Queens, NY was first settled by the Dutch in the year of 1635.  Over 250 years later, it became a New York City borough in 1898.  Jamaica, Queens, my neighborhood of focus, was established in 1656, following the settlement of Newton (which later became Elmhurst) in 1642, Far Rockaway in 1644, and Flushing in 1645.  Jamaica remains one of the many commercial centers in Queens although there have been changes in demographics.

According to the 2010 Population Census for zip code 11432, Jamaica had a population of approximately 60, 809 people.  That is a 6.06% increase from a population of 57,045 in 2000.  Walking around the neighborhood, one would assume that Jamaica is a predominantly African American neighborhood.  However, according to the same 2010 Census, 12,203 people identified as being African American while 21,601 identified as being Asian, majority of them identifying themselves as Asian Indian.  In an article about Jamaica’s change in African-American predominance, it was stated that currently “blacks are 20 percent of the residents… [And] Asians, many from Bangladesh, Pakistan, India and China, now make up a whopping 30 percent of the population.”  Between 2000 and 2010, the African American population decreased by 8.90% while the Asian population increased by 54.86%.

When I think of Jamaica, Queens, immediately what comes to mind is Jamaica Avenue, or what I think most of Queens’s residents near Jamaica refer to as “the Ave”.  It has been a very active area in Jamaica, Queens for as long as I can remember.  However, I find that the types of people that now frequent Jamaica Avenue are a little different from those that did maybe 5-10 years ago.  I feel like the Ave is more for the younger and older folks who either have less money than others or just don’t want to spend a lot on clothing and other wanted items while the middle aged people are less likely to shop there.  I find that people my age tend to flock to malls, such as Green Acres in Valley Stream, or head over to Manhattan to do their shopping in Midtown or SoHo, for instance.  Don’t get me wrong, though.  The Ave is a great place to find bargain items and even though there is a stigma that cheaper priced clothing is cheap in quality, I have found some staple items that have held up through the years and didn’t cost me no more than $20.

I decided to take a walk down Jamaica Avenue and actually managed to talk to three people who basically confirmed my theory about who shops on the Ave. One person I spoke to was a girl named Tiffany Williams.  She’s 15 years old and goes to Hillcrest High School right nearby on Hillside Avenue.  I was in one of the many beauty supply stores on the Ave when I ran into her and her friends.  She told me that just about every day after school she and her friends walk down the Ave until it’s time for them to go home.  Sometimes they buy things, sometimes they just go to look at clothes or get food at Wendy’s, McDonald’s, or Burger King.

Nonetheless, you’ll always find some young people like them shopping or walking up and down the Ave, and personally I avoid the times of day when they are plentiful.  The young kids are usually a rowdy bunch, and on numerous occasions, although not so frequently now, there have been fights in the street among them.

I also got to speak with an older woman named Sheryl Watson who was stopping by the flea market to look around for some good bargains.  Sheryl is 56 years old and works as a home health aide for a 92-year-old woman.  While we were talking, she let me know that she usually comes to the Ave anytime between 10am and 2pm because she knows “that’s when the kids are away, and I can shop in peace.”  I can definitely see her point.  It’s kind of safe to say that the older folks plan their trips around the times when the younger kids who frequent the Ave are in school.

The third woman I spoke to was on her way to the subway.  Her name is Taylor Morgan.  She is 21 years old and is currently a junior majoring in accounting at York College right nearby the Jamaica Center train station.  We only spoke for maybe three minutes, but I did find out that, like me, she only shops on the Ave when she’s in desperate need of something or she left some shopping until the last minute.  Other than that, “you can catch me somewhere in the city shopping,” she said.  I hope I’m not speaking incorrectly for her when I say that the clothing you find on the Ave is slightly limited and everything, at least to me, looks almost exactly the same from store to store.

Regardless of how limited the choices may or may not be, you will always find people shopping.  That’s always a given, and that’s the very reason I like the Ave.  To me, it’s like the part of Queens that never sleeps (well until 8:00 pm or so when all of the stores close).  And shopping isn’t all that can be done there.  There’s a major movie theater, Jamaica Multiplex Cinemas, where tickets are usually around $12.00 on a regular day for adults but only around $7.00 on Tuesdays.  However, here is a disclaimer before you may decide you want to go see a movie on a Tuesday at the Multiplex: it is almost guaranteed to be crowded and you might be able to be money and win that you won’t get to sit through a movie in peace and quiet, as there will be very active and emotionally invested movie watchers who react to and comment on just about everything going on in the film.

Besides watching movies and shopping, there are also places to grab a bite to eat, although I must say the choices are a bit disappointing.  Starting from the intersection of Jamaica Avenue and Parsons Boulevard working eastward, there are a slew of fast food restaurants that begin with Wendy’s.  Directly across the street is McDonald’s, and along Parsons Blvd but still near Jamaica Avenue are Subway, Popeye’s, Dunkin Donuts, and Golden Krust.  A block or so down the Ave is Burger King and then Taco Bell.  A ways down is a pizza place and then a really good Jamaican food spot called Jamaican Flavors on the Colosseum Block.  Basically, there are a lot of fast food places and the only sit-down restaurant is Applebee’s, sadly.

