Kilby Street
Kilby Street is considered the toughest in Worcester. Known for drugs, prostitution and gangs, the people living there struggle to distance themselves from all that. They are people who are overlooked – unseen. Yet each person on Kilby has a story. A full life crammed in a one room apartment. Every day for them is a work of struggle and poetry. Walking around the block faces appear and disappear, smiles from some, averted eyes from others. The stories continue. Graffiti and lawn Madonna’s welcome all who come to Kilby Street.
Esther and Elvis — Esther was a long-time resident of Kilby Street. Knowing her over the span of a few years, she was open and effusive, laughing, childlike. But she was also lonely, and like a child, she would throw tantrums of the unfairness of it all. It was difficult for me, at times, to be with her, and yet impossible not to love her. Esther considers this her wall of glory - portraits of all her children, grandchildren and of course, the King.
Tony with Daughters Watching — Tony has been drunk for so long that blurry eyes and slurred speech make it hard to tell he has actually been sober for many years. The hardships he endures have left marks all over him, but have not taken his willingness to be kind. Ailing health has left Tony reluctantly dependent on others. His daughters are there to take him out, telling him to move along. Despite his need, he curses them out. But then he sighs, gets up and gives them both a hug.
Willie with a Picture of Himself — Willie worked 22 years at a foundry until his back gave out. “I had to work three shifts. I got to know everybody. I miss the job a lot.” Now he sits in his one room lodging waiting for life to change. When we talk about his life, sometimes he stops abruptly, turns on the tv, and lights another cigar. I gave him the photo knowing for some reason that he wouldn’t like it. He said, “I usually take a much lighter photo. Not this dark.” Then he put the photograph on his dresser.
Maryann and Grandchild — Maryann takes care of her baby-sweetheart-honeypie while her daughter works as a nurse’s aide. Suffering from diabetes for many years she doesn’t leave the house much, but she worries that she is putting the baby at risk. “If something happens to me before Alicia gets home from work, what will happen?” Maryann holds her grandchild close. She loves this baby more than life itself.
The Human Ramp — They are the kids of one of the roughest neighborhoods in Worcester, riddled with crime, poverty and despair. It is neglected by the rest of the city, as if there were no use bothering. Yet the people who live on Kilby and Gardner continue on with their life. The children understand their place in the world, but still they persist. They build the ramp using each other to make it happen. They create their own playground and never stop looking for joy. They do this willingly, laughing out loud.
Preparing for the Posse — Not far off being young men, these boys know where they are headed. At times it seems there is no stopping them. They walk along as if they are a pack. Seeing me, they forget themselves and wave hi. Then Carlito remembers to strut and he turns away. The others want to see the pictures, want to strike new poses, ask how they can be camera people and joke around. They are curious and earnest, even Carlito. Then they fall in – bang, bang. They shimmer between children and thugs.
Being Saved — Pastor Juan has a Baptist church that mostly people from Nicaragua, El Salvador and some Dominicans and Puerto Ricans attend. The pastor kept warning me of the urgent need for my soul to receive salvation. Finally when he was nearly at the end of the line of people to give blessings, he insisted I come up there and be saved. So I was saved. Most of the worshippers at the church had suffered such hardship. Always powerless against the more powerful. Most came from poor countries and now in the US they are ready to start again - give their best. They don’t ask for much here and they are given even less. At the church they find hope, even if they must once again submit to a higher power.
Jesus and the Baby — The baby is part of a parish of Vietnamese Christians that rent out the church once a week. Worcester has a rich and diverse population but they do not interact, intertwine. Though I don’t know their language, they let me hear their story. The toddler was all over the church as the congregation sat for mass. He was running, squealing, no one minded. Some would pat him as he galloped by, others would wag their finger at him and he laughed. It seemed everyone saw him as a blessing, even Jesus.
Esther, Mississippi, and Tanya — Enveloped in a sea of red-checked wool, Mississippi gives me a great big hug and a kiss on the forehead. I only met him yesterday to take his picture, but he prides himself on knowing everyone. Esther says “I was alone up in that house for two solid whole years, not a soul to help me. But I’ve been with him now for four years. So see, I was waiting for him to come back, cause I didn’t have nobody! I’m happy cause I have him back…he helps me a lot…I love him – I’ve got to love somebody otherwise I’m all alone.”
Monique’s Kiss — Monique was jovial to most people, but in knowing her, she eventually shared her secrets, more in resignation than anything else, unable to keep them hidden. She struggled with drug addiction, abuse that followed her wherever she went, and little belief in herself. Then she had Isiah, and there was no room for any of that, all she could feel was love.
