I typically try not to go off on rants in my blog, but today, I need to set the record straight. I had a conversation this morning, with a certain local politician (who will remain nameless) and he kept referring to my neighborhood as Barry Farms. It is a common mistake, but coming from someone who lives in River East and actually represents the area, I was a bit concerned that he did not seem to be aware that the neighborhood is actually called Barry Farm (no "s" at the end of Farm). I let it go, as I typically do, but while reading an email from a fellow River East resident, there it was again, in plain bold type.Now before I decided to dedicate an entire entry on the name of my neighborhood I did check some sources, and sure enough, I am correct, there is no "s" at the end of Farm. And as much as I would like to go back to everyone who has ever wrongfully addressed my neighborhood, I recognize I am an adult and cannot say "na nana boo boo" and point my finger and do a little victory dance. I am however, going to give a brief history lesson about the area, in hopes that people (including local politicians) will start referencing my neighborhood correctly.
An excerpt of James G. Banks' book, "The Unintended Consequences: Family and Community, the Victims of Isolated Poverty," sheds some light on the beginnings of my neighborhood and how the name came about:
The Commission of Refugees, Freedman, and Abandoned Land was established on 4 March 1865. After the assasination of President Abraham Lincoln, General O.O. Howard was named commissioner of the agency, which came to be informally called The Freedman's Bureau. In 1867 General Howard created a Board of Directos for the Bureau, which included Senator S.C. Pomeroy of Kansas and John Elvans, a local businessman. Today, streets in Barry Farm bear the names of these two board members. The newly appointed board was authorized to use fifty-two thousand dollars from an educational fund available to the Bureau to acquire land to sell, lease, or rent to free blacks. The authorization included instructions that profits from the sale would be used to provide support for institutions of higher learning established for blacks, including Howard University. The three hundred and seventy-five acres was purchased from the heirs of James D. Barry in 1867 by the Freedman's Bureau. . . .
Thus creating, one of the four "loosely divided subdivisions of Anacostia," Barry Farm.
I'll stop just short of pretending to be a historian when it comes to the origins of my neighborhood, and just say this: my neighborhood is called Barry Farm, not the Farms, not the projects, not the hood, and most certainly not Barry Farms. And while we're on the topic, my neighborhood boundary extends beyond subsidized housing people, but if you are referencing these homes specifically, please note that they are actually called Barry Farm Dwellings.
And if you would prefer to not hear me rant about this subject again, recognize that the name of this blog is Barry Farm (Re)Mixed.
