Did you participate in “National Night Out" (NNO) Last Tuesday?
NNO is an annual, nationwide event where neighbors host potluck block parties to build community. For the past 4 years, my friend Chelsie and I have been co-hosting our NNO with not just our block, but our 5-street “secret” haven of Cedar-Isles Dean in Minneapolis.
While many folks came up to us to thank us for hosting, the reality is - it takes a village to make this happen. Some design & print flyers, some deliver them, some bring tables and chairs, some set up the garbage cans, games and ice waters, some set up the face painting and pickle ball court.
It amazes me how this one time a year is sometimes the ONLY time we see some of our neighbors.
Suffice to say, our NNO was a beautiful coming together of community and getting to know the neighbors – who somehow don’t know us, but know our fluffy dog, Einstein!
But before our wonderful NNO, I was faced with the stark reality that the idea of “neighbor” is getting narrow to many people.
I’ve traveled the globe and lived in many cities - so to me, EVERYONE is my neighbor. What happened to me on NNO made me realize that “neighbor” to others means the literal neighborhood designated by imaginary lines floating above the land.
Before our NNO, I took Yash, my 12-year-old, to violin lessons in a neighborhood of St. Louis Park. It was 7 minutes away from home and an area we’ve been coming to for the last decade to shop, eat and walk our dog. I dropped him off, waved to his teacher at the front door and headed to the nearby Target to recycle my plastic bags, return some bike locks (they were too small) and get some muffins and cheese and crackers for our already-in-progress NNO.
Back at the violin teacher’s house, I parked across the street, facing the direction I needed to go to head home. I saw a father and son with orange cones and a wagon at the corner.
“They must be getting ready for NNO, too,” I thought.
I had a few minutes before Yash would be done with his lesson, so I made a very quick phone call to a neighboring business to see if they could transfer stuff from DVD/CD to a USB. Despite their name, “We transfer anything to DVD,” they said YES!
I kept the car running because I expected Yash any minute. As I was on the phone, I heard a knock on my window. Something between a gentle knock and a banging. I was a bit startled, so anxiety took the wheel and I hurried off the phone and fumbled for the window button.
Before I could even open it, the man started speaking. Glancing at the phone it was 5:13pm - just 2 more minutes for Yash to come out.
“You gotta move. I’m closing the street!” demanded the voice on the outside.
“I’m just waiting for my son, he should be 2 minutes.” I replied.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m closing the street.” he said and quickly they both ran up the block to close off my exit.
As he ran away, I opened my car door and yelled, “Why do you have to be so aggressive about it?”
I waited, not wanting to give in and move. My heart pounded.
They returned to the corner close to the violin teacher’s house and again the father scolded, “I’m closing this side…you’re gonna be stuck!”
By this time, my son was supposed to be out, but wasn’t. “I just need a few minutes.”
He started blocking the back exit off with orange cones and yelled, “Move around the block and park there!”
With anxiety some take flight and retreat, some freeze and some fight. I did all three. First I was frozen by his angry demands. Though his suggestion was a good idea, I didn’t want to give in to his nastiness. I froze. I watched the cars who had passed the cones and reached the other side. On realizing it was blocked by yellow caution tape, they U-turned out.
The father had to leave this entry way open for those folks to come out. But Yash was still not out! So I was getting ever closer to being stuck.
One option was to fight - which meant waiting for Yash and breaking through the caution tape on exit.
From my “battle” with trichotillomania, and my “dance” with breast cancer, I’ve learned that fighting with challenges makes the challenge grow and the process miserable. So I took flight and did what I decided was the right thing: park on the side street.
I was out of sight from my son and I knew he’d freak out if he didn’t see me in my usual pick up spot. So, I got out of the car and waited on the teacher’s lawn.
I apologized to a neighbor outside next to the violin teacher’s house, who was in earshot of our loud conversation. She told me that they were just told the street would be closed and had just sent her teen to move their car because they had to leave soon. She also shared that they weren’t even invited to this NNO event because it was technically a different map-drawn neighborhood.
WTF. It was literally right across the street.
I watched the man shoo away drivers as he and his son taped this side of the street closed.
“The whole point of NNO is to build community and be kind to our neighbors.” I commented.
“Look at what you are teaching your child.” I scolded.
Silence.
I asked again, “Why do you have to be so aggressive?”
He shrugged, “Then call the cops.”
I thought about it. But decided not to. One, I didn’t want to waste our police’s precious time on a dispute that two seemingly intelligent people could handle on their own. Two, I realized that just like in elementary school, it’s not illegal to be a d*ck. It hit me that bullies (and a lot of men) get away with a hell of a lot of shit. If the roles were reversed, and he was in the car and I was the one saying “You better move,” I doubt he would have stood for it.
So yes all this ran through my head in a matter of seconds. From the corner of my eye I was brought back to the moment.
A woman in a white SUV approached the small opening he’d left, rolled down her window and asked, “Can I get through? I live here and need to park my car.”
His demeanor changed, gently saying, “Oh, sure,” as he moved the orange cone to make space.
From the safety of the teacher’s lawn, I threw my arms up and yelled “Oh c’mon.”
Inside, I thought, “Why was she getting different treatment?”
He responded, “she’s a neighbor!”
As I pointed to the violin teacher’s house, I yelled back, “I live 7 min away, I’m visiting your neighbor, I’m a neighbor too.”
I continued, “You are being so aggressive. Everything you said, you could have said nicely.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” He responded as he and his son ran off to their house.
Though the street closing job was done, not ONE person in this 20-minute ordeal came outside for NNO.
Finally, Yash came out with the teacher and I heard her saying something about NNO.
I turned to her and said, “Oh, I’m sorry if you heard the yelling.”
“What yelling?”
I told her what happened.
She said, “I spoke to someone hosting and told them I have students coming until 6:15pm, and they said it would be fine.”
WTF.
>>>>>> The moment we stop treating each other as equals, society breaks down. This man clearly did not see me as an equal. I was not his neighbor. I don’t want to play the race card, I’m fairly light skinned, but I cannot pass for being white. And I know unconscious bias is a thing, thanks to my life experience and my friend Jessica Nordell’s book, “The End of Bias, A Beginning.”
To him, I was an outsider and was met with aggression from the start. He started talking before I could hang up the phone, before I could put the window down. But he showed me - in how he treated the woman in the car - that he could be neighborly.
He could have just as easily approached my car, knocked gently, and said, “Excuse me, it's NNO. We need to close the street soon to prepare. Could you please move to the side street to wait?”
If that happened, I wouldn't be writing this story.
Instead, he asserted power and taught his kid that to get people to do what you want you need to make demands and instill fear (“You’ll be stuck soon.”)
I wanted that kid to unlearn that lesson right quick.
An hour later, as I broke bread with my NNO neighbors, I received a text from the violin teacher.
She said a man came by to apologize.
I don’t think that gesture is too little, too late. I’m hopeful that our interaction sparked conversation amongst him, his family and his neighbors. And his final response of acknowledging he could have done better is a huge step for building community.
I’m sure there are things I could have done differently - and better - too. Like not yelling across the street and instead going close to have a more cordial discussion. And this whole scenario reminded me of another recent encounter I had, that we can all “do better.” I’ll share that story soon.
Wishing you love, strength and awareness.
Your neighbor,
Aneela Idnani
header image credit: Shopify AI Image generator
Jose Andrés quote image credit: Ashley Grounds