Yelp

A couple of days after I got laid off, I was still a mess. My stomach hurt constantly and I felt really sorry for myself to the point of not being able to think about anything else. I decided to get a massage- something I've only done a couple of other times in my life. I used google maps to find a place within walking distance of my apartment.  No Yelp reviews, but I was so out of it, I didn't care.

The office was in an old apartment building on Eastern Parkway. Walking in, hundreds of copies of Ebony, Vibe and Essence magazines from at least the last five years hung in magazine holders on the walls. African and black-centric art covered every inch of wall space. The television blasted with Fox News (of all stations) showing updates about the Trayvon Martin case. "How did you hear about us?" the receptionist asked cautiously, "just walking by and seeing our sign? Do you live around here?" she guessed to help me. She also told me this was primarily a dentist's office, so if I needed a dentist I should come again.

I realized, then, that I was probably one of the only white people to ever step into that reception room.  Though Crown Heights has way more white people walking around now than ever, inside here, Crown Heights hadn't changed at all.

The massage therapist's father was the dentist. He'd been there for decades and had offered his daughter a room to do massage, though she said her main business was Brazilian waxes. She was really kind and gave me a decent massage. She said she was having trouble getting clients, even though there wasn't any competition within a 20-block radius. I got that it would be an uphill battle to attract other new white neighbors to the office. The slightly-rundown space, lack of online presence and the working class black-centricness screams of a Crown Heights that is being run out of town by upscale baby stores and brightly lit yoga studios. Realistically, if I hadn't been such a mess the day I was making an appointment, I'm not sure that I would have gone to a place without even one online review.

In my post-massage bliss, her dad, introduced himself and excitedly showed off some of his art collection that covered the walls almost up to the ceiling. He showed me one of the dental rooms that he was fixing up.

As I was leaving, I told the massage therapist that I would do a Yelp Review for her business, something I've never done before. I know a lot of my people- young, white educated people, wouldn't go get a massage at a place without at least one review, so I figured I would do my part. Here it is.