Regardless of the change in demographics over the years, it still remains that Jamaica is a commercial center although, in my opinion, the target population has shifted.  I chose Jamaica, Queens because it is the closest urban neighborhood to Queens Village, where I live.   I think the liveliness of the Ave on any given day, during any circumstance is perfectly described with the following:

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these Jamaica residents from the swift completion of their material acquisitions at discounted prices.

That is a little alteration to the unofficial US Postal Service creed that I created, and I think it sums up the atmosphere of the Ave.  There is never a day when you don’t find people making their rounds through the stores, shopping for the best deals they can find.

WORKS CITED

Boone, Ruschell. “Queens Week 2014: Jamaica No Longer Predominantly African-American Neighborhood.” Borough Spotlight. Time Warner Cable Enterprises, 15 Apr. 2014. Web. 25 Apr. 2014.

“JAMAICA, NY 11432.” 2010 Census for ZIP Code 11432, Population Demographics, JAMAICA NY, 2010 Census. Zip-Codes.com, n.d. Web. 18 Apr. 2014.

“Jamaica, Queens, NY.” FindTheBest.com, n.d. Web. 14 Apr. 2014.

“Queens (borough, New York City, New York, United States).” Encyclopedia Britannica Online. Encyclopedia Britannica, n.d. Web. 14 Apr. 2014.

There’s not enough time! There’s not enough time!

More often than not, that thought runs through my mind.  There’s not enough time!  Every day is filled with way too many tasks to be done and not enough sleep to be had.  I’d like to share a few things with you, so please, if you have a few minutes to spare, follow me as I take you through a typical weekday in the life of a commuter such as myself. 

Mornings (Monday through Friday).  You’re going to have to get up at 6:30am and it will be a struggle because most likely you were forced to go to bed late the night before doing homework.  That said, you take a 15-minute snooze until 6:45am, and then you take another one until 7:00am even though you know it will make you late.  You will have gotten to a point where you don’t even care because no matter what, you’re still going to be tired.

You go through the humdrum of the morning, brushing teeth, eating breakfast (most likely not), etc.  This is going to take you an hour because you move like a snail.  You have learned to dread weekday mornings because you’ve been doing the early morning commute since the 6^th grade.  You would think that you’d be accustomed to mornings, but unfortunately you’re not, and it’s still a constant day-to-day struggle for you.

Hopefully you can get out of the house by 7:30am.  If not, kiss being on time for your 9:30am class goodbye.

Travelling (every day of the week, sadly).  No matter what part of Manhattan you need to travel to, it will take you roughly 2 hours to get there and another 2 hours to get back because, according to your friends, you live in the “boondocks” of Queens.

You first take the Q83 bus to the Jamaica Center train station.  It will be a 30-minute ride.  Monday through Friday, you will board the E train to either 7 Ave-53 St to get the B/D or 42 St to get the 1.  No matter which station or train you transfer to, you will pass a stop (either 59St or 66 St) that will forever remind you of your simultaneous love and hatred for Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School of Music, Art and the Performing Arts, of which you are an alumnus.  Continuing on the 1 train, you’ll get off at 137 St-City College and have to trek up that wretched hill to campus.  Sarcastically, you’ll enjoy every minute of it.  What’s even worse is if you take the B/D you’ll either have to walk what feels like forever from 145 St or if you’re bold and in the mood for some exercise, you’ll walk up ALL those steps at 135 St through the park.  Don’t worry though, whichever route you take, you WILL be out of breath.

Heading home is the same ordeal.  Two hours of travelling.  Mondays, you’ll get home at 7:00pm, if you’re lucky.  Tuesdays and Thursdays depend on scheduling.  Wednesdays, it’ll be 10:00pm, if you’re lucky.  Fridays, 8:00pm.  Saturdays, 6:00pm, not bad.  Sundays, you hope to make it home by 10:30pm the latest.

Mornings (on the weekend).  As much as you wish you could sleep in, 7:00am is the best you can do on Saturday because you will have work from 10:00am-4:00pm and 8:00am is the best you can do on Sunday because you will have homework to do.  The same humdrum of the morning applies here.

Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays: Joy! You have work!  It’s only 6-7 hours of standing on your feet, walking around helping customers who, often times, don’t want to be helped.  Not to mention, for all your hard work on the sales floor, you’ll be awarded a measly 30-minute break that feels like it’s over just as quickly as it begins.  When not being distracted by the throngs of people coming and going through the store or listening to your coworkers making jokes, you’ll wonder how it is that you function on so little resting time.

But is there a bright side?  The easy answer is no.  You’d have to do some real digging to figure out if there really is.  Besides the fact that you’ve been on just about every train line that exists today, the life of a commuter is not very peachy. The worst part of commuting is dealing with crowded buses and trains.  It’s definitely no fun when you’re extremely tired and you have to ignore all of the people who are pushing the boundaries of your personal space.  Everything you have to do has to be on a tight schedule because you have to constantly factor in how long it will take you to get from place to place and how long it will take you to complete your tasks.  What a life to live.  And God forbid you should ever want to do something fun.  There’s just not enough time!

