nowhere else to go.
It couldn’t get much worse
Now don’t get me wrong,
the barrio I knew was not an ideal place for a flower to grow.
There is nothing beautiful about drug deals and Brown on Brown crime.
Nothing luring bout’ streets filled with litter and disproportionate illiteracy rates.
Living paycheck to paycheck has never been fashionable
…………..there was beauty in the struggle though
I received the call yesterday
My landlord informed me he is “negotiating” a deal to sell the property in which my apartment sits.
A deal that would leave him with a profit and us packing…….
We have started to collect boxes.
© by Bobby LeFebre 2007. Used by permission; this poem may not be reprinted without permission from the author.
Check out this video for a glimpse of what a dynamic voice Bobby brings to our community:
Maria Sierra-Mendoza
consumed by children
talks too much
perpetual student
loves spoken word


Comments (2)
This is hard to think about. Maria, I respect the pain this poem gives you, and I know I can't fully understand it...but there's another side to this -- and we know it, of course, don't we?
When middle-class people went to the burbs to get away from the blood stains and the chalk marks, we had contempt for them and called it "white flight." Now they're moving back to town, and we say "gentrification" with the same disgust in our voices.
Maybe white middle-class people should just stay with their own kind. We don't want their white businesses on our block -- not in OUR back yard! And they're ALL into doggie daycare and fancy wine and coffee, aren't they? In fact, they all kinda look alike.
Meanwhile, I have a new friend who just moved with her husband from a suburban home in North Carolina into a tiny condo downtown, hoping to get involved in inner city ministry. They're a little stunned by the urban leap...and they're kinda eyeing the Highlands area.
Lori
Posted by Lori Ventola | October 3, 2007 5:41 AM
Posted on October 3, 2007 05:41
...I'm not having a very good morning so I thought I would go to geography of grace and find something to get my mind off of THIS SCHOOL OF MINE....and Bobby's poem deffinatly hit the spot. ;)...thinking about the NORTHSIDE always keeps my mind in the right place..but being in the library at school and looking through the windows and seeing the Broadlands kind of makes me laugh, because as my friends sit here and read this poem they have NO IDEA what it means ;)
Posted by angelina | October 3, 2007 8:07 AM
Posted on October 3, 2007 08:07