Blogging Social Difference in LA: Week 2

                 Orange County, the quintessence of postsuburbia according to Olin, Kling and Poster in the article “The Emergence of Postsuburbia,” harmonizes both the stimulating city center detailed by Ernest Burgess in “The Growth of the City” and the ability to live in “widely separated worlds” (Burgess), worlds separated both by distance and difference. I can confirm after traveling through Orange County and walking around Orange and Irvine that there is plenty of land and diversity...if you know where to look. In order to witness this diversity, it was necessary to travel through various smaller regions within the region; pockets of homogeny seemed common, including the old town center of Orange and the residential areas of Irvine. Orange country has many of the aspects outlined in Olin’s article, which defines postsuburban as a society that has broken off from the urban core (Los Angeles in this case).

Development is evident at every turn in Irvine; I saw countless signs designating new apartments and office buildings in every direction. Like the coral structures of a coral reef, the largely technological businesses are the fundamental structures of the Irvine-Costa Mesa-Newport Beach regional center, attracting a dynamic and diverse labor force. Coral reefs may be slightly more colorful and visually appealing than the mainly monochrome, simple, sleek, modern architecture, but Irvine is carefully planned-out and functions in an economically sustainable manner. It was built for success. 
               This ability to self-sustain was previously uncharacteristic of suburban areas, as their core still remained in the city. Orange County demonstrates, however, that though its early immigrants largely came from the city of Los Angeles in search of more affordable housing and room to breathe, it did not depend on L.A. Orange County now has its own pulse, even if it is less palpable in certain areas, originating from a unique heart that beats with determination and intention. It is not the same as the “pulse of the community” (Burgess) other regions of L.A., which signifies a state of mobility in terms of growth and metabolism. Great mobility leads to great consequences. The ever-changing and expanding body of people leads to growing pains: areas of demoralization. Such areas of vice as a result of over-stimulation were not evident (if they exist) to me on my travels through Irvine and Orange. Especially in Irvine, I felt particularly and eerily safe. I heard no sirens and saw many police cars with nothing to do. The roads were clean and wide, the buildings were numerous but not decrepit or belittling, and the few people I came into contact with were pleasant and unhurried. One reason for this may be because people immigrated into Orange County with a different mindset than those drawn to the heart of the city, including the desire to find jobs and become educated: “43 percent of new residents have college or graduate degrees compared with 35 percent of longer-term residents” (Olin).

               The hardworking immigrants—along with people from all over the country—who now live and work in one of Orange County’s various regions, have helped shape the postindustrial society that continues to develop and set the trend for other postsuburban areas. Los Angeles and other large cities have a single center, while Orange County consists of multiple. While the residential and business areas are distinct from each other, they are still in close proximity, therefore allowing people to live, work, and play without having to spend hours on the freeway.

                 Furthermore, I found that the city centers do not match the intense degree of “danger, excitement, and thrill” (Burgess) in downtown Los Angeles, but rather attract those who do not mind dulled lights; for some, the bright lights of the city are not attractive, or not attractive enough to justify the living expenses. While in Orange, I walked around the Orange circle, which is a roundabout filled with restaurants, one too many antique stores, and a mix of elderly, families, and students. I interviewed various people, and found that most had recently moved to Orange County in the past two years and enjoyed it better than their previous location. My waitress at the vegan restaurant Rutabegaz moved to Orange two years ago with her husband, who commutes daily to Los Angeles for work. Although she would prefer a house in Long Beach, she chose to live in an apartment in Orange where it is less expensive and where she can use her own two feet as transportation. She babysits for a friend east of downtown Orange and noticed that the neighbors are friendly. Her friend believes it to be a great place to raise her family. A fifty-year-old man living in Irvine had a similar perspective, describing the “entire community’s” involvement in surfing; it is a form of family bonding, even for those his age and older to participate. Originally from Chicago, he appreciates the laid-back atmosphere and “friendlier people.” One middle-aged woman I interviewed in an antique store would agree that Orange County is “less pretentious” than further north in places like Bel Air.

                Like the Suburbia of the 1920’s, white, middle class, and family oriented, the old town of Orange appeared lacking in diversity and conflict. In the more recently developed areas, like Irvine, a more diverse conglomeration exists. If I were to solely rely on my photographs as empirical evidence to support conclusions about the city, I would have only supported my preconceived notions. As I walked through a luxurious apartment complex, I felt almost lost among the sameness, but the people on the inside are not what the outside might suggest. Though the landscape is not diverse, the ethnicities are. Though the people are ethnically diverse, their similar goals seem to draw them together. The spectrum of social classes did not seem as wide as in other parts of L.A., but at least there was a spectrum.

