Growing up on the Northside of Sedalia, Missouri in the 1980s, my world was defined by a set of railroad tracks. These weren't just any tracks - they were the stark, immovable line of segregation that kept black residents, like myself, confined to the Northside.
I called the Anthony Buckner Projects on Buckner Court home - or as we knew it, "Killer Court." This name wasn't just teenage bravado; it reflected the harsh realities of our daily lives.
Crossing the Tracks: A Journey of Necessity and Danger
The Northside was a food desert. We had no grocery stores, no amenities - nothing. To get basic necessities, we had to cross those tracks into the east side - the "white" area. But crossing wasn't just a trip to the store. It was a gauntlet.
Every journey to buy food meant potentially fighting our way there and back. The racial tension was palpable, a constant undercurrent of hostility that could erupt at any moment. We weren't welcome, and we were reminded of it at every turn.
The Crack Epidemic: When Everything Changed
The 1990s brought a shift, but not for the better. Crack cocaine hit our community like a tidal wave, washing away what little stability we had. Suddenly, the tension wasn't just with the white community across the tracks - it was among ourselves.
Black-on-black crime skyrocketed. Gangs proliferated. The community I knew, for all its faults, began to tear itself apart from the inside.
A Community in Flux
As crack took hold, I witnessed a bizarre reversal. White people, once so intent on keeping us out of their neighborhoods, began venturing into the Northside more frequently. But they weren't coming to build bridges or offer help. They were coming for drugs.
Meanwhile, our housing market collapsed. Houses were torn down and not replaced. The physical fabric of our community was literally crumbling around us, mirroring the social decay brought on by addiction and violence.
Reflections on a Changing Neighborhood
Looking back, I see a community that underwent seismic shifts in just a few short years. From a place defined by external racial tensions to one consumed by internal strife, the Northside of my youth is almost unrecognizable now.
The story of Northside Sedalia is more than just a tale of one neighborhood. It's a microcosm of urban decay, racial segregation, and the devastating impact of the crack epidemic on black communities across America.
As I work to make a difference today, I carry these memories with me. They fuel my determination to create change, to build communities where railroad tracks don't divide us, where grocery runs don't require combat training, and where the cycle of addiction and violence can finally be broken.
The Northside taught me hard lessons, but it also gave me the strength and perspective to fight for a better future. It's a fight I continue to this day, for my old neighborhood and for communities like it across the country.
Ķardell
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