El Barrio: A Closer Look at the Harlem That Raised Our Parents

Harlem today is a designer-clad ghost of its own legacy—a gentrified costume wearing the name but none of the soul. But before the brunch spots, the surveillance cameras, and the influencer-friendly murals, there was El Barrio. A stretch of grit and culture where Puerto Ricans, Blacks, and yes—even the Italians who now clutch their pearls—were all thrown into the same melting pot whether they liked it or not.

Between 1945 and 1985, El Barrio wasn’t a vibe—it was an ecosystem. A place where families like mine landed after leaving Puerto Rico to build new lives in cold tenement buildings that somehow still felt warmer than the island homes they left behind. My mother, her siblings, my grandmother, and her step-father—Justliano Rivera Sr.—they weren’t tourists. They lived it. They survived it. And every story they told became a brick in the foundation of who I am.

The Original Barrio: Culture, Chaos, and Codes

Back then? Harlem wasn’t “ghetto glam.” It wasn’t Instagrammable poverty. It was culture with teeth, music being born in open windows, the smell of adobo and cigar smoke above cracked sidewalks, and kids running wild because the block raised everybody.

There was danger—of course there was danger. But there was also a code. Even the hustlers had morale. OGs checked the youngins. A look from an elder meant something. Neighbors fought, screamed, borrowed sugar, raised each other’s kids, and cussed each other out in the same breath. You couldn’t buy those dynamics; you inherited them.

Compare that to now:
Surveillance this. Cancel that. Report this. Exploit that.
Harlem doesn’t breathe the same—it wheezes under a thousand eyes and zero loyalty.

The Italians, the Puerto Ricans, and the Odd Dance of Racism

And let’s clear something up: I STILL do not understand why some Italians held (and sometimes still hold) racist views toward Puerto Ricans. Because back in the day? They were in the same crowded tenements, the same city jobs, the same police lineups. They were profiled too—categorized right alongside Blacks and Ricans.

But racism is a strange, ironic beast. Sometimes the people closest to our struggle are the quickest to distance themselves from it. Italians, Puerto Ricans, Blacks—we were all in Harlem, all scraping, all stigmatized. But some Italians clung to whiteness like it was a lifeboat, forgetting they were sitting on the same steps as us.
Yet there we were—side by side in the boroughs, dancing around each other’s cultures and prejudices like an awkward family reunion.

Music, Movement, and a Neighborhood That Roared

Before Harlem became a brand, it was a forge.

New music wasn’t imported—it was created on those blocks.
Salsa, boogaloo, soul, doo-wop—it wasn’t history then, it was just Saturday night.
People weren’t posing for culture; they were living it raw.

My family’s stories paint it as loud, messy, dangerous, beautiful—alive.
A version of New York City that could break you and make you in the same hour.

Harlem After 2000: A Name Without the Spirit

So when people today brag about being from Harlem—especially El Barrio—after 2000?
Eh… respectfully:
It’s not the same badge of honor it used to be.

Because the Harlem that raised our parents and grandparents? That Harlem doesn’t exist anymore. The city scrubbed it, sold the pieces, and painted over the rest.

But those with lineage—those with memories, stories, scars—they still carry the real Harlem inside them like a heartbeat. Now, how much is passed down to younger generations is up for debate. I fear that my "old" New York has passed away, and we are left with mere remnants of what once was an awesome experience to be a part of - if you were lucky enough to have been raised by real-deal New Yorkers in the best city on the eastern seaboard.

THE FOLLOWING BLOG ARTICLES ARE PUBLISHED ON EXTERNAL SITES - IMAGERY BELOW LEADS TO MY OTHER WEBSITES

UPGRADE YOUR PUERTO RICAN HOLIDAY MENU BY RETIRING OUTDATED SLAVE FOOD

ISLAND PRIDE -VS- NUYORICAN REALITIES

AN ATTEMPT TO DECIPHER MY PUERTO RICAN DNA

A WATERED-DOWN BLOODLINE - ETHNIC CULLING AND GENOCIDE

ANOTHER LOSING BATTLE: CANCER DISPARITIES AMONG WOMEN OF COLOR, PRIMARILY BORICUAS

LOST TRADITIONS

ABOUT VOODOO'S LITTLE SISTER, SANTERIA