                  As an active, social being, I was quick to note the absence of people walking along the streets or neighbors out in their yards as I drove through Irvine. Instead of disappointingly deeming it a community of hermits, I must include that it was raining. I must give them a second chance. Still, I sensed a quietness. There is not a hustle-and-bustle. The streets are made for cars, not people. Shopping malls like Irvine’s Spectrum seem to function as small city-centers where people seek not only clothes, but entertainment as well; the Spectrum is complete with a Ferris wheel, a movie theater, and various restaurants suited for large groups. It is reminiscent of a dense, street-oriented city center common before the 1980s. Peculiarly though, strangers do not often speak with one another, and it is a driving distance away from residential areas. There is a sense of community, but not genuine community. I also counted at least ten small shopping centers on my way through Irvine, most of which were entitled something similar to “village center” or "Marketplace." The signs seemed forced. It didn’t feel organic. Because it isn’t. Nevertheless, I appreciate the effort to create a community-like atmosphere. Community should not be shaped by concrete or signs, and as separated as the groups within Orange County are, the region functions as a unified whole according to Olin's article.

               Even as cities or postsuburbias expand, people continue to form smaller, specialized groups of often like-minded individuals, such as the middle-class business people in Irvine, or the church-going families in Orange. Overall, my experience in Orange County gave me insight into Robert E. Park’s claim that city’s contain “little worlds which touch but do not interpenetrate.” Orange County might shake hands with the cities around it, but it is its own body, with its own pulse, and an intricately designed system with diverse organs to keep it productive. 

Blogging Social Difference in LA: Week 1

         I do not like cities, generally. However, I have a sneaking suspicion that this dislike stems from a seed—possibly a watermelon-sized seed—of ignorance. Growing up in the suburbia of San Diego county, my exposure to the city was limited to monthly visits to downtown San Diego, visiting museums, parks, and the bay, feeding the homeless, or using the airport. Though I passed through the city many times, the times I felt most vulnerable were on foot. While walking, it was impossible to ignore the heaps of garbage, homeless men and women heaped up as nightfall fell, and diners heaping food into their anxious mouths. Despite some discomfort, experiencing the city in this manner without the privacy of a vehicle gave the juxtaposition of these sights new meaning. I began to question how such a diverse array of people with dissimilar social statuses could coexist in such a small area.
          This mix of ages, classes, and genders existing in a certain space rife with various businesses—from street magazine vendors to five-star restaurants—reminds me of Emile Durkheim’s term organic solidarity. According to Durkheim, individuality and specialization of talent are essential to modern society, along with sufficient education to allow all individuals to enter the industrial life. Because cities like Los Angeles are home to people of all origins with a broad spectrum of economic, religious, and ethnic backgrounds, it is not surprising that differentiation and a skewed division of labor characterize the region. Each individual likely faces some form of prejudice or segregation, whether it is horizontal or vertical, conscious or unintended. Durkheim would not be particularly perturbed that women are less often in higher status positions and receive less pay on average than their male counterparts; instead, his concern would mainly be moral. Marx includes that both power relations and ideology support the division of labor; class conflict is natural. The ideas of both Durkheim and Marx may not be entirely valid, but the distinctions and themes they observed in societies have been utilized to further recent studies and incorporated into arguments, including feminism. Moreover, their ideas of power, morality, and anomie (to name a few) will help me to evaluate Los Angeles’ social complexity. It is evident solely from skimming the demographics of Los Angeles in this link to the U.S. Census  Bureau quick-facts http://quickfacts.census.gov/qfd/states/06/06037.html that diversity is not only prevalent, but arguably what defines Los Angeles as a cultural center; almost 36% of people are foreign born (Census Bureau).

          As a recently-declared geography major, I have not yet declared an ardor for any single area. Still, I seized the opportunity to increase my awareness of a city’s inner workings, including the intricate relationships on an individual and group level; once I have a more well-rounded understanding of what makes a city tick, I will not simply let time pass when spending time in the city, but instead observe and appreciate the different mechanisms in action. Like the inside of a clock, there are several main gears that move simultaneously, pushing each other in circles. What I hope to discover as I travel through various regions of LA on foot, in the car, in a bus, or on a train, is whether or not the diversity (or lack thereof) I encounter is part of a larger mechanism with many different parts that often work cohesively and react to one another (similar to organic solidarity). Or, are the different types of people, cultures, and landscapes separate, not interconnected or interdependent, all watching a different clock and keeping their own time. I can predict that my travels will not be brief in an area so vast, crowded, and lacking in efficient public transportation. Nevertheless, sometimes being stopped on a congested freeway (the 405) forces me to de-congest my mind and breathe a bit deeper. Thus, as I search for the causes, effects, and consequences of social difference in Los Angeles, I will engage my senses and not simply pass through.

          In addition to written and photographed observations, I will interview citizens to explore their opinions and add a dimension to the 3-D landscape I travel to. Why do some people despise the city, yet use its resources and attractions, and why are others enthralled by cities and choose to stay permanently? Though I am a reluctant city-goer, I know there is something special about the varied groups and buildings that cluster like soap bubbles, overlapping, fusing, and bouncing off of one another. Biodiversity is absolutely essential to “nature.” Can social difference in metropolitan areas be just as essential? Is what often appears dirty, concrete, and chaotic, actually balanced according to natural phenomena?  I appreciate nature, hot weather and all, so I will do my best to appreciate that which is man-made, conflicts and all.