NYC Conglomerate
It is 9:51 A.M. on a Tuesday and I am slowly making my way towards my English class at 17 Lexington. So far, I have seen a Russian man singing about Jewish oppression on the B train; I have been nearly crushed to death by the powerful force of commuters on the 6 train; and I have walked past the infamous homeless man who claimed the front of Pret a Manger as his own personal living space. Within a block I have walked past an extremely overpriced hipster coffee shop (that admittedly makes a killer cinnamon chai latte), an organic restaurant, and a nonprofit agency for people with cerebral palsy – a sight that is quite hard to take in no matter what hour of the day. If I had walked in the opposite direction, I would stumble upon the Flatiron District, frequently dubbed as the Silicon Valley of NYC, an entrepreneurial hub for “venture capitalists, angel investors, and start-up company executives” with its fancy Italian eateries and upscale stores (McGee). To my west is Union Square with its exuberant culture, personality, and occasional loony bins. To my east are the tourist-infested neighborhoods of 34th street and 42nd.
Isn’t it funny how in any direction I decide to go, I could stumble upon just about anything? This is the beauty of New York. Everything in this wonderful little hub is like a maze or a never-ending adventure. It is a mystery, a work of art, and a conglomeration of past and present. It is infused with vibrant characteristics of innovation, diversity, freedom, and curiosity. It is revolutionary, unorthodox, intense, and mercurial with its ever-changing yet still tendencies. New York is anything and everything you want it to be, and it is up to you to make it your own.
To me, one of the most distinct qualities of New York City is its representation of a melting pot of people from every walk of life. I was born in raised a neighborhood that is culturally identical to say the least; my neighborhood is predominantly Russian, Uzbek, and Ukrainian. Also known as “Little Odessa by the Sea,” Brighton Beach is mostly known for fresh pierogies, the Boardwalk, and angry Russians. I lived with Russians, was raised with Russians, and was surrounded by Russians constantly. Until 6th grade when I entered a public school, I don’t think I even knew about the multitude of other ethnicities and nationalities that exist in this world. I suffered from culture shock for a while, but soon I loved that quality so much that I couldn’t imagine myself in homogenous surroundings. My high school was extremely diverse, and now I attend one of the most diverse colleges in NYC.
It’s absolutely incredible how one neighborhood can seem so immersed in its own culture that it sometimes fails to acknowledge others. NYC breaks all those barriers. My little Russian community was one enclave among many others; every different neighborhood can represent one distinct culture or a mixture of many. Cynthia Ozick, in The Synthetic Sublime, reminisces about a street game she used to play when she was still growing up in the Bronx. In this game of “War,” the central idea was to identify yourself with a certain country that you believe best represents you, and each player (or “country”) would vie for this pink rubber ball that would represent victory for the self-designated country. It was a game of pride and ethnocentrism, but also a game of acceptance and respect for others that one eventually develops when living in a city as diverse as New York.
In Here is New York, E.B. White mentions the New York “of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.” We live in a land of opportunity where people come from every corner of the Earth to make a name for themselves. It’s not a guarantee that everyone will make it in this cutthroat city, but it is guaranteed that everyone has the possibility to prosper and succeed. NYC may chew you up and spit you right back out, but at least you’ll end up back in New York. My parents have always told me that no matter the hardships and obstacles I’d encounter living in a competitive city like this one, New York is the only place where I would make something of myself. I could open up my own IPO on the NYSE or sweat in an Elmo suit on Times Square, but it was only in New York where I would have the opportunity and freedom to pick from both. Those who succeed are the ones who learn to take advantage of both.
New Yorkers know that nothing in this world is guaranteed or set in stone. In his essay, E.B. White says, New York City “can destroy an individual, or it can fulfill him, depending a good deal on luck. No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.” New Yorkers know better than to crave comfort and ease; they’re accustomed to the volatility and the robust nature of the city. The improbability and potential impossibility of New York can make or break you, and one knows better than to expect otherwise.
NYC has its own fair share of unappealing qualities: its ability to make you feel so miniscule one minute yet so herculean the next; its tendency to overwhelm you with a tsunami of forlorn and desolation; and its capability to knock out every last bit of optimism and sanguineness in you. It is a rough city to live in, but that’s what makes it like no other. New York City certainly has its innumerable flaws, but I cannot imagine New York City without them.
