Saturday, November 23, 2013
There are a lot of churches in our neighbourhood. They range from eccentric store fronts to monumental bodies of stone and brick. Sometimes bells ring. Gospel singing shivers the air on Sundays.
This, above, is a big 'un on Malcom X Boulevard. Also known as Lenox Avenue.
And on that wide boulevard's intersection with 125th, outside the 2/3 subway stop, people often stand and preach. Or protest, or proclaim. About the recent shooting of a black woman in Detroit, for example. Shame on you. The other day, as I walked south to shop, it was a group of enormous black men in costumes which looked like the Middle Ages met a biker gang by way of a noir Ku Klux Clan. Big black boots, metal studs, tassels and black Gothic fabric details, a lot of leather and variety of head coverings. There was a sign, Babel-something, and they took it in turns to preach against homosexuality through a loud hailer. They were graphic. They hailed passersby.
I was on the opposite side of the street, four lanes away and it stopped me in my tracks. I'd never heard such a thing. I looked around to see what everybody else was thinking. Nobody was paying much attention.
I walked on.