Yesterday Joseph Russell (@thegreengrass) provided the first of quite a few guest posts I have in the queue here for the Christmas holidays. Joe wrote about Camden from the perspective of the South Jersey suburbs, and I wanted to pick up on a few of his themes. In particular, Joe’s narrative of a city linked to the suburbs by its familial lineage counters the people need to know about Camden and people don’t care about Camden narratives that seem to justify horror stories in the national press (and the constant focus on violence locally).
Joe talks about the suburbs and focuses largely on how to escape from car culture. The theme is a familiar one; a desire to see more Main Streets, to live a new urban lifestyle, and a longing glance at Camden with the hope that old-school urban shopping and living can flourish there. But what I find so interesting about Joe’s piece is how he frames that discussion. He does it by talking about “parents:”
There’s no reason Broadway can’t be a great shopping district for the area. Our parents tell us that it once was. There’s no reason we can’t support the residents of the city trying to make as good a life for themselves as they can, just like anyone else in South Jersey is in their own towns.
As much as some would believe otherwise, we’re all in this together. We are a region. We have common goals and dreams. Especially today, when people like me are turning to the older communities that our parents left, there is no reason we can’t try our hardest to help return Camden to its prosperous past.
This subtle theme, the link through lineage of South Jersey to Camden, keeps coming front and center in my discussions of my work. Over and over, folks come up to me and ask about Camden, explaining that their family had lived there and moved out.
One of the common justifications for what I’ve taken to calling “poverty porn” in my classes (national media outlets coming to Camden to write a predetermined horror story about poverty and violence) is that people need to know about Camden and people don’t care about Camden. And yet, it seems that in the region, Camden’s not only on the mind of many, but that communities are nostalgic and considerate about the city.
At a time when regional cooperation is being emphasized (see Bruce Katz’s Metro Revolution), I’m starting to believe there is an opportunity in this collective memory. When I speak at local schools, or to residents of Collingswood or Cherry Hill, folks are unbelievably curious about the city, and eager to tell their own Camden stories.
But while there is certainly Camden nostalgia, there are also scars, as many moves away from the city seem to be precipitated by some form of local violence or drug abuse in the neighborhood.
I’ve started to wonder how some of these historical wounds can be healed, and if the regional interest in Camden can be instrumental in overcoming some of the uglier sides of suburban NIMBYism (the historical dumping of exploitative businesses, facilities, and prisons into Camden). If, as Katz argues, one of the challenges of modern cities comes in its relationship with its suburbs, then Camden has a wonderful opportunity. The memory of a thriving Camden has been passed from parent to child in the South Jersey suburbs.
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