My relationship with Baltimore first started in the car in 2020. Before that, the city was a foreign place to me. It was a concrete jungle that I visited to watch an Orioles baseball game at Camden Yards or saw on Sundays beneath I-83 at the farmers market, where the smell of fresh pastries and coffee mixed with the chatter of vendors. Through that car window, I began to realize that what I knew or was told was not the complete truth. Once I left the car, I felt overwhelmed by the idea of needing to understand this daunting place. However, I was mistaken—Baltimore was not scary; it was misunderstood. A city that has been characterized as dangerous and dying is actually a vibrant place where community can be found across its landscape.
Transferring schools opened a door into a new world where I discovered my love for understanding these complex urban fabrics. Baltimore is especially interesting to me because of its rich history and quirky tendencies. I see the city as a patchwork quilt. Independently, there are many smaller communities that are sewn together. Each sector has a story that is told through its people and their experiences living here. Much of the city has greatly evolved over its almost 300-year history and continues to change. That being said, many things have stayed true. Driving through the city, you can see the change from neighborhood to neighborhood— from the grand mansions of Guilford to the eclectic charm of Hampden, where vintage shops, art galleries, and restaurants line 36th Street, also known as "The Avenue."
Baltimore is known for its neighborhoods, meaning that every few blocks, a name is designated to the people living there, specifically encapsulating the piece of Baltimore that is distinctly theirs. Each pocket is unique, with its own pieces of culture and history that make it distinct. Whether in Little Italy, where you can smell fresh bread baking, or in Federal Hill, where young professionals fill the bars and overlook the Inner Harbor, each area has a personality of its own. Walking through Lexington Market, you can see the city’s diversity in action, from the fresh seafood stands to the historic Berger cookies stacked behind the glass. Each neighborhood isn’t for everyone—they have their quirks and problems—but there is a unifying sense of community. No matter where you go in Baltimore, whether in the North or on the Westside, people are proud to call Baltimore home.
At first, I didn’t understand why. It didn’t make sense to me a place characterized as bad could also be so good. But I realized it’s because people embrace their unique aspect of the city and care for their small slice of home. I resonate with this because I was not technically local, but I also wasn’t a visitor, and I wasn’t a resident. So how do I find my place in this city? I see the city through its past—from the experiences of immigrant families, industry leaving, systemic racism, and a unifying love for this messy place—and was able to understand it from a fundamental lens. This was a place where people have been left out and wronged by their own government for decades, but it is also a place where healing and love were built into the row homes and streets.
Through exploring the city and its respective neighborhoods, I found that without them, Baltimore is not the same. Each one adds new cuisine, new art, and new laughter. The unique culture of Hampden, where locals gather in cozy diners before heading to Camden Yards to cheer on the Orioles, the mouthwatering fried chicken from Royal Farms, and the vibrant art festival, Artscape, downtown all contribute to the city’s soul. This city does not hide its flaws; they are obvious in the boarded-up Victorian row homes lining West Baltimore and the lack of public transportation connecting the city from East to West. However, Baltimoreans are resilient and continue to fight to right the wrongs done to their city. While many people might write off the city for its flaws, they miss the small joys that are all around.
I think that while this is not just unique to Baltimore, it does call for celebration and admiration. A city that has told its people they are unwanted is being reclaimed by those same people. My view of Baltimore is shaped by the people who showed me their part and what makes Baltimore their home. This is why I love this place and call it my second home—a patch of my quilt.
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