Have you ever been to a ghetto/“hood” area of a major metropolitan area?
I’ve lived in the ghetto.
Count that as being from the ghetto.
That is incorrect.
About a year after Katrina, I went down to New Orleans with a volenteer group from my church. We spent some time (though not much) touring the areas that were still in the worst shape. We didn’t stay in the vans the whole time so I voted as the third option.
BTW, when I was living in the ghetto I saw quite a few Negroes. One time I even talked to one and lived to tell about it. I’ve lived a rich life. In the ghetto.
Are you defining ‘ghetto’ as someplace predominately black or someplace where there is a high incidence of gang violence or other crime? I used to commute through Southeast WDC, which is arguably a ghetto environment, and two of my kids went to elementary school there. I walked through Harlem back in the 60s. I’ve been to Southie, which I guess could be called an Irish ghetto. I’ve been to north Portland and to the slummier parts of Seattle. Also to Oakland and some iffy parts of some SoCal towns. I was in a couple of very bad sections of St. Thomas, VI, although that’s not a major urban area. In Europe, I’ve walked in the more iffy parts of Paris, London, Frankfurt, and several other cities.
Through all of that, I never had a problem with the locals, although there was a bad moment in St. Thomas. Most of my excursions were during the day, which mitigates a lot of threats.
Well, once on a cold and grey Chicago morn’.
Los Angeles. 5th street and the 110.
Yep, more than a few times, and I stuck out like a sore thumb.
When I first moved to NYC, I got to know some of the neighborhoods by randomly choosing a subway line and getting off at a random stop. It turned out that, a generation earlier, my father had done exactly the same thing.
Whoa! I thought I saw a negro once outside my gated community once.
I thought it was ghetto where I lived until I was ten* but there weren’t any tours so now I’m not sure.
*for Massachusetts values of ghetto
We don’t really have a ghetto here, but I work in a barrio…
Scottsdale does have alleys behind its strip malls. Brown people love alleys.
I have been in some of the most dangerous, poverty-stricken areas of Baltimore, New York and Philadelphia (got shot at twice in Baltimore, but at least a rat didn’t jump out an’ bite mah new nylons!).
When I worked in Brazil I went in to several favelas regularly, usually to find some scumbag parent of one of our kids. I’ve also visited people I knew there, usually for parties. And they were the most incredible parties too! 
The people were the kindest you’ll ever meet. I never felt unsafe, though a kid did once point a gun at me. He was just sort of joking though, wanted to see how I’d react. I’d still say though (just in case anyone is tempted) DO NOT go into a favela unless you know someone & you’re with someone from there. And never, ever, ever in a million years get involved in anything drug related.
ETA:
Whoo Eve, you can’t just leave us hanging like that! How/why did you get shot at? Tell, please?
Chicago south side, 63rd St. a few times while I was at the University of Chicago. I walked around, I may have done some shopping. I don’t remember too many details, this was in the late 60’s.
Roddy
We do, que chingao!
I was born and lived the first 6 years of my life in one of the quintessential poster children for “ghetto”, the South Bronx from 1970-1976. One of my earliest memories was getting evacuated from my day care because the apartment building next door was burning down. It was a huuuuuge fire and smoke everywhere… And from outside my apartment window I overlooked a rubble and trash (and probably worse) strewn lot that in retrospect was probably a burned down building in its day, as I doubt it was actually an empty lot 10 years prior. I remember “playing” with roaches in our bathtub too (before the water started filling in).
My parents moved to a much more suburban area of Queens when I was about 6 though, so I can’t say I’m really “from” the ghetto I suppose. But being born and having formative memories of the place (and time) should count for something.