Recently, two men unloaded a van filled with construction debris directly behind my house in Mt. Airy, on my neighbor’s property. Because I had been cleaning out a vacant apartment unit in my building, my neighbor was convinced I was the culprit, and called the number on the “For Rent” sign in my yard to chew me out. 

 “There are trash cans on every corner!” he shouted. While my neighbor chastised me for bringing down the neighborhood with my alleged dumping, he mentioned the somewhat recently added Big Belly trash cans lining the nearby commercial corridors as a kind of proof that dumping didn't belong on our streets. It was clear that he'd rejected Philadelphia’s long-time “Filthadelphia” label, and the visible changes he’d seen gave him reason to think that our “middle neighborhood” was leaning towards progress, not decline. 

 His angry call caught me off guard, but I could tell it masked a belief in our community. It also reminded me that cleaning up our city is more than just a “quality of life” issue, as many call it. It’s about hope.

 In recent years, illegal dumping and trash have been a growing concern in my neighborhood, but I’ve also seen efforts to combat the problem. I can’t help but notice the Taking Care of Business workers — part of a city program that funds non-profits to clean commercial areas — cleaning Ogontz Avenue in their bright yellow sweatshirts, and the impossibly trashless sidewalks they leave behind. 

 I was used to seeing this type of program in wealthier and whiter neighborhoods, but my section of Mt. Airy is mostly middle/working class Black families. We don't have the million dollar houses of Chestnut Hill, the tourist appeal of Center City, or major universities like University City. 

Still, seeing the simple investment in cleaning affirmed the inherent dignity of my community, and sent an important message: This neighborhood, and its residents, have value. When clean streets become attainable, maybe things like quality schools, access to family sustaining jobs, and less violence, will begin to feel attainable, too. 

There are no easy wins, but seeing progress across the city on basic issues like trash removal can rebuild our capacity to hope for (and take action toward) bigger change.

I do realize though, that the simple idea of even moderately clean streets can be hard to imagine in some parts of the city.   

Recently, a woman saw me and a couple of neighbors sweeping the street, and told us: “I don’t know why y'all even bother, because the trash is just gonna come right back.” She lived in East Germantown, and had given up hoping that things would get better for her community. I know how she feels, because I too had given up on some neighborhoods, if only subconsciously. Every time I saw piles of illegally dumped trash in my neighborhood, I would worry that my cherished corner of the city was in danger of becoming one of those infamous areas synonymous with blight. I was embracing a false sense of separateness — my neighborhood is not like those neighborhoods  —  that lay bare the uncomfortable truth that perhaps I’d stopped believing in some areas. Maybe, the hope I had for my own neighborhood didn’t extend to every corner of my city.   

But with Mayor Cherelle L. Parker’s vision of “One Philly – a city united,” and her recent budget proposal that allocates $246 million over five years to make the city “cleaner and greener” by tackling illegal dumping and other problems, I’m encouraged to expand that hope. 

And while the large-scale effort to clean up this city is important, I believe there are ways we can each contribute on a smaller scale, to help shift attitudes and behaviors around trash. I don’t recommend aggressively confronting a neighbor, but our actions can be a reflection of the hopes we have for where we live. Consider keeping a trash bag and trash grabber in your car, and next time you see someone sweeping up, hop out and help them. Or if you’re cleaning up your block, take a few extra minutes and clean up a bit on the next block, too. It’ll feel a little uncomfortable at first, but it’ll get easier. Because hope makes you bold.

We all deserve a clean city. With a governmental commitment — combined with the small but meaningful efforts of thousands of citizens who reject the moniker “Filthadelphia” — I’m convinced that we’ll not only have a city with a lot less trash, but one with a whole lot more hope.