Jackson Square

I’m going to stick up for Jackson here, after reading Quinn’s review. Maybe he’s right — that I’ve never had a problem because I’m a «six foot tall, straight, white dude» — but I’m not sure that’s the case.
I do not dress or look tough in any way whatsoever (and trust me, I stick out in Jackson), but I’ve never had a single problem in this neighborhood. I walk past the projects twice a day wearing dorky dress clothes, and I’ve regularly gotten off the Orange Line, alone, late at night as well — and I’ve never been made to feel uncomfortable or unsafe.
Yes, the neighborhood has some quirks, but not every place in the city can be as sterile as Brookline or Beacon Hill. This is the JP that was here before you decided that it was a hip place to live. Have some respect.

I know people are like, «Oh, Jackson Square isn’t that bad.» And to them, I’m sure it’s not. Because they’re 6 foot tall straight white dudes who no one messes with or catcalls. So good for them, they can break the Jackson Square barrier and live there happily, ignoring their girlfriends’ complaints about what they go through when they come to visit, and riding their bike to Mass Art every day via the bike path that goes through the hood. Which is the one nice part of Jackson.
You know how JP used to be known as a sketchy part of Boston, to be avoided if possible? Well, Jackson Square has decided to carry that tradition on, despite the progress JP has made toward becoming a safe and friendly place to live. It’s unsafe for queers, the buildings are gross and scary. Good for them for resisting gentrification, I guess. The rent is pretty cheap. And hey, you can cross the street in the middle of traffic, everyone else does. But here’s an anecdote to give you an idea of what kinda place it is.
I work with a 21-​year-​old Dominican girl from the Bronx. She went to get her hair done at a place in Jackson, but had such a scary experience walking the couple of blocks from the train to the salon that she ended up skipping the appointment and going home the next week to get her hair done back home. In the Bronx. And this girl is no slouch, she’s a smart, sassy, quick-​witted person who could easily tell a gross dude to step off. But the guys in Jackson take it too far. They make it scary.
Once you hit the Hyde Square rotary, you’re ok, but Jackson is an embarrassment to me as a JP resident.