Abstract

This ethnographic account of a night spent in an African-American heroin shooting gallery in East Harlem, present the details of how heroin, cocaine and crack are bought, injected, enjoyed and suffered on New York City's most dangerous streets. Although the narrative spans only one ten-hour session, it builds upon the author's many years of participant-observation research among drug dealers and addicts. The observations and conversations evoke the roller coaster agonies and ecstasies of heroin and cocaine addiction. They also highlight the structural contradictions and the human cost - in the form of immediate personal pain and fear - of US inner-city apartheid. By situating himself as a white researcher violating apartheid and challenging the taboos around class and sobriety, the author documents the polarization of street culture in the criminalized economy. The vacuum created by the breakdown of both the public and private sectors in inner-city communities has been filled by a dynamic underground drug economy. This expanding illegal industry, along with the state-sanctioned `war on drugs', has spawned an oppositional street culture of resistance that contradictorily is a central force in the community's devastation. While the drug addicts and dealers in this account are clearly victims, they are also the immediate agents for their neighborhood's destruction, and for their own violent suffering. At the same time, they remain `all-American' in their life view, internalizing the causes for their poverty and isolation. They direct their violence primarily against one another and against themselves. The desperation of the addicts is communicated in the minute details of how they inject themselves with potentially HIV-contaminated syringes. Simultaneously, however, the narrative emphasizes their professional skill at surviving on the street. It documents their extensive cultural capital in deploying interpersonal violence and economic deception, as well as their complex definitions of hierarchy and dignity. Ultimately, we are confronted by the banality of the painful contortions that are inherent in human quests for respect and meaning - if not ecstasy - in settings of extreme social misery.