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“The food here ain’t even real no more,” said a woman named Kiki, who was returning with breakfast from a nearby deli. “Hey, y’all, this man is from the newspaper!” she called to some people coming out the door. Kiki had many long braids and an antic manner. People gathered around, and at each new complaint—playground is closed too much, kids have nothing to do, out here the travel is so long you have to get up at five in the morning to get your kids to school, kids see too much when they live in a single room with their parents, kids get sick more here, the eight-dollar-an-hour wage for in-house work will never get you out of here—Kiki whooped in affirmation. “Bloomberg put us in a corner and said fuck us!” she whooped. Pointing at the long-term lot across the highway, she said, “Those are parked cars, and we are parked people!” She let out a wild laugh. |
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