A few months ago, I packed up two bright orange, hard-shell suitcases and relocated to one of the most intimidating cities in the country, New York City. This move came about 2 months after I had to ask myself a simple question: If not now, when?
Before this move, I lived in Italy for about five months. On a whole different continent! How hard could this be? But as soon as I stepped out of that Lyft in front of my Brooklyn apartment, I knew that this was going to be something way different.
It’s crazy that Michigan, where I’m from, is not that far from New York City on the map in proximity. But honestly, from an early age, I understood this city to be a completely different world. Something very foreign and incomparable to anything in Flint. Fortunately, I knew that this “new world” was out there, within reach, and that I would experience it all one day.
Coming from a small city, the only thing I knew about life in New York City was what was shown on TV. If you are, like I once did, basing everything off Law and Order SVU or New Jack City, you would be terrified. On the other hand, I also believed in the communal feeling that’s shown in Do The Right Thing, the music and magic as seen in The Wiz, and the intriguing fashion and excitement as shown in Sex in The City.
I have always been somewhat drawn in by this city. I desperately wanted to be a part of it someday; whatever “it” was. I wanted to be where it all seemed to happen. This was a place that was supposedly filled with fast walking and faster-talking people like me. So, evidently, I would either hate it or fit in perfectly.
Fast forward to January, 9th, 2019, the first-day setting foot on the streets of my new temporary “home”. I was culture-shocked, to say the least. Even though I was coming from what seems like right up the street, I was as much of an outsider as Eddie Murphy’s character was in Coming to America. I didn’t know what to expect for the rest of the semester but one thing I knew for sure was that this was the grand opening to a new beginning.
Everything felt like a movie. It felt like I was just dropped in the middle of this big city, unexpectedly, and told to fend for myself. I promise you neither my mind NOR my bank account was ready. But, hey, I was here. Where I “desperately” wanted to be, New York City. Besides, I only had 4 months, there was no time to be wasted.
So the first few days….First off, the movies show the grime and dirtiness of the city but I promise I don’t feel like they did it justice. And, I had not even made it into Midtown Manhattan yet.
Let me not forget to mention how long it took me to get to Manhattan. I waited for what felt like hours for a delayed train only to get on and people are taking up twice their size in seat space, sneezing with their mouth not covered and plenty of other things I do not want to even think back to. This was not how my much anticipated first subway ride as a settled-in, temporary New York Resident was supposed to be.
Finally, I get off the subway just to run into the noisiness of sirens, horns and whatever else seems to unconsciously reverberate through your ears in the background. Seriously, why was the silence so loud here? Also, why are these people bumping into me? There seems to be no rhythm in the way Manhattanites walk. Okay, so there are people who are walking so fast that they are riding you. Then, once you finally get on that pace with them here goes the tourist walking as slow as ever in awe of sites that are unexciting because you will see them every day on your normal commute. I am confused. Needless to say, that first week was rough.
It sounds crazy, but It did not take long for me to get used to the city. I wasted NO time planning to go to every event that a 20 year old girl like me could get into. Soon enough, I caught myself in rooms and talking to people that I had long admired ( S/O to Mrs.Julee Wilson and Dapper Dan). Talk about a city full of opportunities… One day I woke up with a goal to binge watch Queer Eyes, the next thing you know 3 hours later, I am assistant styling for Ari Lenox’s Shea Butter Baby album cover stylist.
I slowly but surely began to solidify sure feelings for this city . But these were the type of feelings that could only be described through unconscious actions and random words written down in my journal. When people would ask “ How are you liking New York?” I would always reply something like, shrug** I am liking it more than I should. The truth is, as excited as I was to get to this city, I did not want to love it. I just didn’t. I saw myself as being on a quick little hiatus to this city to get the experience, then post-grad I could hop my “country” self to the south somewhere to live in a big brown house with tall trees and a YARD ( y’all know that is not a picture painted of NYC).
“I slowly but surely began to solidify sure feelings for this city . But these were the type of feelings that could only be described through unconscious actions and random words written down in my journal”.
This couldn’t be the city I fell in love with. Half of the population looks tired and upset all of the time. That is not me. Too many people spend a lot of their time alone. I don’t thrive in that environment. There are too many people who don’t stop and smell the roses EVER.That is exhausting and I refuse to grow up to be that person.
But I, unfortunately ( or fortunately, I still haven’t decided) couldn’t help but wake up and smile because of all of the things, bad and good, that New York had to offer. Like the subway system…
Soon, the Subway system and I began to have this love-hate relationship. Those hour commutes ( 53 minutes on a GOOD day) from Liberty of the C/A train to Manhattan, altered my perspective more than I expected. As triflin’ as the subway is, I began to almost look forward to these moments. I found gratitude in the opportunity I was granted to be “alone”. In a cart full of people, I was left to read my neglected pile of books, listen to a full podcast episode, the latest album to drop, or even just people watch.
