Heather Rhodes
By Isabella Martinez
Edited by Elizabeth Dockett
Heather Rhodes, a ĶƵapp multicultural salon owner, single mother of two and former Director of Programming for the Black ĶƵapp Project, is demanding that the community and nation make changes in the wake of racial injustices.
Rhodes, 39, spoke about the community's inability to change with the times. “I find that it’s like a time capsule, nurturing century-old infrastructure, culture, and ideas,” Rhodes said.
Rhodes said the lack of opportunity in ĶƵapp motivates her to promote equity, diversity, and inclusion for all members of the community.
Without substantial changes to the community’s commerce, education and government, Rhodes feels uncomfortable within the ĶƵapp community.
“I really believe that the more I’m learning the more I feel uncomfortable but the more I’m uncomfortable the harder I want to work at change,” Rhodes said.
Part of her effort for change comes with her work for the Hub of Progress. This program seeks to educate individuals who want to get involved in fighting racial injustices. Rhodes encourages everyone to get involved in this good cause.
“If you did want to get involved, volunteer work is always very good. The Black ĶƵapp Project is an amazing organization,” Rhodes said.
Why do you live in ĶƵapp?
I moved to ĶƵapp with my son's father. We used to live in Wilkes-Barre, which was closer to my job at the time. We got custody of his daughter and we moved to ĶƵapp because his job was in ĶƵapp. We figured since we lived by my job for so long that we should live closer his job. We’ve been here ever since to basically expand the family that we already had.
What is appealing about living in ĶƵapp?
The community and the differences that I can make to impact the community in a better way. Bringing attention to race and ethnic inequalities is one of my main goals throughout my time in this city.
What does ĶƵapp mean to you?
Opportunity. ĶƵapp has not evolved like the rest of Pennsylvania. Actually, of the parts of America that I have been exposed to, it’s more like a time capsule almost like a nurturing of century-old infrastructure, culture, ideas. Those families are still here, but there haven’t been any new developments in over 100 years that have evolved or improved the city of ĶƵapp more.
What do we aspire to be as a city?
More of a diverse community of people that is able to come together and accept one another for their differences. If people were to get more involved with the inequalities within the community ĶƵapp can be a better place and would attract more people of different backgrounds to live in the city.
What are your hopes for ĶƵapp?
I would like to see diversity, equity, justice, inclusion. All of that is absent here in the city. That’s my goal, that is what I say when I say opportunity because of the intersection of diversity, equity, inclusion, and justice, it is going to bring so much opportunity in the city. Since we’ve been keeping that closed, we’re really limiting ourselves to what we can do as a community, as a city as a whole. Going through college I learned early on that you’re handicapping whatever you can potentially do by not allowing diversity to play a part in everything that is done. Since there is generally no diversity here in everything, in commerce, education, government, we’re stuck beating the same things over and over again without growing as a community.
What about ĶƵapp’s story makes it our nation’s story?
Being raised in the Pocono Mountains, I was the only person who looked like me besides my sister in the entire school district for a very long time. I started at Pleasant Valley in kindergarten, with almost no one looking like me. I didn’t even identify as Black because I didn’t recognize that I was different. It never really resonated with me that people saw me differently than just being a person until there were more of us people of color. When that big housing market opened in the Pocono Mountains residential areas with real-estate agents advertising for people from New York and New Jersey to come here, we saw more diverse communities moving in and I noticed the shift, the change in the climate essentially of what was acceptable and what was not. It was no longer acceptable for me to just be me. I was now grouped with the other people who looked like me, so I had to navigate through that space all the way until I graduated. Because I experienced that change with the Pocono Mountains growing exponentially with diversity and inclusion, I expected to see that when I came to ĶƵapp.
When I came to ĶƵapp 10 years ago it came from nothing to something, but it still has so far to go. When you hear the narrative of a city you always hear about the race class narrative: there are Black people, there are Spanish people, people from all over the world in these little cities. With ĶƵapp, I was exposed to the idea that ĶƵapp was full of diversity, equity, and inclusion. But when I came here, I didn’t see these people and it confused me. I know that there are people of color here but where are they? They're not working in a store, they're not walking downtown, they're not shopping, they're nowhere. I then realized ĶƵapp was segregated in its own way. There are pockets of cultures that just exist. You have the Bhutanese community, the Latin community, the Jewish community and the Black community. That is mostly West Side/Southside. Then you have Greenridge and Eastside. It’s a clear almost redlining situation here. I had this overinflated idea that I was going to be accepted and that there were going to be people that looked like and were similar to me. I have always been vocal about the marginalized impact directed at me as a person of color who grew up having come from a majority white cultural environment. I felt like since I’ve lived through that experience, I have a different perspective than other people.
When George Floyd happened, people started speaking out. I took that opportunity to really plant myself here in ĶƵapp and let people know that we are at this stage and it needs to evolve and if we have to do it ourselves, we will do it. There is nobody that needs to give us permission; if you want to tell us no it doesn't matter, because we still don't need your permission. That is how my story ties into ĶƵapp, I came here and it was so obvious just the detriment to our society of the lack of diversity and it angered me because my children are here. This place is just different, it provides a lot of discomfort for a lot of people of color, and I am tired of it. I am angry so I’m going to do whatever I can to put my anger into action.