You Can Take the Girl Out of Oakland…

The first thing I noticed after moving to San Jose was how quiet it was.

For me, it was too peaceful. And a bit unsettling.

Growing up in Oakland, silence wasn’t really part of the experience. There was always something happening. Somebody playing music a little too loud. A birthday party somewhere down the block. Kids playing and riding bikes outside. Sirens in the distance. The occasional fireworks that definitely weren’t tied to a holiday celebration.

Oakland had a soundtrack.

San Jose, on the other hand, feels like everyone collectively agreed to keep the volume down.

I joke with my husband about it all the time.

“It’s so quiet here it scares me.”

He laughs.

I’m only half joking.

I was born and raised in Oakland. For 23 years, it was all I knew. My entire family is there. I went to school there from preschool through high school. Every major childhood memory I have happened somewhere in Oakland.

It’s where I learned how to drive.

Where I learned how to navigate public transportation.

Where I had my first job.

It’s where I first encountered the love and gospel of Jesus Christ.

Oakland wasn’t just where I lived. It was the backdrop to my entire life.

The title of this post comes from the saying, “You can take the girl out of Oakland, but you can’t take Oakland out of the girl.”

It’s a variation of a well-known saying that basically means where you come from stays with you. Your roots, habits, values, and perspective on the world become part of who you are. You can move somewhere else. You can build a new life. Your address can change.

But some things come with you.

Even though I live in San Jose now, there are little reminders all the time that Oakland is still very much a part of me.

It’s in the way I talk.

In the food I crave when I need comfort.

In my appreciation for diversity and community.

It’s in the fact that complete silence feels a little suspicious.

Moving didn’t erase any of that.

If anything, it made me notice it more.

Now before someone assumes this is me pretending Oakland is perfect, let me stop you right there.

It’s not.

Oakland has challenges. Anyone who grew up there knows that. It’s not always the safest place. There are things that frustrate me. There are things I wish were different.

But loving a place doesn’t mean pretending it’s flawless.

I think sometimes people assume you have to choose between romanticizing your hometown or criticizing it.

I don’t really feel the need to do either.

I just miss mine.

I miss seeing familiar landmarks everywhere I go.

And being a short drive away from my parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

And hearing people casually mention neighborhoods and instantly knowing exactly where they’re talking about.

I miss the energy.

I miss the noise.

I miss the feeling of belonging somewhere without having to think about it.

When I got married and moved to San Jose, I expected the obvious changes. New routines. A new home. Learning a different city.

What I didn’t expect was the culture shock.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t surrounded by places attached to childhood memories. (Well, technically it’s the second time in my life, but that’s another story for another time.)

I thought I was just moving cities.

I didn’t realize I was leaving behind 23 years of familiarity.

That’s probably what I miss the most.

Familiarity.

These days, whenever I drive back to Oakland, I notice things I never paid attention to before. But Oakland still feels unmistakably like Oakland.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband. I love the life we’re building in San Jose. This move was part of a beautiful new chapter, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

But I’ve learned that two things can be true at the same time.

I can love where I am.

And I can miss where I came from.

That’s what I’ve been noticing lately.

The city may no longer be my address, but it will always be part of my story.

You can take the girl out of Oakland.

Oakland just has a funny way of staying with her.