Metacentricities

I have been thinking a lot about where I live, and the kind of place it is, and how it is so completely different than anywhere else I’ve ever lived before.

I live in Fruitvale. It is a neighborhood in Oakland that is incredibly diverse, although by far the largest population here is Latino. The census data from my zip code says that about 1/2 of the households are Latino, and the rest are divided up between Whites (next largest group), Blacks, and Asians.

My immediate neighborhood is interesting. It is not quiet. There are barking dogs (I could write a whole treatise on cultural differences in relationships with dogs,) souped up cars that roar loudly down the street, the occasional really loud party where rap or salsa is played, and the general noise of the city. One hears gunshots on occasion, and a housemate’s bicycle was stolen (locked, in front of our house) by the neighbor who, apparently, has been stealing from his neighbors for 25 years. But, we have a neighborhood watch, and it actually feels very safe - I live on a dead-end street, and many of the houses are owned by people related to each other (not to the stealing neighbor, however.)

Oakland continues to spark in me very interesting ruminations about race and class in this country because of the juxtapositions and intersections. Ruth now lives about 6 minutes away from me, one zip code up. She lives in a quiet, sedate neigbhoorhood called Glenview. Instead of aging American cars and pickup trucks, European and high-end Japanese cars predominate. There are only wooden fences, instead of chain-link. All of the yards and houses are impeccably maintained, and houses cost twice (or more) what they cost in my neighborhood. But both neighborhoods share the Farmer Joe’s supermarket, and we are both closest to the same Peet’s coffee place. It’s a very odd juxtaposition. And, the choice has been primarily mine. Unlike many, who are limited by income, credit-worthiness or both, I could as easily live where Ruth is living than live here. But I chose to live here. Some of the choice, of course, had to do with this house (it’s a wonderful space) and my fabulous housemates. But there was something that drew me to this neighborhood as well.

Somehow, my life in college towns didn’t prepare me for this. I went to a wonderful festival this morning, Dia de los Muertos, in what I guess could be called the center of Fruitvale. It was a lot of fun, and the coolest part of it, for me was that the festival wasn’t for me. People like me (people who do not have Mexican ancestry) were basically an afterthought. Everything was in Spanish, and I almost felt like I had been transported to Mexico. I was probably part of the 10% of the people there who were not Latino.

I keep watching, and learning, and hoping to find my place here.

I hate unpacking. Of course, I hate packing too, and I think packing is worse. But unpacking is a pain, too.

I’m finally settled in my new place, have all of the stuff out of the garage where it’s been stored for a few weeks, and am now faced with a mound of boxes. It’s at this stage that I want to become someone who has almost no stuff. I think fondly back in the days (college) when I could fit everything I owned into the trunk of my parent’s car. What’s funny is that I own a lot less stuff than I did in early 2005, before I ditched most of it, and went to seminary. But stuff has a way of accumulating, and by now, I have a lot more stuff.

I’m enjoying Fruitvale, the neighborhood of the home I now live in. Fruitvale isn’t quite “the hood”, but it sure isn’t Piedmont or Glenview. I’m learning a lot about neighborhoods in Oakland, and what their reputations are, what their makeup is, and how they feel. Fruitvale is very multi-ethnic - part of it is heavily African-American, then it starts to blend into a part that is heavily Latino. It’s vibrant and active. There are some great taco trucks and little produce/grocery stores, and a little restaurant down the street that makes good Licuados (basically sweetened fruit smoothies.)

Living in Oakland is about as far from living in Western Mass as you can imagine in so many ways. It’s noisy and crowded. It’s incredibly diverse. People of color are a majority of the population in most places in Oakland (with some exceptions - Rockridge/Elmwood, and the Oakland hills for instance - all upscale areas.) Oakland is an incredibly interesting study in race and class, and how those manifest itself in how and where people live.

The cool thing, though, is that it is just as progressive, and even queerer. That’s been fun.

So far, I’m really enjoying being here. I’m not really missing New England yet, although I am missing my friends there. And I found my sources for cider, an important fall thing. Weird too, being able to get local(ish - from Oregon) fresh apple cider and local strawberries at the same time! It’s going to take me a while to get used to that.