I never saw clotheslines
in Riverside. I figure most people had the same idea my parents had when they
moved here in 1987: to find a slice of suburbia that was affordable. Before
Riverside, my family lived near my father’s work in Santa Ana, Orange County,
but with a family my size, we needed space, and space in Orange County is
expensive. Very expensive. With their budget, my parent’s only options were
rundown fixer uppers, usually 2 bedrooms, and almost always in neighborhoods
not well suited for raising children. There was another option, though: take a
40 minute drive down the 91 and look there, in Riverside. For the same price as
a 1 bedroom in Orange County, my family could afford a 4 bedroom, with a
jacuzzi and pool to boot. My family took up this offer, and soon became part of
a new boom of commuters working in Los Angeles/Orange County. We were struggling
working class in Orange County, but found the American Dream in Riverside. Low
property taxes, big yards, and quiet neighborhoods. There were no laundromats or
clotheslines here, we were in the peace, safety, and convenience of the
suburbs.
I was born in 1991,
shortly after my family had settled in. My home was situated between dirt hills
and orange groves, in a neighborhood composed of cul-de-sac after cul-de-sac.
As a child the open spaces and farmland made for great play areas, but as I
grew into a more angsty teen, what made my parents love Riverside made me
resent it. Without a car you were crushed by the sprawl, and nightlife and
excitement were virtually nonexistent. All the concerts and events were in LA
or Orange County, and no one wanted to drive in traffic to get there. The
opportunities and fun were all seemingly outside, away from here. Riverside
felt like a trap, like a poor imitation of a real city. This wasn’t where
things were happening, it was where you watched things happen.
My parents, however, were
vindicated. Riverside grew and grew, and their 100k 4 bedroom home had suddenly
become extremely valuable. Morning door to door proselytizers were now real
estate agents and appraisers encouraging you to move or refinance. My parent’s
home was now worth close to 500 thousand dollars, almost 5 times my parent’s
mortgage. Until it wasn’t.
Just like that, what drew
so many working class people to Riverside was virtually gone. When the
financial crisis hit, almost all of Riverside’s money was tied to real estate.
The dream was gone, and what we woke up to was terrifying. The most common
architectural feature of Riverside were the wood frames of halted development.
Every pristine suburban neighborhood was now littered with empty homes,
distinguishable by their dead grass and foreclosure notices. Riverside soon
became popular for topping lists created by publications like Forbes or The
Economist detailing the cities most adversely affected by the recession.
And then with the city, I
too collapsed. Literally collapsed, just from getting up from bed, and my pale
complexion and constant illness could no longer be ignored. I checked into the
hospital shortly after my 19th birthday on September 3rd,
2010, and by September 15th I was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic
Leukemia. Now this area, Riverside, the Inland Empire, which I resented for
most of my life, would get to work saving my life.
I responded to treatment
well (as “well” as someone can respond to 3 years of chemotherapy, radiation,
and steroid treatment) and by 2014 I had mostly recovered. Amazingly, it seemed
Riverside had begun to recover as well. Development had started back up again,
new, exciting areas of nightlife had emerged, and we as a city were getting
more attention than ever. University of California, Riverside was expanding and
impressing more and more people around the country, and I was accepted to study
my passion of Anthropology there. I couldn’t help but feel so very alive in my
city.
On the Line, as a result,
symbolized all the growing I have done alongside this city. Before I don’t
think anyone would have associated Riverside with art, collaboration, and
education. Here I was in a city I once felt symbolized the sterile, monotonous
modern suburb was now hosting an exhibit created by the collaboration of
scholars and artist. It had created a site that was filled with life; that
inspired me.
When I offered the
opportunity to win the laundry supplies, the discussions I had about laundry
and the experience it offered showed me that we weren’t a city of commuters
looking for the quickest, most convenient way. People were interested in being
connected to their neighbors, their experiences, and their home. In a way, the
discussions surrounding our laundry and the way we do it, whether it be
managing the annoyance of public laundromats, seeking help from our parents and
peers, or planning an outdoor clothesline, made me feel and witness the variety
and life of Riverside. To me, it felt like together we were creating a new
Riverside culture from the ashes of its brief collapse, all inspired by the
discussion created by an area where ideas, discussion, and art converged. Right
here in Riverside.
