Defining Yourself as a New Yorker

There are lots of people who try to define New York, and what it means to be a New Yorker. There’s that really annoying quote that a city authority displayed on the subways a while back saying that native New Yorkers give the city its “stability,” the commuters give it “restlessness,” and the recent emigrants give the city its “passion.” And the article in today’s New York Times talks about the assimilation of newcomers. No matter where they’re from, New York is always eager to transform recent arrivals into “New Yorkers.” The only question is how long it takes.

Why so eager to transform them? And transform them into what?

There are a lot of compelling narratives that help define New York. There’s the story of the immigrants during the late 19th and early 20th centuries; of the Harlem heydays in the 1920s and 30s; of the decline and redemption in the 70s, 80s, and 90s; and of a post-9/11 resurgence in this century. Which one of these defines New York City? I don’t think anyone can tell you for sure, but surely it’s some combination of them all.

My real question is, why is New York so eager to define itself? I’ve lived outside of Philadelphia for most of my life, and it’s never seemed so eager to talk about anything other than the Declaration of Independence and the Eagles. I’m sure that interesting stuff happened between those two events, but you don’t find Philadelphians obsessing over them.

Of course, New York City has probably had more interesting things happen to it over the past one hundred years. And for at least that long, New Yorkers have been trying to persuade everyone else how great a story New York really is. Times Square, the tourism office will tell you, is the center of the universe! Central Park is the loveliest of city parks! And look at our buildings – aren’t they so tall?!?!

Yes, they’re tall, Central Park is definitely beautiful, and Times Square is really bright and crowded. But why the self obsession? Perhaps it’s because, even more so than Washington, DC, New York portrays itself as America’s First City. In order to be that kind of city, it has to have a compelling story. And in order for its residents to feel like they are a part of that larger story, they try to fashion their own compelling stories.

But there are two sides to the story. If New York is bigger and flashier than it used to be, it’s also more materialistic and plain loud. If there is more diversity, then there is also less access to good education. I’ve written before how I think that New Yorkers aren’t more tolerant of others – we simply don’t care about one another.

Maybe the fact that New York is so big, and has such a wonderful story, compels people to write their own stories. But the fact that they are written does not necessarily make them true. It’s easy for friends of mine to write in their blogs about how classy and sophisticated they are, and how they just couldn’t possibly live anywhere but “the city.” But is sipping overpriced cocktails at swank (i.e. "sleazy") Manhattan bars the definition of urban sophisticate?

The people most eager, after all, to write themselves into New York’s history are the one’s who weren’t born here. They’re the ones who, according to that writer (a NYC emigrant himself), give the city its “passion.” At least that’s what they’d like you to think. But really, what does a recent college graduate who moved here in 2008 have to do with the Fitzgeraldian NYC of the 1920s? Why not try to come up with your own definition of who you are, and what sorts of things appeal to you?

My point is that New Yorkers seem to be more willing than those living elsewhere to tell you how important they are, and how perfectly their lives fit in whatever New York narrative they are compelled by at the moment. There are lots of interesting people here, for sure. But to me, the most interesting people are those who don’t forcefully insert themselves in a historical narrative that they had nothing to do with.