Noura Bishay NPB Design Studio

Our day began in a spacious park with languid San Diegans sunbathing, eating, and conversing. As we started the tour, Noura led us past the beautiful old homes and vibrant storefronts. I was surprised that the hipsters and tourists seeking the “real” San Diego weren’t here doing their work at the cafes. This area had the slightly worn look and sense of authenticity that 20-somethings like me long to see.

It only took a few minutes for this potential millennial magnet to transform into a working-class community. The boutiques and breweries were replaced with discount markets and corner stores. The dollar tree we went into to buy water was packed with people buying groceries and other wares. Continuing our walk towards the bay, the frequency at which Noura commented on the conditions around us increased. Her passion and frustration at the state of living for the most vulnerable populations in San Diego grew as well. Noura pointed out the consequences of things I never noticed as an able-bodied student. The uneven sidewalks, unclear crossings, and parking curbs all posed threats to those who couldn’t see or move as easily as I could. Those living there who were able-bodied faced challenges too. The invisible pollution of cars and the proximity to the port hurt families and manifested itself through asthma. The sounds and smells of the recycling plant undoubtedly was a nuisance and possible hazard to the people close by.

Eventually, we arrived at Chicano Park. Tucked under highway overpasses, the park was continuously cool, dark, and dynamic. The onslaught of cars above us made changed the physical environment of the park itself. The artwork at Chicano park embodied the deep-rooted cultural importance and the incredible efforts of the local community. The art was an exaltation of resilience, of women, of families, and of the glory of past civilizations that were robbed from so many during the time of imperialism. It was powerful and disheartening at the same time. Murals of Cesar Chavez and great Aztec spirits loomed over the homeless lying on the ground trying to rest. The park was a reflection of the sheer determination and pride of the community, and it made me want to help in expanding those sentiments throughout the rest of the corridor.

We stopped for some paletas and fruits at a small store and continued on our way down the corridor. Approaching the Port of San Diego, the small homes with wire fences gave way to industrial buildings and shipping containers. Demarcations for crossing streets became even less clear. The spirit of the people who worked at this port,  typically Latinx and migrant workers, was nowhere to be found. The Cesar E. Chavez Park was a small plot of grass with two soccer nets. It was already after school, and only three little boys were there. As we walked down the pier in the sunlight, the affluent island of Coronado was right across from us. It was here where the tour ended, and it was here where I understood how important it was to make this side of the strait just as vibrant.