I know. I know. Every generation of New Yorkers says it: “I’m leaving the city.”
Usually I hear it from old people ranting half-heartedly, somewhere between crime, another rent hike and some bullshit happening on the subway. But they don’t go anywhere. The old heads still live on the same block and probably die there, This time does feel different.
My generation are definitely leaving. Not threaten to. They’ve packed up, moved to Jersey suburbs, Connecticut, Upstate, Boston, Austin, SF, wherever. Because now they can. Remote work, family priorities, or simply the new wealth to make a change has given them an exit option. And those who can’t? They’re pushed further and further from the city center, priced out of neighborhoods their families built, commuting longer just to hang onto a piece of New York.
I had the privilege of growing up in Lower Manhattan. I’ve lived in SoHo. I live in Williamsburg now. The city I knew had grit, energy, and the rawness of immigrant families grinding it out. My neighbors were bakers, fashion models, shop owners, delivery drivers, actors trying to make it, garment workers, courthouse workers. It was such a crazy mix of people that it wasn’t pretty, but it was real.
Now? The very same area and so many parts of Manhattan I imagine feels like it’s been gutted by nepotism and wealth. The grittiness is gone, replaced by glossy storefronts and kids who’ve never paid rent with their own paychecks.
The moment it hit me wasn’t dramatic, but it was symbolic. My cousin and I went to grab Bánh Mì at Broome Street. This was a spot we grew up eating, an old comfort food for us. We’re quietly in line, when this eager Chad standing in front of us turns around and starts raving about how good this Bánh Mì spot is. He’s explaining it to us like he’s discovered buried treasure, like he’s the local and we’re the tourists.
Here’s the thing: the place he’s hyping up? It’s literally in the building I lived in since I was two years old. I wanted to laugh. We played it cool, just said, “Nice.” But he kept going, lecturing us on the authenticity of a place I could walk to blindfolded. My cousin has a short fuse, so he eventually put the guy in his place. I almost felt bad for Chad. I lie.I didn’t… because WELCOME TO NEW YORK LOSER.
But that was the moment I realized the disconnect. My New York, the one I grew up in, isn't here anymore. And maybe it never will be again.
I think I can walk away from the city because it gave me everything: my childhood, my grit, my edge. But now it feels like it’s someone else’s playground. Maybe six months from now I’ll be back, swearing the pizza kept me here. But I’ve never uttered the words. For the first time: I think I’m leaving NYC.
The BEST networking event I’ve ever attended.
March 21, 2022