L-R: Arabia(me), Grandma Jackie, Sharena, Kaleena(Punta), Mommy, Amil(Nooshie), Uncle Prince, Auntie Eddie, Science, Shelia, Nubia, Niyea, and Kendell
Arabia Simeon (She/they)
Tompkins houses , NYCHA, 1997-2021
It seemed like every Sunday was a celebration in my family. We were super close, everyone would come over to my house because my grandma was living with us. My grandma was the nucleus of my family in NYC. She was hilarious and everyone loved her. She was honest. Before my grandma was bed bound she was huge in her community in Far Rockaway. I remember looking up to her and how much impact she made in her hood, while being a mother, having a job, etc. My mother took after her. She is loving, resilient and tells it how it is. I admire that.
My mother and sisters would spend Saturday night and Sunday morning prepping all the food. I can still remember the soul food aroma traveling through our 3 bedroom NYCHA apartment. My mom would open the door whenever she cooked big meals so we could get air circulating. My little sisters, cousin and I always used this as an opportunity to run up and down the hall with our neighbors. We would bring out our scooters, play tag, and climb the walls pretending to be Black spy kids. One of the beauties of growing up in the projects is that your neighbors become more like family.
On Sundays, my grandma’s 13 grandkids, kids, nephew, sisters and neighbors would all come together. The kids would be running around and the adults gathered around a friendly game of putty pat. We would blast all the cookout jams, eat great food, dance, and laugh until the sun went down.
Sundays were always filled with love. Especially on my floor.