Without a doubt, one of the best parts of living in Pittsburgh is my return to what I call "Black World." A definition is elusive, but I know that Columbus and Pittsburgh are in it and the whole of the Pacific Northwest is not.
"In Seattle," d'Andre once observed, "Even the brothers are whiny white guys."
It is where I am from. It's somehow in my DNA. And now I've returned to this land where the word "diversity" never seems to come up in conversation, possibly because we're too busy actually being diverse. I don't think of it very often, but every once in a while, something slaps me into perspective. Like when a Seattle person corrects my use of the term black.
"So last night, I was in a black bar on R&B night, and the band played Sara fuckin' Smile..."
"Is that unusual in an African-American establishment?" Seattle white chick replied haughtily.
Two decades of my life with these people.
That night in the African-American establishment, the owner greeted me by slapping my back. "Hey, man. Good to see you. Still crusading against Hall & Oates?"
"Damn straight."
He laughed and added that on that particular night, I was "lookin' fly."
Affirmation from the coolest brother in town. I don't care if he was pandering to his customer. In my mind, I've already framed this compliment.
I texted the story to Allie. "What's 'fly' mean?" came the response.
Two decades of my life with these people.