Chicago or New York?

Everyone keeps asking me, New York or Chicago? 

How about you shut the fuck up. Sorry. And stop invalidating how I feel when you don’t like my response. It’s so infuriating, as someone who doesn't even know how to racially identify, to hear people say that I’m wrong about how I view a city.

I’ll provide some context to grace your bewilderment.

I don’t understand what I’m supposed to be. Am I white? Am I biracial? Am I Latina? I don’t like any of these boxes and I don’t think I’ll ever know where to sit. But for the first time in my life, I genuinely felt no pressure in my identity.

As cliché as it sounds, I decided to come to try New York because of a dream I had when I was 6. When I asked my dad what I could be when I grow up, so that I could live anywhere and help people on the news. And it was a politician or a lawyer. And the news was always in New York City, and my dad told me about its size, diversity, and opportunities. And I knew I wanted to be a lawyer in New York City. You get the gist.

I’m saying this because I don’t feel scared about who I am anymore, and I really don’t want to be ashamed about it. NYC gave me this freedom I have now; Chicago could’ve never. 

Chicago is my home, and I feel so comforted there. One of the things that genuinely hurts my feelings is when people try to tell me that I’m not from Chicago because I don’t actively live there and didn’t grow up there. But let me say, I think we should expand where we come from to be what shaped us – not physicality. I won’t get into the sociological or psychological aspect of that, but there’s my position. 

Every single Sunday, for maybe 12 years, I went to Chicago. I went with my dad. I went with my brothers. Sometimes my mom tagged along, sometimes my grandparents. But it was the one time a week I didn’t have to be in that isolated area. I ran down sidewalks, memorized exhibits, and had a map of every single museum ingrained into my head – it’s my peace. And Chicago is beautiful, it’s rich in nature, in Lake Michigan, in beautiful street lights, and in Midwestern kindness. But it’s so similar.

The redlining is insane – the second the red lines hits the loop, the demographic of people on the train shifts instantly. We don’t even feel like neighbors. Why is Wicker Park the poster child, but not the rest of us? Why can’t we ride the same subways? Eat at the same places? Walk together? 

Chicago is so similar. Limited personal expression. Clones. And I’m not saying everyone is the same, but it’s so segregated that I never felt like I could fit in either more than one square or no squares at all. One or the other. One or the other. Why? 

New York, as vulnerable as I feel here in safety and financially, I’ve never felt so free. Everyone shares the subway. Everyone lives in every borough. Everyone eats the same food. Everyone shares the same seat. Everyone doesn’t care about anyone else. Everyone is authentically individual. And I finally felt like it was okay for me to be that as well. I sit here and I realize that at least here, I’ll never have to spend hours debating what my identity is because it doesn’t fucking matter. I don’t feel scared to try new clothes here, and I don’t feel scared to voice my opinion. 

I’ve never felt so perfectly ordinary for once in my life, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I love it here. And I’ll miss it.

So when you ask Chicago or New York, you’ll never understand, and I don’t expect you to. But it would be great if you could treat my perspective with indifference, just as New York City treats me.