Hustling as a rite of passage

 Hustling as a rite of passage

 

Hustle hus·tle 

 

To obtain money by any legal means necessary. Instead of dealing, which is obtaining money by any illegal means available. Hustling is not only an art but a way of life. To hustle is to live in many places where the underground economy rules and the above economy denigrates. Hustling is the reality where decent jobs are denied, limited, or non-existent, hope is decried against the backwash of negativity, and dignity is found in humble abodes often bereft of other comforts. Hustling fills the void between household earnings and household needs. Hustling is where dreams meet reality, where myth meets essence, and where life meets eternity. Hustling is where my reality began at the age of 6.

 

Shoe-shine boy walking down the boulevard with a box filled with polish and an eye for the mark. Shoe shine boy, that’s what I was, fixin' to make all the nickels and dimes a ‘lil one could make. Shoe shine boy, standing tall, walking down the boulevard. With a bit of spit and polish, make sure that the rag snaps and the shoe shines. “Brilliant shine, see your face in it, sir –double shine for a nickel more.” Shining those shoes –late Friday and early Saturday morning. Meeting ole Slim at the barber shop –shining shoes long into the night. Pockets jingling with the coins, $10 or $20 on a good day. Hustling those shines.  

 

Springtime hustle at the age of 8, selling those seeds from burpee. Sunflowers, squash, watermelons and zinnias, tomatoes, and cucumbers are guaranteed to grow. Everything grows in the Mississippi mud. River floods each year. You must remember to close off the valve; otherwise, when it floods, your basements will be filled with mud, gunk, and bugs from the sewers. Just how big do those critters get, damn sob’s get bigger than a fist –eatin off that Mississippi sh*t. But it is good for gardening, don’t you know. Mississippi mud, burpee, and hustling at the age of 8.

Selling that Crusader’s (black-owned and operated)  ten cents a pop, and I got 3 cents for my own. Sell a thousand papers and get a whole 30 smacks. But who the hell can sell that many for a weekly paper that only came out on Thursday evening and was old news then but was ancient by Saturday. So between 200-300 was all I could do-and six bucks was nice for a 9-year-old hustler. Strange you don’t see paper boys today, no this too has gone over to adults. What do kids do now to hustle?

Hustling at the age of 10, old Jack Ben cooked fish, queuing ribs and snoots. Snoots, crackling good, right off the grill –hard, crisp, and dunk in the sauce. Hustling the que –that would be b-b-que –flavored with hickory, secret spices from the hood – a bit of vinegar, tomato sauce, paprika, and salt –can’t tell the rest cause it’d be no secret then. Que-ing early in the morning now -50 cents an hour, the show was grand. Hustling on the weekend at the BBQue stand. The only bad thing about working in a BBQ stand is that you get to eat all the Q you can. And after a bit, even the best Q is old –can a brotha get a burger and some fries. Micky d me won’t you please.

Times -was about 12, down at Kroger Friday night bout 6. Hustling the carts –filled with everything, Kroger had it all. Mothers, old and young –“Can I help you with your groceries, ma’am.” Pushing the cart ever so easy, don’t want to dint the car or hit the mark. “You want them in the trunk or back seat.” On a good Saturday, it is -20 dollars, and Friday includes another 10. Thirty dollars for a weekend Hustle is not bad for a kid 12. 

 

Hustling to make an honest buck –one nickel, dime, and quarter at a time. Not bad, walking the hood –hear that boy –Cru …Saiiii….Der…got those burpee seeds, lady needs me to pack those groceries, hey mister how bout a shine make sure you can see the stars in those shoes, que sho is fine –you know a transistor radio only cost 6 bucks, a balloon jersey 25, and a brand new pair of wing-tipped Florsheim –can you say 32.50 –yea give me a hustle –sharpest kid on the corner with a hustle. 

 

Times do change, but hustling remains the same. It was a rite of passage, our journey into self-reliance, responsibility, and adulthood. It was a way to prove that we could make it on the mean streets, in the hood, on the corner. For us it meant that we did not have to deal or steal, we did not have to pimp or turn wimp. It meant that we could stand on our own two feet. For us, it meant that we could survive. We learned how to make a way when there was no way. Making it in a community where unemployment always ran high, poverty was on every corner, and despair was taken for granted –hustling was a way of beating the odds, captioning your own ship, and walking tall in the neighborhood. Hustling as a way of life –our rite of passage. Gotta make a quick dollar, gotta stand tuff, gotta walk tall - gimme a hustle.