Tales from a desert transplant

TALES FROM A DESERT TRANSPLANT

Written by Vivien Gray Valoren

From what I remember of home, there were always palm trees, mountains that stretched across the horizon and the warm feeling of sunlight that invigorated life across the Coachella Valley. For 24 years, I called the place of white sands home. Today, I am heartbroken how empty it feels to be there. I had spent almost my entire life in Palm Springs. Today, I reside for the first time outside of my home area. I am now a part of the American urban sprawl of Long Beach. I look at how life has changed and how I’ve changed as well. Everything I had thought about living in the city was true and now I look back at my life from the first day I realized I was living in the big city.

I drove to Long Beach the night prior to my move in date at the dorms to stay at a friend’s house. It was to make the move easier on me since I did not know what to expect. It really hit me that I was in Long Beach when I saw the city skyline at night. Here was this magnificent city, an entirely different world, just a mere two hours away from where I was staying my entire life. All around me were cars, cars and even more cars than what should be humanly possible. Getting anywhere was an extra ten minutes to find parking. I refuse to pay for something the city itself creates by not making public transport better. There is food everywhere. Five of everything. I can find anything to do because if it isn’t here, there’s ten more over in LA. Goth night clubs, gay bars and thrift stores that sell obscure things I didn’t know existed. And I see more buildings than I do grass. I rarely see a lot of trees. Nature is a decoration rather than the environment we’re in. I see homeless people all the time and there is trash and just endless buildings as far as the eye can see. There is only ever silence in the dead of night, even then only rarely. But there are a lot of opportunities here. More than I ever had in Palm Springs. Sure, it is much more expensive. But some day, if I work really hard, I too will struggle to afford basic amenities. And as shitty as it all feels sometimes, I do actually like it here. Because as much as I hate all the noise, and how crowded it feels, and the insane price gouging, there’s community here.

Though I volunteered at a transgender health center to meet more trans people in Palm Springs, I was still alone. You see, for most of the trans people there, I was the first and only openly non-binary person they had ever met. And when you are in an area where you can only ever be seen as one of two options, man or woman, it can be hard to be seen as who you are. To be honest, I always felt alone in Palm Springs. The problem with living in such a touristy area is how superficial everything can feel. Sure, I can walk around holding hands with my girlfriend and feel 100% safe and see some of the most flamboyantly gay people I’ve ever seen and pride flags on every building year round, but ultimately, life there is not meant for the locals. It’s for the tourists. The only time I didn’t feel this way was when I would be out in nature. To me the long stretch of sand, desert bushes and rocks are more beautiful than any forest. I have sand in my veins and it pains me that my love for my home is now as empty as deserts are stereotypically portrayed. There is life there, but life that can’t sustain me anymore. I’ve grown as a person, far much more than anyone, even myself, could ever have predicted. That doesn’t mean it can’t be a home for someone else, just that it can’t be a home for me anymore.

Long Beach has grown on me. And I hate it. But I don’t regret starting to like it. And although driving through traffic bloated roads pales in comparison to the long winding roads with nothing but desert to view for miles, I could get used to it. There however is the issue of figuring out my future plans for where I should live. I still don’t have a long term home. My living situation revolves around how I can afford the dorms each semester, but I would like to have a place I could call home someday. Some place where the sands and palm trees remind me of the home I’ve left behind, and the ocean reminds me of the home I’ve gained. After all, taking the parts of life I enjoy from the desert is what makes me feel whole with what I’ve lost and what I hope to gain. Being able to evolve with the times but not forgetting lessons from the past is key to growth.

Adaptability is an essential aspect of survival in a desert, and it appears I carry that part of my old home with me. There’s a lot I would like to bring with me from the desert. To not only brighten my life, but also enlighten others with the gifts the experience of living there has taught me. As I have learned here, it is the people I yearn to live with. The environment, as tranquil as it can be, is absolutely desolate if there is not a soul who I can laugh with. And as painful as it is to realize the place where I thought I would forever call home is but an empty wasteland to me now, I am happy knowing I can find home in the arms of people I can love. I find love in my friends, my roommates and my community. For love is what makes a home a home.