New Jersey is Bearable

WRITTEN BY LIZ FARIAS

PHOTOS BY LIZ FARIAS

When I think about what redeems New Jersey for me, it’s always the Northeastern autumn. Growing up, I used to believe that if I stayed here too long, the hustle-bustle culture would seep too deep into my skin, and I’d be stuck as a fast walker, living in perpetual anxiety forever. I envy slow lifers, small lifers, in a way — people who move through the world unhurried — and I think about how my parents grew up in a beach city. I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean. But the more time I spend away from that kind of life, the easier that dream fades.

Then I think about my mom, and how she’s anything but calm and collected. She must be an outlier, right? Most immigrants are.

So maybe there’s hope for me to change no matter where I end up. Regardless, I think growing up here has built an aptitude for change into me. I get to watch the world reset around me multiple times a year, and in some ways, I reset with it. I like that I can take the same bus route every week and the trees will look different each time. I laugh when it’s 4 p.m., the sky is already navy, and my shadow has disappeared. There’s a grit to living somewhere that gets this cold, but that’s what makes the warmer moments feel more precious (until, of course, they grow unbearable too). I like that in September my friends and I can plan a picnic and, without coordinating, we all show up in flannels. I’m not even a flannel wearer, but I keep one tucked away for the days when the wind feels festive and different.

A recent memory from my time in Los Angeles comes to mind now: I met a Brazilian guy at my favorite açaí store and grabbed his social media. Within a few months, he had started a YouTube channel and podcast. One of his first videos was a short, four-minute journal where he explained in Portuguese why leaves change in the fall. He was documenting his move to New York, and since New York is such a popular destination, he wanted to show his viewers how the leaves changed and fell there. He described how, when the season shifts, leaves stop producing chlorophyll, revealing the yellow and orange carotenoids already present. There was a bliss and passion in the way he communicated this, and it struck me because it was a question I had never thought to ask—a process I’d always taken for granted, even though I loved it too. Afterwards, I messaged him about the video because it reframed something mundane into something exciting for me. Experiencing novelty through the eyes of an outside friend, or perhaps the eyes of a child, is something I’ve always found thrilling.

A lot of Jersey girls grow up knowing they’re Jersey girls. I realized it when I left. It’s fun when someone can spot my accent, less fun when people can’t keep up with my humor. I’ve had to teach myself to not be so abrasive. But I love that wherever I go, I’m never missing a piece of seasonal wardrobe since we get every season here, in all its extremes. And yeah unfortunately, I grew up fantasizing about life in Manhattan too.

PHOTOS BY LIZ FARIAS

I don’t really know why I’m rambling. This isn’t a love letter to New Jersey. But maybe it’s a reminder that there are good things here, and it’s okay to be shaped by where you come from, even as you change with where you’re going.

While I’m here, I want to find new ways to look at it.