It was the 29^th of November in 1989, to be exact— when my mother stepped off of the plane and onto the New York pavement hand in hand with my eldest sister, Annjannette, who was only 8 years old at the time.  My mother left the comfort of the warm, humid Jamaica air in a dress and was in for a shock because, unbeknown to her, it was a cold and snowy that November day.  The biggest adjustment my mother had to make was to the weather.

Hopping off the plane after a three-hour flight, my mother found herself exhausted but nonetheless excited to be in the States.  Her first impression was Wow! This is so different from home!  She marveled at things as simple as the width of the street—they were much bigger in the States, along with the houses.  She was amazed at the amount of levels the houses had.  For the most part, the houses back in Jamaica typically had one level, so that was what she had become accustomed to.  Small differences like that were a big shock to her.

As soon as she got settled down with my sister and my father, she set out to find work, which did not take long at all.  Back home in Jamaica, she had worked as a secretary for the Energy Center and then as a secretary for the Students’ Union at the College of Art, Science and Technology, which was originally named the Jamaica Institute of Technology.  Once in the States, however, her sister-in-law was able to find her a job at Alexander’s, which was a major retail store at the time.  She worked there for a year or so as a receiving clerk, dealing with inventory.  Around January of 1990, my mother enrolled my sister into a school where she began the 3^rd grade.  In the fall of 1991, my mother set out to get her GED and enrolled in a certificate course in Office Information Systems at LaGuardia Community College in Long Island City, NY.  She did this while working at Burlington Coat Factory.  Finally she was able to settle down fully with my sister and my father in their own place in Far Rockaway, Queens where, years later, my other sister and I were born.

I asked my mother what hardships she had to endure with her transition to living in New York and there was not a single thing she could think of.  Not to make it seem like this was a fairytale transition, but everything, for the most part, ran smoothly for my mother when she finally came to New York.  She didn’t miss the culture back home.  She was here with her husband, child, and mother, so she had everything she needed.  At 20-something years old, she oozed excitement.  She was definitely looking forward to the change and now fully embraces her US citizenship but still acknowledges her Jamaican heritage.

For starters, Italia does not consider herself or her family to be immigrants.  That is because she is the 4^th generation of her family, which originates from Puerto Rico.  Her family has been in the United States for so long, and because she was born in America, Italia does not see herself as an immigrant.

Italia’s father came to the United States at the tender age of one month old.  He was born in 1972 in the city of Ponce, which is located in southern Puerto Rico.  He came to New York with both of his parents.

Born in 1947, Italia’s maternal grandmother came to the United States from Guayanilla, located in southeast Puerto Rico and just about 15.5 miles from Ponce.  She was 19 years old and came with her father, Italia’s great-grandfather.  She was more than happy when she arrived in the United States because it was a childhood dream of hers to move to New York.   It was in 1966 that Italia’s grandmother first settled down in Coney Island with her father, neither of them knowing a soul around them.

Even though Italia’s grandmother is technically a United States citizen in Puerto Rico, the quality of life was not the same there.  For that reason, her family came to New York in search of better opportunities.  It was with the intent of helping make money for the family and slowly bringing her siblings over into the US that Italia’s grandmother set out to find work.  Left behind in Puerto Rico still were three of Italia’s grand-aunts and one grand-uncle, and the situation at home was not going well financially.

Italia’s grandmother was not the oldest child.  However, although being a middle child, she was chosen to be the first to come to the United States because of her great desire to live here and because she began working at a very young age so she would have an easier time getting work.  It was entirely too expensive to bring everyone over at once.  This is why only one of the children could be chosen to come to New York.  Her plane ticket cost $46.  The rent at their Coney Island home was $98 per month.  Italia’s grandmother and great-grandfather worked very hard and by December of the same year (1966) Italia’s grandaunt, granduncle, and great-grandmother were able to come up to New York.

When Italia’s grandmother first came to New York, she set out to completely immense herself in American culture.  She would converse with the people around her whenever she got the chance.  She also watched a variety of television shows—Jeopardy was her favorite.  Adjustments to American culture were not so difficult for her.  She continued to cook the same foods that she did when she was in Puerto Rico, so adjusting to the food was not an issue.  For the most part, all that she struggled with was learning English.

Over the past 38 years since they have been living in New York, Italia’s grandmother has lived in about 6 different locations.  First, they lived in Coney Island in 1966.  Within a few years, Italia’s mother was born in 1973.  Her grandmother, great-grandfather, and mother then moved to Sheepshead Bay, where they lived for about five years.  Following that, they lived in Ocean Parkway.  After some time, they moved to Park Slope, Brooklyn where, on Valentine’s Day, Italia was born.  For a while, they all lived on Stratford Road, and soon after, they all moved to Bensonhurst in southeast Brooklyn where Italia was raised.  They finally settled down in Marine Park, Brooklyn, which is where they live currently.

All in all, everything that Italia’s grandmother hoped for with life in New York was realized and her dreams were fulfilled.  Everyone who was left to come into the United States is now living here happily.  It was the best decision for them to come to New York, and they couldn’t be happier.