C train–you showed me, little black and brown boys, free, and laughing without any care in the world. Young black girls learning themselves, the world, and their place in it, and other people figuring out how they could distract themselves from the chaos of their commutes. Side note: shout out to the black woman with hydrated skin and protected hair reading Angela Davis’ Women, Race, and Class– completely unbothered by all of the chaos during the after-work rush. Just from that, you taught me more than you will ever know.
Emerging from the stank of the different underground stops on the subway line, I would find myself entering different worlds, submersed into different art and rhythms. All of this literally minutes, by train, away.There was so much cultural difference between Lower East Side to SoHo or Upper East Side to BedStuy. There is no place like this in the world. These trips were worth it.
Let me tell you. These people have style. There is nothing like the street style of New York City. This city is filled with individuals who not only dare to be different but are fearlessly themselves. The mystery of each of these million individuals with different stories to tell pushed me to fill in the blanks of the stories and the different personalities I did not know. What brought you here? Where did you get that style inspiration from? My curiosity grew. These unique people were something so unfamiliar. Back home, this type of style and uniqueness was something that I only got to indulge in through the pages of Essence that I happened to pick up from the nearest Kroger.
Ugh, I can’t bring myself to like this place…I refuse to be caught up in the stress of the other residents. This is one of the most annoying things about New York. Too many people look overworked and upset, like they are all fighting to climb up the same unsturdy corporate ladder. Although, I am glad I was exposed to this. This is the place that showed me to seek out tiny joys. To NEVER let myself reach that point of difficult return.Trust me, I sought out my joy whether that was a walk through Chelsea Market, a short saturday Bible study with friends, a thick piece of “ Brooklyn Blackout Cake” from Little Cupcake Bakeshop or a trip to Sisters Uptown Bookstore – black-owned bookstore. All of these things truly filled me but completely distracted me from the fact that my bank account was definitely emptying by the hundreds.
It’s never quiet, but by the middle of the semester, the bustle and noise could no longer phase me.I found myself walking through the overwhelming noise of midtown Manhattan but still experiencing inner peace and happiness. Of course, headphones playing some classic Stevie Wonder hits were also to credit for this. Next thing you know, I looked up and most of the time I would be spending here was behind me. I was not looking forward to leaving. That must mean something… I must l-l-love. this. place. I really did not want to admit it, I just kept walking questioning like Stevie Wonder did, If it was magic, then why couldn’t it be everlasting?
Although some days interrupted it, New York City was definitely a dream.This post has been my feelings finally expressed in words. It was forreal a movie, at least I wish it was so I could replay it a few more times.
I spent my last day in the city the same way I started. Roaming the streets solo. But, this time it felt way different. I decided to make my way up the Empire State Building because, you can’t leave the city without doing so, right? No, but I understood there to be so much to learn just from this experience so, I had to make that trip.
I was not wrong.
By then, I had seen these skyscrapers a million times but not at this angle. New York City’s skyscrapers are like none other. These ones are larger than life. These are the ones that seemed like they stretched on for a million miles and reached the highest heavens. These are the ones that reminded me of my final lesson of the semester; a lesson that put me at peace while preparing for the next chapter in my journey. Watching the sunset on the City from way far above ground reminded me that my role and contribution in the world thus far plays something so small. There is still so much for me to gain and learn and it didn’t just stop at that moment, in that city, when I found myself wanting to “accidentally” miss my flight back home. I had to keep moving forward.
During that last night is when I finally told myself that I was home. But, I believe I had made this place home a while before that. Was it because all my life I grew up being apart of this city through media? Or was it because this is the city that since stepping foot in front of that Brooklyn apartment taught me so much about making a home within myself.
A few months ago, I packed up my life in two suitcases and relocated to what is now one of my favorite cities.
Now — here I am, about two months after the unceremonious ending of a major chapter of my life. (Seriously, after surviving AND thriving in New York City for a few months, you would think you would deserve to get a couple of foil balloons). This chapter of my life has ended but, months later my mind still lingers with thoughts and teachings from the spirit of the city and the people that I encountered while I was there.
To the brownstones of Bed-Stuy, each corner and crevice of Harlem, and the bright lights in Time Square that Alica Keys promised would inspire me. They did just that. They inspired me. So much so, that I decided to write these feelings and engrave them into the internet so they could be permanent in my history.
New York City — I have been told many times that you will always be there but, in those moments, I have a hard time accepting that. But, I understand now. It is true, you will always be there, but the next time it will not show up at the same stepping stone in my life… the time when I needed you the most.
Until next time.
