The weather. In California (or the San Francisco Bay Area) where I’m from, you’ll get at least 200 days of sunny weather each year. This makes a tremendous difference in terms of physical and mental health; you won’t see many people suffering from S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder) in California. You will, however, see a lot of tanned Asians, like me.
In Philadelphia, weather is this bipolar thing. It’s inconsistent; it’s cloudy; it’s rainy and you never know why. It’ll be nice out for a few hours, and then it’ll suddenly switch to gloomy and slightly-trickling weather. But you know what, I still love Philadelphia weather (although right now it’s sunny, so maybe I’m being influenced by that), precisely because it is inconsistently nice. Because, sometimes, you’ll go through stretches of subpar weather (cloudy, rainy, & muggy), and then out of nowhere, you’ll get a day in which the sun shines through the skies—in which the sun, triumphant in all its glory, bursts onto the natural scene with awe and piercing power. It’s not the sun we see in California—it’s the sun we’ve waited weeks to see in Philadelphia. This is Philly weather. This is the weather of the city of brotherly love.
The people. In California, the people are more or less chill. Their salutations (if you’re in your twenties like me) range from the more-or-less colloquial ‘sup’ to ‘hey man.’ People don’t put as much effort into looking nice (judging from typical Cali-wear as flip-flops, shorts, and a T-shirt) as East-Coasters. They’ll be sloppy with the language they use, and although Californians pride themselves on being the most tolerant state, you’ll find pockets of ignorance and hate anywhere you go.
In Philadelphia, we talk to each other and we talk in real terms. I’m not sure how to frame this, but I would say that Philadelphians are quicker-witted and expect straight-talk, not ambiguous vacillation between truth and lie. Because, in Philly, we speak with desperate hearts; we cry out for justice and relief in our material poverty but we are no less rich in our spiritual yearnings than any other city in America. Suffering is evident in our city and we know this—city workers complain during breaks on construction sites, bartenders tell stories of getting punched in the face by vandals, men down beer like its nothing, black ladies sit in circles talking about their children and those of others, and we pretend to understand standard black English.
The attitude. In California, we take long lunch breaks and expect others to pick up the tab. We saunter about in hot weather like we deserve it. Nice days aren’t appreciated, they’re taken for granted, like we take for granted we’ll wake up in the morning. San Francisco is the best city in the world in my opinion, but not exactly because of its history of being welcoming to World War II veterans or the LGBT community or its status as a Chinese/Hong-Kongese diaspora. San Francisco is the greatest city in the world because we do not accept the obvious and because we will reject tradition if it flies in the face of our most cherished beliefs of individual freedom and equality. There are ministers in SF who support marriage equality; there are ministers who don’t. There are bikers and runners and runners with baby carriages. There are conservatives and liberals and we don’t take stock in who’s more correct over the other. This is the promise of diversity: tolerance. When me, a Korean-American who wouldn’t have been allowed into the country 80 years ago, can compliment a Caucasian lady on her pretty yellow nails and not feel judged by anyone else in the MUNI car. Where racial harmony is not a given, but plays itself out in the lives of ordinary individuals choosing to marry across racial lines.
Philadelphia has a different attitude. Racial unity has yet to occur, although this is not as pressing of an issue as some would assume from reading this essay. Gentrification is a reality. Black families struggling against poverty are more visually apparent. And I don’t understand why individuals don’t understand the nature of the beast: poverty and its relation to mental health. Did you know that the longer an individual lives in poverty, the lower his or her IQ is purported to be (correlation and not causation)? Education is for the privileged few. Rich white and Asian kids go to nice colleges and throw away furniture like wastepaper at the end of the year. Minority students struggle and few help. But we still try, those of us who’ve worked in the nonprofit sector. Because we don’t know if we’ll succeed, but we also don’t know why suffering has to be. Our visions intersect, San Francisco’s and Philadelphia’s, and we will win, as Geoffrey Canada said, because we are right. With all the comprehensive and righteous justification we need and don’t need, we fight for a better future because the past shows that it’s possible.
