Grant Writing: an Opportunity for Empathy

What is defined as the Melrose community means different things for different people. Geographically speaking, Melrose runs from 149th street to 161st street, bordered by Park and Prospect Ave. Beginning at 161st is the neighborhood of Morrisania. Because of the proximity of Melrose to Morrisania and the resources the residents share, the two are often used interchangeably by the those living in the South Bronx. Elissa Carmona considers herself a member of both communities, but because she frequently refers to Morrisania in her interview, that will be the neighborhood named in this exhibit.

The above preface about geography is a testament to the ambiguity of place because while urban planners and politicians create borders to define places, such places are sculpted and otherwise defined by how the community members engage with the place(s). In Place, Past, and Person philosopher Jeff Malpas asserts that “we are the sort of thinking, remembering, experiencing creatures we are only in virtue of our active engagement in place… our identities are, one can say, intricately and essentially place-bound.”[1] In other words, a place –– the total of the elements within it (ie. everything that makes up a park in that moment) –– shapes a person’s identity as they form a relationship with that place; and in these ever changing moments, the person’s presence similarly shapes the place, both as the individual defines it and as others define it with that individual’s presence. This idea is noticeable as Elissa so articulately explores her relationship with Morrisania, not having been raised there.

Elissa was born in Morrisania but grew up in Staten Island. Regardless of the physical distance, Elissa has always considered Morrisania her home because all of her family used to be here. She moved back to Morrisania when she had her daughter in high school and needed to live somewhere affordable. Elissa cited Morrisania as being one of the four poorest districts in America. She was not far from the statistics, for in 2010, the South Bronx was labelled the poorest district in America.[2] But Elissa was sure to add: “although it was quote unquote ‘a bad neighborhood,’ it’s a neighborhood I know… there was never a fear like something’s going to happen to me. I grew up with these folks.” Therefore, it was a move for affordability and family. Elissa was coming home.

After a while, her love for the neighborhood flourished. “Overtime, I began to see the beauty in the neighborhood. That had a lot to do with, you know, reading and research. I’m a grant writer by profession,” Elissa explained. Grant writing requires the author to know an in-depth history of the topic on which she is writing because her aim is to prove a need for funding. Every time Elissa had to write a new grant, she would learn something new about the neighborhood which made her feel even more connected to the space. One instance, for example, is when Elissa had to learn the history of the Governor Morris projects, the government funded housing her mother used to live in. According to Elissa, the majority of Morrisania sits on what used to be the Morris family farm. This lead her to ask “how rich were they!?” but little bits of history are also what keeps Elissa drawn to her community: “in learning the history, instead of seeing someone now that’s an alcoholic - I see a saxophone player or an army veteran or something like that.”

History offers itself as a vehicle for empathy. It allows Elissa to see more than crime; it allows me to see more than statistics; what form of empathy does this history teach you?

[1] Jeff Malpas, “Chapter 8: Place, Past, and Person,” in Malpas, Jeff, Place and Experience: A Philosophical Topography, 1999.

[2] http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/south-bronx-poorest-district-nation-u-s-census-bureau-finds-38-live-poverty-line-article-1.438344