COMMENTARY

I know the hood when I see it, but I had not planned to photograph it.

When I came to Harrisburg from Memphis, Tenn., The Patriot-News had just won the Pulitzer Prize, which for newspapers is like winning the Super Bowl.

Portraits of Harrisburg 28 Gallery: Portraits of Harrisburg

I realized that I had to get my act together, because these guys were the truth. I made up my mind that I would find a portfolio-quality personal story to photograph this summer.

My first week's assignments took me around the city, and my first impression was that Harrisburg appeared to be a smaller version of Detroit: a once-thriving city fallen on hard times. There's dilapidated housing, trash everywhere, limited franchise establishments and potholes galore.

The housing and property maintenance I saw were below standard, in my experience. Occupied units were next door to abandoned homes with filth and rodents. There were broken windows, graffiti on the walls and bedsheets for curtains.

I visited Allison Hill -- later learning that the people who live there simply call it "The Hill."

I saw people in the city who had that "just trying to survive" feel to them.

I witnessed a diversity I had never seen before. Memphis is pretty segregated, at least in the $75,000-and-below housing areas. In Harrisburg, behind the abandoned housing, trash and crime statistics, there is a melting pot of cultures and a treasure of hope, determination, love and pride.

Puerto Ricans, blacks, whites, Mexicans and Africans all have in common their struggle for a better life. In the midst of their struggles were the simple things that bring joy: pool parties, block parties, friendships, cultural integration, purchasing a taco from the Taco Truck.

I decided to start shooting photos.

At first, when I approached people to tell them my story and asked permission to photograph them, they would say, "Naw, man. No, thank you."

I kept going back. I talked with people, and I kept asking.

One woman sitting on her front stoop had a "look" about her.

Mindi was reluctant to let me photograph her. The mother of one and grandmother of two told me, "The majority of the city's violence stems from no work. The economy has affected Harrisburg in a powerful way.

"Kids grow up poor and become what they see," she said. "There's nothing here for kids to do, so they turn to crime."

Culturally Diverse 25 Gallery: Culturally Diverse

If they invest in the schools and stop investing in downtown, the city's situation could get better, she said.

At first glance, some parts of this city might appear to be violent, run-down, poverty-stricken and helpless.

The story is more complicated.

There's joy.

There's also generational frustration.

As I continued to shoot, it was clear that people here were facing the same issues as people in Memphis and in Lima, Ohio; Bowling Green, Ky.; Nashville; and New Orleans.

People can't find work. Cities are cutting recreational budgets. There's less to occupy youths' minds, so they get creative with mischief, pregnancies and drugs.

Some are cool with that. Others want out, but it isn't easy.

They look for jobs but can't find them. They have rent to pay and kids to feed, and resort to a "by any means necessary" mindset to survive. They get caught and end up back where they started: trying to find a job, but with a record.

It becomes a cycle.

I asked people on The Hill how they felt about their city.

"It ain't no jobs here," was the common answer. "The city's broke ... and the mayor doesn't know what she's doing."

People feel their politicians have failed them.

In spite of the problems I saw, I also saw hope and fun, old-fashioned horseplay and people just hanging out in the neighborhoods.

A birthday is a birthday -- whether it's in a $250,000 house or in Section 8.

Family is family.

In the end, Mindi let me photograph her.

So did many others.

Their stories -- their lives -- are an integral part of this city, its challenges and its dreams.

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