A fellow queer community member told me this summer that friends of hers bought the house on my block in Brooklyn. Yes, they were white, twenty and thirty-something queers, female bodied, professional. They were also a collective of 8 women who decided to purchase a place together. Friends on a deed – a breeding ground for disaster!
I was heart-broken, since I have lived in East Flatbush my entire life and couldn’t afford to live here. What to do, now that the housing market has pushed me north (or out of state) and let in comrades to reap the benefits of what my grandparents and parents have sowed?
My mom moved out of Brooklyn in 2014. My dad is selling his Bedstuy building after 20 years of expense, hopefully walking away with a profit. My grandparents who owned retired in Florida, while my grandparents who didn’t own never made it out of the projects.
And now I’ve purchased a house – but not in my hometown, and reconciling.
You can imagine my inner evil rise when I heard from the fellow community member recently that the collective owners have turned on each other. Serves them right! – I thought (initially).
Now I see that there is so much madness involved in being on the other end of the renter/landlord spectrum. Renting?!?!?!?! Aaack!.
More on that soon!