California & Oakland & Personal 26 Oct 2008 04:18 pm
My ‘hood
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.