Brooklyn is one of my favorite places in the world. I was born and raised there until I was three. Now that I’m an adult, each visit to the borough feels new, and yet instinctively familiar. For the past few years, I’ve dreamed of moving back.
I want to live in Brooklyn to a) expand creatively and b) immerse in a community of other black gay women…iinstead, I live in Connecticut, which feels like the polar opposite. The job I have here is admirable, for an adult who is saving and building her career. But I can’t help but feel stuck, like I’m putting my dream on the back burner for conventional (disappointing) adulthood. Life here has felt…bleak.
But last week, after a work-related panic attack (fun!), I escaped to Brooklyn for four days.
It had been awhile since my last trip to the borough, but when I arrived, I fell in love with it all over again. My trip consistend of: watching the sun set on old brownstones; flirting at a lesbian-owned bar, and again with a lover a few blocks down; perusing a feminist bookstore; eating at my favorite vegan spot; devouring art at the Brooklyn Museum, and the piña coladas at Eve's Lounge…
I was the happiest I’d felt in a long time. For four days, I lived a glimpse of what could be my new and exciting life. So I’ve decided: I’m ready to live out my dream, permanently.
I am moving to Brooklyn.