PHILADELPHIA (KYW Newsradio) — Though gun violence has drawn a lot of attention to Southwest Philadelphia recently, that should not be what defines her neighborhood, says Phyllis Walker.
"Unfortunately, we get caught in the crossfire. Then it looks like the community isn't doing anything," said Walker, who has retired from a job with the city. "If you tell us and show us that we're going to be safe, then we are going to help you do something."
She says there's much more to the picture. Her neighborhood, where she has lived on South Vodges Street for more than 40 years, is far from the violent and hopelessness place it is made out to be.
In fact, she says, her neighbors act more like family. Everyone knows everyone on the block.
"We are a family in these communities. We know each other's names. We know Miss Doris, we know Miss Katherine, we know Barbara. We know their needs," she said.
For decades, Walker and her "family" have been working together to improve the neighborhood. She says the tight-knit community has been engaged in the process, from block cleanups to community watch programs.
Phyllis Walker looks through photographs of a neighborhood cleanup event.Antionette Lee/KYW Newsradio
"And we walked those streets, late at night, with our jackets. We had a command, a walkie-talkie. That one person commanded safety, while the rest of us walked the streets and patrolled the streets. That's what we did," Walker said, remembering.
She even testified to the needs of her neighbors -- 20 years ago. In front of a committee of Philadelphia police and District Attorney Lynne Abraham, she spoke out about crime and begged for resources.
An Inquirer clipping she has kept from that time, "Southwest Phila. residents fighting violence and blight," now yellowed and weathered with age, illustrates a situation eerily similar to that of present day.
About 20 years ago, the Philadelphia Inquirer covered neighborhood improvement work led by Phyllis Walker.Antionette Lee/KYW Newsradio
Case in point, when she took the mic at a recent "protect our kids" community meeting hosted by local and state representatives, she reiterated the argument she made 20 years ago: Her neighbors should not have to beg for the resources they are entitled to.
"I want the people in Kingsessing to know that we are great people. We are hard-working people, and we are holding it down. And we are doing it better than most," Walker said boldly.
She recalled a time when she helped arrange a face-to-face meeting with people who were dealing drugs on the corners.
"I said, 'Listen, we have to coexist in this community. I can't stop you from selling your drugs, but I can ask you to at least let us live in decency and in peace. You know who we are in this neighborhood. You know where we live. You know each of us. But when you see us, move to another place. Prosper elsewhere, but let us live in peace,'" she said.
"And they did. They began to work with us to do clean-ups. They would come out and get their little brooms and shovels just like we were doing."
Walker has used her knowledge, leadership and fervent spirit to educate her neighbors and help build bridges between them and local government.
"I've been called a leader. I've been called everything. But actually, I'm just a homeowner that cares," she said. "The community [can] only have a relationship with who they can see. So if I can't see you, then I don't know you exist. And if I don't know you exist, I can't receive the gifts you have for me."
An interaction with a group of young children stands out in her memory.
"I'm trying to teach them, you know, certain things about community activism, because I have so much wisdom that I can give [them]," she said.
"'And you can take that, and you can build upon it. We just have a small foundation now. But can you imagine, as years go on, and we keep putting stones on that,'" she remembered telling them.
Over the decades, Walker has become a matriarchal figure in her community. She remembers a young man who grew up in the neighborhood once said something to her that affirmed all of her work and gave her the strength to continue.
"He said, 'But the truth of the matter is, you were probably the only mother that any of us ever knew.' That right there gave me the will to say I can go forward. People are coming to me now saying thank you. That means something to me," she said.
She had hoped to pass the baton of community activism on to someone else after her retirement, but the fight is in her blood. And she says the love she has for her neighbors keeps her going.
