I would like to share my story of being immigration in your own neighborhood; it is not the typical immigration story. This is a story of strangers taking over my neighborhood. I am now a stranger at home, an immigrant! in the place I call home my neighborhood! “I am now an immigrant in my own neighborhood” When I walk down the street in my neighborhood, I see no one, I use to know. I know everybody. there all strangers in my hood (Genderfide ) the Hipster stole the hood. It's a different style the houses are new modern look. There are no more kids to hear laughing and playing outside. Everything that used to be is now gone. All my friends are gone moved away. I feel like i am now the stranger in my own hood. My neighborhood is gentrified I am now a stranger, when I walk around, I look like a tourist everything has changed the restaurants, the coffee house, and people, look at me like I don't belong? I feel like an immigrant in my own neighborhoods. In my old neighborhood, I walk down the street and where I grew up, there are no kids playing? My old school is gone torn down and replaced. It stranger to walk down my block and see it lookin the same except people have been torn away and replaced. My hood looks the same but, yet I see no familiar faces. Houses have been painted Different colors, different landscapes new plants new trees different cars different. different neighborhood.I miss my neighborhood I do not see any children playing. I remember, when we were children now sunny days are gone, and that old lonesome feeling takes you by surprise.
– Cecilia Rael