I grew up on the Northside of Minneapolis, a general mix of working-class households of varying ethnic backgrounds.
As I went out into the world, one of the first things I learned was not to tell people where I was from. It could get a little testy if you did, there would always be a cutting remark or a slur, and then you had to either: shut up and take it, leave, or fight.
At a friend's bonfire last night, I was talking to his wife, who I knew only slightly. She had been talking about her background, and the struggles she had had growing up. At one point, I stopped her. "Northside, right?" I saw that northside ethos flash in her eyes, a chippyness that you had to have to survive. We understood each other perfectly in that moment.
The Northside has changed, even a wilder mix of peoples and cultures, still some of the same problems, still good things happening in spite of them. If the Northside didn't break you, it made you stronger.