The Gentrification of Oneself
Bernardo da Costa Soares
September 6, 2022
Chicago is a city of many mysteries. A wonderland of question marks. The itch behind your head you can’t quite scratch. As you walk around the windy city, Zephyrus may whisper in your ears riddles for you to decipher, and with each step you take, a new part of the puzzle may be found.
My days walking Chicago often started with the train — or the ‘L’ as I found myself calling it to seem more like the locals. The crowded cars hid a multitude of stories yet untold. Behind each and every person lay a whole new world and a myriad of questions. A blind man asking for money: what might he have heard over his years wandering the CTA? A nurse on her way to work: did she treat herself as well as she cared for others? A skilled violinist: how did his passion arise? The same way I began questioning their experiences, I couldn’t help but to question mine as well.
The transition to college life is a hard, terrifying one, not just for me, but for every single student. Most of us are in a completely new environment, free from whatever might have held us back in the past four years. College is a fresh start, a new life, per se, and we are free to be whomever we want. However, endless possibilities may become an issue when, in fact, you have no idea who you want to be.
As I stepped out of the train, each day I was greeted with new airs. A crisp Gold Coast, embraced by Lake Michigan and its cyan waters, lined with waltzing trees, packed every inch with ornamented houses. A young Old Town crowded with eccentric restaurants and flirty residents. A hip Wicker Park, lost between vintage stores and trendy pizzerias. I made sure to absorb every color, smell, and feeling, and, yet, something seemed missing.
A few miles forward and Seward Park was the place to rest. Although seemingly more pedestrian at first glance, the Cabrini-Green region — as it is known by the locals — flourished with history. Marked by gentrification, the neighborhood that once housed a vibrant community, today stood still and dull, surrounded by the same brick buildings that could be seen in any major American city. The government tried to turn Seward Park into something it was not, and, in the process, displaced its residents from their homes.
Gentrification in Chicago is not exclusive to this area. It is spreading to every corner of the city, but Chicagoans resist. As you further explore, you may find Humboldt Park — a lively Puerto Rican neighborhood — or Pilsen — a colorful Mexican community. These two areas also suffer from the threat that is gentrification, but they have developed their own methods to fight it: tradition and art. Walking around both these neighborhoods will awaken your senses like never before. From the smells of a Puerto Rican homecooked meal to the mesmerizing Mexican street art, no tree-lined street in Gold Coast could ever compare to the thrills of exploring this part of Chicago. Communities often overlooked by the City’s administration and regarded as “bad” or “dangerous” by most tourist guides, felt more dynamic, more authentic, more human than any other part of Chicago.
Walking the windy city is an eye-opening experience. With every footstep, I slowly realized that, in some ways, I am too being haunted by gentrification. Beginning anew does not mean leaving behind who you are, and I often feel like I am trying to be someone else entirely different than me, the actual me. And, in this process, I gradually displace myself and become isolated within my own being. I now realize that change has to be comprehensive. Along the streets of Chicago, I intend to understand myself, my real self, rather than discard who I am now. I will not be a product of gentrification.
