Living in New York is different as an adult.
Before moving back, I had a 13-year-old frame of reference of city life — rollerblading in the park, sitting on someone’s stoop on hot days, going to Manhattan in herds.
Most have a hard time believing I spent part of my childhood in the Bronx. There’s a certain accent I apparently am supposed to have, a certain mannerism I lack. But if you looked hard enough, you’d see flashes of the Bronx. The chicken neck in fits of annoyance, the love of ’90s R&B and hip-hop and, at the time, only ’90s R&B and hip-hop, a wariness of unsolicited acts of kindness. (more…)