Filmmaker Stefanie Joshua

“Bushwick Homecomings,” Stefanie Joshua’s film about life in the post-fire, drug-infested Bushwick of the ’80s and ’90s, is screening on November 9, at the African American Women in Cinema Film Festival in Manhattan.

I spoke with Stefanie about her film, which tells the story of Bushwick through five men she knew while growing up. Cinematically, the documentary is very simple – Stefanie had no formal film training when she decided to create it. But both the subjects and subject matter of the film are highly compelling, to say the least.

Triggered by the senseless murder of a childhood friend, Stefanie was driven to explore why, exactly, the men she grew up with and around so readily welcomed a life of drugs, guns and crime. She wrote a thesis on the topic, then decided to use the footage from her research for a documentary. The candid nature of the film’s interviewees exposes a part of Bushwick’s past that is often hidden from the public, the consequences of which still resonate today.

“Bushwick Homecomings” has been selected by ten festivals across the country to date, and won “Best Indie Documentary” at the Motor City International Film Festival in Detroit this year.

Read the full version of this article at The Brooklyn Ink.

Welcome Molly, a student at Columbia Journalism, to the blog. She’ll be posting original stories she digs up on her new beat: Bushwick. They’ll be newsier than we’re used to here. — Jeremy

Outside her McKibbin Street loft in Bushwick last Saturday, Hester Sunshine was selling her life away.

“Buy my crap – I need to go to London,” the tall, tattooed brunette urged curious passers-by as they eyed piles of vintage clothing and 1980s nostalgia.

Sunshine, an aspiring accessories designer and business owner, departs for London in three weeks to begin fashion school, and in true entrepreneurial spirit, she set up shop on a trendy strip in Bushwick. “I want to leave with a single suitcase,” she explained, behind rhinestone-studded aviators. “And I have amazing stuff. Just because I’m sick of it doesn’t mean someone else won’t want it.”

Sunshine is correct. This up-and-coming neighborhood in northeast Brooklyn is attracting a post-college hipster crowd, possibly a spillover from nearby Williamsburg, but definitely the type to find Sunshine’s stuff funky, not junky. Edgy twenty-somethings gushed over the goods, which included a working Atari set, colorful roller skates, and a Bollywood-themed clock.

Most items cost just a few dollars, except for furniture, as Sunshine wanted to liquidate fast and close before dark. Her goal of $400 was, judging by the wad of cash tucked into her electric blue leggings, entirely probable – especially considering her unique way of up-charging. “That’s ten dollars because it’s ridiculously amazing,” she informed a teenage girl, referring to the Bollywood clock. A light-up Ballantine Ale sign was also a justifiable ten bucks, “because it works.”

Sunshine is not all business, though. She had charitable moments as well. When two young boys on bicycles discovered a messy mound of old video game controllers, she told them they could each have one if they untangled all the cords. Noting the heat, she also threw in two dollars “for bottled water.”

The boys got to work and in no time, Sunshine’s solo project turned into a community gathering of sorts. Items were placed on hold while buyers ran to get cash, people strolled back and forth between the street sale and a nearby coffee shop, and Sunshine connected with neighbors over her belongings, caring more about making people happy than making money. She gave away a free doll head to a joyful recipient: “I have a bunch of dismembered baby dolls and I really think this will fit,” the girl said.

It saddened Sunshine to see some things go, like a pair of fake denim ski pants, but the desire to get rid of her baggage (quite literally) and start over was much more important. “I had a really intense year at my loft,” she said. “I’m very ready to leave.”

Plus, after five years of living in Bushwick, she knows the neighborhood and enjoyed selling her things to similar people. “I’m happy to see everything go” to them, she declared. Pausing to tie a blue printed scarf around her perfectly messy hair, Sunshine, ever the fashionista, added that the woman who bought the ski pants “looked adorable in them, so it was okay. She looked hot, and that’s the whole point.”