ELIJAH CRAIG
PSU BLACK STUDIES, WINTER 2024
FINAL GEOPOEM: LLOYD CENTER
Like a vibrant leaf
Trapped in an uncontrollable windstorm
I drifted aimlessly
Through parking lots I try my best
To dodge the many shoppers
Who are in a hurry to buy nothing
Mall doors burst open with the smell
Of combinations of overly priced colognes
Eager to be purchased
Poverty always pulled me towards
The free samples of the delectable
Soft pretzels with the thick
Gold dipping nacho cheese
I remember being just a young leaf
Floating toward Newberry’s Thrift Store
Right behind the mall with my grandmother
Before the dollar tree was even at thought
And alcoholism poisoned my community
Taking my Granny
Many times I was in need of a wind push
Fresh new Jordans finally released
Youth eager to be the first
To spend their last, sometimes
I would get stuck in that crowd
Lines at Footlocker seemed more
Important than being in class
My mother fresh out of prison
Only job available was mall janitor
Somehow those food court visits
Was better than Columbia River Visitation
Now looking at this half empty mall
On the verge of demolition
I wonder will my cherished memories be lost
Like a fragile leaf in the wind.
GEOPOEM: MLK & KILLINGSWORTH (FINAL)
Intersections with imperfections
Shared many lessons, somehow
As a child I adored it
Ashy ankles and swap meat fabrics
I was anxious to explore it
Racism was real, I tried to ignore it
Black people never considered equal
If we consume with purchase
We were accepted
If we spoke about ownership
We were neglected
The system was infected
And was poisoned by history
Why be so pissed at me, was
My own little mystery
Asian restaurants feed cat fish nuggets
While Geneva’s and Mid K sold
Hair weaves to Blacks with small budgets
Rugged and damaged we managed
Police took advantage in prison we landed
Ruff edges with no opportunity to
Be sanded
Still I continue to dream of Black owned bBocks
Not Blacks selling rocks
And Black owned stocks, with black owned homes
Black mothers gardening, in Black owned
Crops
But when I look at these Blocks
Or when I turn back my memory clock
I wonder will this ever stop
GEOPOEM: WONDERBREAD FACTORY
Poverty is not a novelty, seems
More like a casualty of war
Yet broken promises, and not feeling equal
Can be forgotten by
Just stepping into a store
Nostrils engulfed with sweet scents
Of fresh baked bread
Hostess snacks bought with food stamps
Bring unforgettable memories to my head
Black owned business erased
Black man indigents embraced
Cashier never shared my skin tone
No one worried how long I been gone
Police picked on me cause of my skin tone
Celebrated it like touchdowns
In inzones
Cold corners in need of warm hearts
Stolen culture, I duck the vultures
Looking for a fresh start,
Many empty years later, wanting
To relive my memories
I searched for a picture of Wonder Bread, somehow
I got a vision of an apartment complex
Instead, luckily my history
Is richer than my scenery
Whether it’s a Black face or Black place
We are constantly trying to be replaced
But we can gain so much love
If were instead
Finally fairly embraced
I wonder how that would taste
WONDERBREAD/APARTMENT COMPLEX
FINAL NARRATIVE #1
The Wonder Bread factory held so many joyful moments for a young Black male with no hope and not a pot to piss in.
Although at the time my family did the best they could through the harsh reality of poverty somehow traveling through this neighborhood the smell of the fresh baked bread was magical in a sense, and made one forget about all the negative things in the world. What also surprised me was how I could bring food stamps to purchase some of the delicious sweet treats offered. I believe the meaningful thing about this photo memory is that it’s gone. And now replaced with And now replaced with an apartment complex. Yet the memories are fresh and alive. It makes me think about the store and many other places in poverty that were for the community yet somehow always got pushed out, demolished, closed, or forgotten for things that can bring increased capital to White America.
I think these photos and conversations can get others to think about the future in terms of that choice to rebuild on something so worthy of staying not being the best somehow, instead keeping businesses that are for the community, and invest into them because they hold so much value. I also believe a lot of the problems today can be erased or fixed if we are comfortable enough to go to our history and take the things that did work and apply them into today’s society such as community unity, investing into our community instead of trying to capitalize off of them.
LLOYD CENTER
FINAL NARRATIVE #2
Lloyd Center holds so many memories from my youth. Good, bad, memories that can never be replaced. I remember at the frail age of ten me and my brother were placed into foster care when my mother was sent to prison.
The Lloyd Center became our safe place, our stomping ground, our backyard, our new form of exploration. The type of feelings I Feel when I look at this location is “freedom” to roam. “Acceptance” due to the comfortability I felt when I was in this society. Although I knew they were only interested in me for a purchase.
Sadly at times, I remember doing exactly the opposite. Stealing to survive. Things like clothes to keep warm and keep up, high price latest fashion, candy and food snacks to numb the hunger of my belly. Foster care was not a place me and my brother went to sleep full at night.
I remember priceless memories of my late grandmother. Billie Jean taking us through the mall and behind the mall to Newberry’s thrift store where ten dollars could fill up a whole bag full of food me and my brother could eat off for weeks. Once my mother was released from prison ironically her first job was inside the mall as a food court janitor. I remember making excuses to go to the mall to spend time with her. I remember behind each store. There were hallways we traveled that reminded me of a confusing maze as a child. This location is important to me cause through my incarceration I notice that a lot of my peers share hidden jewel memories from this location, and I often hear about it being closed down, remodeled, demolished, empty, and on the verge of something new. Doing so I sometimes feel my memories would be lost if that happened. What I would like to understand is that certain places have so much value and purpose beyond destruction. And I could go deeper, that statement can relate to our own self as well.
Someone else’s garbage has value to someone or something that we shouldn’t be so quick to throw something away or destroy something even when we think it’s useless and we must remember that thinking applies to how we feel about ourselves as well.
MLK & KILLINGSWORTH
The intersection from me felt like the backbone of the Portland Black Community, although all business and homes populated in these areas were not Black owned. This is where we migrated.
I think it's important for all folks to see this, the individuals who went home as well who created this economy to think of, and the people who didn't want blacks in their community.
For a long time, we made things/places and sounds nobody wanted to go all of the sudden to be popular. From the soul of music blasting out of the vehicles through the intersection. The flamboyant and bright outfits that was always complemented with Air Jordan’s shoes.
Maybe it was the delicious chicken sold in the many franchises littered on the blocks like Popeye’s or KFC or the Asian Owned Restaurant who had the delectable tasting catfish nuggets. All for the consumer.
I want them to see the possibilities of the things we could accomplish and create if we were the owner and not just the consumers.
When I look at this photo, I see fun times traveling with mothers, aunts, uncles, and cousins as a child. But I want to now imagine how it would feel if those places were Black owned and held the community together instead of using our culture for benefit. As a child and adult the most meaningful aspect of this photo is how every location was accepting of Black coming to their location yet uncomfortable with giving us the same opportunity to own.
Then you have the media who paint the negative picture yet fail to introduce all the closed doors and barriers that have been set up for us since slavery.
I want this photo to tell us that change is possible and it’s gotta start with every color getting equal chance. Society already copies and follows everything we do already. Just imagine what could be created if we weren't all equal and not considered lesser than. It also can match the feelings of other people caring, not with just these words but these actions as well.
I’m tired of people of other races saying they are for us yet vote and agree on the same laws that keep us at the bottom and stuck in intersections of MLK & Killingsworth, poverty. | EC
Excellent!!!!