How living in the city changed me

I grew up in one of the most distant suburbs of Reno, NV: which had already coined itself the “biggest little city”. Realistically speaking, I had no experience with urban life outside of occasional trips to California and other metropolitan areas for the first 18 years of my life.

I was pretty happy about that. Being in a mountainous dessert, I also quite liked always being surrounded by hills and peaks covered in shrubbery and pine trees. I always felt like I could pinpoint my place in the world, like the whole sky was there to ease any weight on my mind. It was open, in a liberating way I couldn’t recognize until I lost it.

You see, I now live in the middle of Market Street on the outskirts of San Francisco’s downtown skyscrapers. Well, the buildings actually scraping the sky are dwindling by the time you reach my residence — which is the disturbing part really. At first, I felt cramped. And overwhelmed by the sudden shift from driving everywhere to walking as much as I could and mastering the necessary lines of public transit. And distressed by all of the smells.

But, once I got settled in, I started noticing smaller things, about how life was different in the city.

Obviously, the presence of the homeless had been immediately evident. This had been somewhat expected, even if my imagination didn’t do reality justice (it never does). I had a typical reaction — uncomfortably avoiding confrontation. It wasn’t like I hadn’t ever seen someone living on the street before; I’d just never seen so many. It made me sad, and frustrated at the inconvenience to myself.

But, then I started to pay more attention to how other people regarded them, and how they regarded one another. And it baffled me. First, they were presumed to be dangerous. Cops often loitered in the same places they tended to crowd around. There’s even a Burger King which plays loud classical music, rumored to be under the impression that this encourages one to be less aggressive.

Yet, they were undeniably banding together. They had friendships, and felt loyalty to certain fellow street-dwellers. This was hardly a despicable quality, yet the gathering places were where they faced the most scrutiny. This upset me, as they were treated as lesser than any other human passing by simple because they lacked consistent shelter. I maintained my caution around them, but despised the stereotypes it helped perpetuate.

Then, I picked up on some of the habits that undoubtedly worsened their situation while also being a reasonable means of coping. Many of them ordered milkshakes at fast food places. It makes sense: it’s one of the cheaper items on the menu, comes in a convenient container, and is filling. But, it’s also undoubtedly one of the least nutritionally beneficial options on the menu. This lack of nutrition worsens one’s health, and the sweetness is also likely to become addictive — another false comfort.

And, not only were they struggling to eat, they were also lacking the most basic human commodity of a bathroom. Almost all establishments had signage indicating “No Public Restrooms”, if they had them at all. Then, I started noticing some pit-stops along the streets, only to discover that there was a charge for their use, and often long lines since they were so few.

They were being explicitly dehumanized, begging just to be able to perform natural bodily processes somewhere other than the gutter.

And most of the population couldn’t be bothered by it.

Being surrounded by such a large population makes it so much easier to understand the power of a mob mentality, and the danger of such strong social norms.

But, I also saw the potentially positive power of being able to gather large groups of people quickly, and being able to connect with enough of the right people. The Dakota Access Pipeline protests took over the block outside my building, loudly and civilly demanding that the engineering firm across the street refuse to continue the project. They were the epitome of a peaceful protest, and had beautiful banners that showed the passion for this cause had extended long before this day. A mass of people had come together to show empathy for those thousands of miles away and demand change.

Cities enable the best and worst to come out in people.

So, as a newfound city girl I have constantly had to question which side I’m being pushed in — and if I ought to do anything to change it. It has made me aware of how my actions contribute to much larger phenomena. And I’m still in the process of figuring out how to make the right choices with those actions every day.

I try not to fear the people I pass loitering on the sidewalk, the ones looking rundown and obviously hoarding all of their possessions nearby. But, I still find myself putting my own preservation above being overtly friendly.

I pay my bus fare, even knowing the ease with which many obtain a free ride.

I respond when someone makes casual, non-threatening, conversation — on the street or in Starbucks I treat them just the same.

I volunteer at an organization I believe is doing important work.

I go to intellectually engaging public events.

I buy produce at the Farmer’s market.

I frequent local cafes.

I ask myself if I’m working on autopilot or making a conscious, well-reasoned decision, as often as I can.

The city took me out of my natural habitat, and I am using it to reshape myself in the best way possible.