Long Beach: An Ode to a Perfectly Imperfect City

An ode to a perfectly imperfect city

STORY BY SHANNON HEWKIN PHOTOS BY ELYSSA RUIZ DESIGN BY ELLINOR RUNDHOVDE

welve years ago, I moved into my first apartment in Long Beach. For $765 a month, I was the proud renter of a tiny, 1920s era, one bedroom apartment. The space had an ironing board built into the kitchen wall, a built-in desk, bookshelves in the living room, a clawfoot tub, and plenty of closet space.

Sure, the carpet was an awful rust color, every single cabinet, door, and shelf hadn’t been painted in a lifetime, and my queen bed didn’t fit in my room. But, I was in love with its unending charm.

After my family and boyfriend hauled my entire life up the rickety wooden stairs to my new place, I took a drive to check out my new neighborhood. I ended up going the wrong way on 1st Street, which is not only a one-way street, but also a bus lane.

I made my way home, only to spend the first of many nights attempting to find parking in an impacted city. This night ended with me crying myself to sleep while listening to my clock radio, since my cable wasn’t hooked up yet.

Days have gotten better in the years since. My boyfriend and I bought a condo in Long Beach, got married, became pet parents to four awesome cats, my best friend lives down the street, and my mom and brother both live within a mile distance.

I’m walking distance to the beach, gym, restaurants, and a great record store. I’m also a fantastic parallel parker now and I don’t turn down one-way streets anymore.

Long Beach is like a long-lasting friendship or a romantic relationship — it only works if you accept it for what it is.

If you want to hear a mariachi band serenading a woman outside her apartment, you also have to accept that you’ll hear the occasional homeless man screaming obscenities outside the grocery store. If you want to smell the honeysuckle bushes in spring and the salty ocean air in the summer, you also have to smell the cigarette smoke wafting from the neighbor across the alley and street corners that smell like urine.

If you want to feel the pride of living in one of the more diverse, progressive, inspiring, and active communities in the Los Angeles area, you will also have to feel the anger, fear, confusion, and poverty still present in this diverse city.

Walks from my house to the beach have become increasingly shaded by the rise of $500,000 condos filling up empty lots. My thoughts flex between “it’s better than a dirt lot” and “who can afford these condos?”

I’m continuously conflicted by the progress of this city.

Mayor Robert Garcia was elected in 2014 as the youngest, first openly gay candidate, and first person of color to hold the position — a huge source of pride for the community.

That was before there was a petition to recall him.

Recently, I’ve been making changes in my life. I have a new job, I’m finishing college, and I’ve been heavily contemplating one more major change — moving out of state. The move would have financial positives, but I’d be leaving a part of my life behind.

Can I leave you, Long Beach?

I love your cool streets and gritty rundown alleys. I love your vibrant rainbow crosswalks and your uneven sidewalks. I’m not sure my heart is ready to leave, even if my head seems sure of my decision.

So until I do leave, I will keep enjoying you for everything you are.