Listening to Trump this week, you’d think D.C. is a post-apocalyptic hellscape filled with crime with streets full of potholes and parks of old dying grass. It makes me feel like I live in a different reality. All in all it’s a tough time to be a Washingtonian — my therapist can attest.
When did I know D.C. was the place for me? I might pin it to my first Petworth Porchfest, or falling down the stairs dancing at Wonderland. Now every time someone visits, I take pride in showing them our amazing parks filled with very verdant grass (“We’re the #1 park system in the nation, ya know” I add smugly) and taking them on a forced pupusa crawl (Lactose-free? Too bad). I sit back and watch as they ogle our big, beautiful, brutalist Metro and steal jealous glances at our cheap bikeshares.
I love that D.C. has a trivia night for Every. Single. Topic. and that I’m always the dumbest one there. I love that we have an entire blog dedicated to documenting albino squirrels. I love that we have a snowball fight association, and that even one inch of snow means Snowmageddon 2.0. I love steamy summer evening porch hangs while neighbors blast Rare Essence through shitty computer speakers. I love Pride, and park picnics, and library punk shows.
Petworth Porchfest, nothing but open streets, tunes, and good vibes. (Kaela Cote-Stemmermann/City Cast DC)
After over almost a decade of living here I’ve learned that D.C. has a few … quirks, let's say. Sureee the buses aren’t always on time, and yes you will be sweating through your shirt well into September. And ya, sometimes you go on a date that “happens” to still be wearing their work lanyard and holding two phones. (“Oh this? That’s just my TS clearance.” 🙄)
But despite its weird bits, D.C. has taught me some life lessons I couldn’t learn anywhere else. Like, never take out your trash at night, that’s the time for the rats, and rats only. Or, never — under any circumstances — go to the 14th Street Trader Joe’s on a weekend (unless you enjoy running into last night's DFMO).
But, if I’m being serious, D.C. is the first place I felt part of a community. I can’t count how many times neighbors have watered my community garden plot, spotted my Metro fare, or marched with me for issues they had no stake in. Everyone here just cares, it’s in our DNA.
Especially fond memories of this snowball fight in Malcolm X park this winter. (Kaela Cote-Stemmermann/City Cast DC)
Like many of the insufferable (but charming?) type-A people in D.C., I moved here to “change the world” but quickly realized it was enough for me to change my own small corner of it. Like any place, we’ve got issues (trust me, I know, it’s my job to talk about them), but we also have the right to resolve them. To me, D.C. will never be a political pawn, it’s home.
So while D.C. might be full of people who want to change the world, now we have to fight to not let the world change us.
