Buford Highway: Atlanta’s Ethnic Epicenter
writer Erin White photographer Amie Brink
I moved to Atlanta from California in 2007 and immediately hated it. The trees were lush and the air was thick with humidity; it annoyed me greatly. There was no beach for me to worship Mother Earth. There were no taco shops established by Mexican immigrants serving authentic street tacos 15 miles from the MexicanAmerican border. There was no Little Italy, no Chinatown. In place of cultural diversity stood Rebel flags waving proudly in disillusion. Mega-churches looming over every pre-planned, suburban community. I am not particularly fond of either. To me, the South was an area in the country committed to conserving the old ideals of when the South was at its peak — before the Civil War — and disinterested in expanding in a cultural sense. There was not only a lack of culture, but there was a lack of color. The people I encountered were either white or black — and was something I really wasn’t all that used to at all. I observed the South’s most progressive city, and searched for the cultural diversity of my hometown. Exploring the neighborhoods of Atlanta became a past time and I quickly familiarized myself with the area. I went to Little Five Points and was perplexed by its small size and charmed by the community 42
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vibe and characters. I’d walk down Flat Shoals Avenue in East Atlanta when I felt like a hipster. This is typically accompanied by fried green tomatoes at Flatiron, of course. These neighborhoods are some of Atlanta’s most treasured. Atlanta is what I like to call a small-big city. It’s technically a major city, with headquarters for some of the nations most important companies like The Home Depot, Turner Broadcasting, Delta Airlines and The Coca-Cola Company; just to name a few. The city, no matter how important, lacks satisfactory public transportation and not so overwhelming night life. You can only go to Opera so many times.