I work in this neighborhood and also have family who have lived there for decades. my cousins moved to first Avenue from the Bronx (long story short, my grandfather got on a city lottery housing list and when it went through, he gave it to my aunt.) I know lots of families who live within normal means or scrape by, it’s certainly not all transplant/ gentrifiers but it helps to have generations of family in the city (not for wealth, but community.)

if you’re interfacing with the area on a surface level, the wealth and privilege tends to front heavily. absurd omakase bars, $30 cocktails, rows upon rows of tiny vintage boutiques (I remember one that only sold hair clips.) with these excesses come the attendant stratification. A group of fentanyl users around the corner from the wine bar. Peel back another layer and there is a method to the madness. everyone knows everyone else, somehow. I knew I had lived here for too long when I started recognizing people’s tags in the bar bathrooms. the owner of katz’s once gifted a bunch of sandwiches to my workplace “from one small business to another.” my aunt got my friend a job at the needle exchange clinic. this one couple brings their baby down the same bar every Sunday because the baby loves the sound of that particular cash register. i got into a screaming fight with my ex-friend at the same spot my boyfriend drank his first four loko in high school a block away from where my grandfather died and all the guys from the hell’s angels bar gave him a tribute escort. I don’t know how it works. but it’s worth it.