In Philadelphia, weather is this bipolar thing. It’s inconsistent; it’s cloudy; it’s rainy and you never know why. It’ll be nice out for a few hours, and then it’ll suddenly switch to gloomy and slightly-trickling weather. But you know what, I still love Philadelphia weather (although right now it’s sunny, so maybe I’m being influenced by that), precisely because it is inconsistently nice. Because, sometimes, you’ll go through stretches of subpar weather (cloudy, rainy, & muggy), and then out of nowhere, you’ll get a day in which the sun shines through the skies—in which the sun, triumphant in all its glory, bursts onto the natural scene with awe and piercing power. It’s not the sun we see in California—it’s the sun we’ve waited weeks to see in Philadelphia. This is Philly weather. This is the weather of the city of brotherly love.
The people. In California, the people are more or less chill. Their salutations (if you’re in your twenties like me) range from the more-or-less colloquial ‘sup’ to ‘hey man.’ People don’t put as much effort into looking nice (judging from typical Cali-wear as flip-flops, shorts, and a T-shirt) as East-Coasters. They’ll be sloppy with the language they use, and although Californians pride themselves on being the most tolerant state, you’ll find pockets of ignorance and hate anywhere you go.
In Philadelphia, we talk to each other and we talk in real terms. I’m not sure how to frame this, but I would say that Philadelphians are quicker-witted and expect straight-talk, not ambiguous vacillation between truth and lie. Because, in Philly, we speak with desperate hearts; we cry out for justice and relief in our material poverty but we are no less rich in our spiritual yearnings than any other city in America. Suffering is evident in our city and we know this—city workers complain during breaks on construction sites, bartenders tell stories of getting punched in the face by vandals, men down beer like its nothing, black ladies sit in circles talking about their children and those of others, and we pretend to understand standard black English.
The attitude. In California, we take long lunch breaks and expect others to pick up the tab. We saunter about in hot weather like we deserve it. Nice days aren’t appreciated, they’re taken for granted, like we take for granted we’ll wake up in the morning. San Francisco is the best city in the world in my opinion, but not exactly because of its history of being welcoming to World War II veterans or the LGBT community or its status as a Chinese/Hong-Kongese diaspora. San Francisco is the greatest city in the world because we do not accept the obvious and because we will reject tradition if it flies in the face of our most cherished beliefs of individual freedom and equality. There are ministers in SF who support marriage equality; there are ministers who don’t. There are bikers and runners and runners with baby carriages. There are conservatives and liberals and we don’t take stock in who’s more correct over the other. This is the promise of diversity: tolerance. When me, a Korean-American who wouldn’t have been allowed into the country 80 years ago, can compliment a Caucasian lady on her pretty yellow nails and not feel judged by anyone else in the MUNI car. Where racial harmony is not a given, but plays itself out in the lives of ordinary individuals choosing to marry across racial lines.
Philadelphia has a different attitude. Racial unity has yet to occur, although this is not as pressing of an issue as some would assume from reading this essay. Gentrification is a reality. Black families struggling against poverty are more visually apparent. And I don’t understand why individuals don’t understand the nature of the beast: poverty and its relation to mental health. Did you know that the longer an individual lives in poverty, the lower his or her IQ is purported to be (correlation and not causation)? Education is for the privileged few. Rich white and Asian kids go to nice colleges and throw away furniture like wastepaper at the end of the year. Minority students struggle and few help. But we still try, those of us who’ve worked in the nonprofit sector. Because we don’t know if we’ll succeed, but we also don’t know why suffering has to be. Our visions intersect, San Francisco’s and Philadelphia’s, and we will win, as Geoffrey Canada said, because we are right. With all the comprehensive and righteous justification we need and don’t need, we fight for a better future because the past shows that it’s possible.
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