Before moving to Spanish Harlem, I thought the word “Harlem” equated to the word “ghetto.”

Hood, slums, projects, drive-by zone, and land of the hard knocks … whatever you want to call it. I thought it.

That was before I got off the 6 train at 116^th Street on a hotter-than-normal May day two years ago – my heart racing as I observed the fact that a.) I was the only white girl around and b.) the old men on the corner playing chess were probably going to cat call me as I walked by toward a sublet apartment at 118^th Street, where I would end up living for two months before making the full leap and signing a lease with a friend in a building at 117^th Street and Lexington Avenue.

I moved to Spanish Harlem three weeks after graduating from Temple University. I thought my stay in SpaHa would only be temporary, and that within a few weeks I’d be like every other white girl newbie to Manhattan and move to “Brooklyn” where kids of my “kind” lived and played.

But as I started hanging out in SpaHa and learned the tricks and embraced the turns of the neighborhood, I fell in love. I fell in love with the fact that I lived in an area free of gentrification and could support the local ma-and-pa culture and economy; that I contradicted people’s first impression expectations of Brooklyn residency; and that I could get anything I wanted for at least 30 percent less than you’d find it sold for below 100^th Street.

And of course, I learned how to handle the nuances of living as a minority while beginning to understand that it is not cultural difference that separates us from one another, it is openness to difference that does.

Assimilation is not about finding a neighborhood where you can “belong.” It is about finding a neighborhood where you can peacefully co-exist with its natural qualities and opportunities. In my opinion, “belonging” is boring.

I didn’t belong in Spanish Harlem – and I still don’t. That’s why living there is not boring, it’s exciting.

Allow me to explain with three examples of why I love SpaHa, and how it loves me back.

CONTRADICTION #1:

Instead of crossing the street to avoid walking by male “groups,” –  as my mother would have wanted me to do –  I smile and greet them with a “hello.”

Sure, at first, they replied back with the usual “hey mamacita” or “hey there cutie, can I get yer number?” Whatever. They’re just saying those things – what are they going to do, come chasing me down the street?

So I replied. “Nah, no thanks!” “Sorry!” “Aw, thank you, but no thanks!”

And eventually, the cat calls stopped. Now, I just get “hey Cover Girl” from a handful of the locals. Yes, it’s true – I have grown men on the street calling me Cover Girl. And we all laugh about it, while also having the casual “how’s the weather today” chats. I even befriended a regular stoop resident, and after a few conversations realized he grew up in North Philadelphia near where I attended college. Now he calls me “baby” and we say hello every morning. I consider him my Spanish Harlem grandfather.

Think anyone’s going to mess with me now?

CONTRADICTION #2:

Instead of shopping at the closest grocery store, I shop at the Pathmark 7 streets away at 125^th Street.

Sure, I have the occasional run-in with religious evangelists, the homeless, and men offering me “cab rides” home to relieve me of carrying my groceries. But that’s all OK, and it’s all worth it. First, shopping at 125^th Street makes my shopping experience more interesting – I’m grateful for my blessings, mindful of how spirituality brings peace, and motivated to exercise the 7 blocks with three bags of groceries in tow.

But more importantly, by choosing the hard route to food supply, I save serious dough. When comparing prices between the Pathmark – if you’re not familiar, the “ghetto” grocery store of many urban areas – I find that I’m actually paying half the price for some items over the prices found at my block’s Associated grocery.

Deals for dollars that are totally worth the holler.

CONTRADICTION #3:

Instead of moving to Brooklyn to have more space for my company, Sammy Davis Vintage (http://www.sammydvintage.com), I chose to open an affordable showroom space at Manhattan Mini Storage at 110^th Street & 1^st Avenue.

I could (and would) have cut my lease to find more space for my vintage collection by moving to a different borough. But then I found Manhattan Mini Storage and its many conveniences: Low rent, 24 hour access, a parking lot, clean bathrooms and friendly employees. I now offer private sales and showcases of my women’s vintage clothing collection once or twice a week. Additionally, I use the space for work or to just get away from the confines of my small (but cozy) 4^th story walk-up apartment.

If I’d found space in Brooklyn or Queens, I wouldn’t have been able to tap into the Manhattan-working young professional market that my brand appeals to. They’d have to go to Brooklyn to experience Sammy Davis Vintage.

And who wants to have to do that when you have access to the wonders of Spanish Harlem, anyway?

Sammy Davis is the curator and personality behind Sammy Davis Vintage, which works to make vintage fashion accessible to the contemporary female. She’s lived in Spanish Harlem since June 2008. You can find her talking more about her love for SpaHa, vintage fashion, running and the word “holler” on Facebook or on Twitter.