By Gabriel Solis
The offices of the Collegiate are located on the third floor of Raleigh J. Finkelstein Hall on GRCC’s Grand Rapids campus. We are in the heart of the city’s downtown area. Like so many of those who live, work, or study here, the constant vibrancy and movement of the city are so much a part of our daily routine that we don’t even tend to think about it.
I do not include myself in this category. At the time of writing, I have lived in the greater Grand Rapids area for all of a month and a half. Most of my life was spent in the one-stoplight town of Grayling, Michigan. About 1,800 people resided within the city limits, the majority of whom were dispersed among the woods and the back country. The complexity, culture, and scale of this city, larger than the one I came from by a literal hundredfold, create an environment that, while alluring, is altogether foreign to me.
This is true in the most complex and in the simplest of ways. For example: sheer convenience.
The accessibility of this area is unparalleled by anything I’ve ever experienced. Some aspects of this are simple and novel. My very first night in my apartment, I took immense pleasure in ordering DoorDash. It sounds incredibly trivial, and in fact it is, but the act of pressing a button on my phone and finding food to have magically appeared on my doorstep brought me an almost childlike sense of enjoyment. And on the topic of novelty, the existence of Lime scooters continues to baffle me. They’re convenient and efficient, but so conceptually strange that I can’t help but scratch my head at the fact that they were ever successfully implemented.
A lot of the culture shock comes from silly things like that. In all seriousness, however, the infrastructure that has allowed those things to thrive is also incredibly beneficial to the city and its residents. For a slightly less trivial example of this, take the bus system. According to MDOT, the Rapid transit system was used by over 6.4 million people in 2024. This number includes over a quarter million passengers who are living with a disability. People rely on the buses to get to and from work, school, the grocery store, etc, every single day. This enables those who may not have access to other modes of transportation an easier time earning their paychecks, keeping their pantries stocked, and living their lives. The fact that this level of accessibility to basic needs is facilitated by the city is a truly remarkable thing, and one that would be considered unthinkable where I come from.
This constant accessibility also lends itself to a sense of shared culture and community. Personally, I’m used to several-mile-long stretches of road between any hint of civilization. This city could not be further on the other end of the spectrum. Access to the entire area means constant opportunities for exploration and discovery. In my hometown, every establishment is a fixture of the community, and every time a new one opens up, it’s considered a major event. They all have their regulars, and inevitably, they all tend to scoff at those who don’t fit the type of their usual clientele. Here, you can stumble into a hole in the wall and be served the best food you’ve ever tasted, or happen into a used book store and find a worn-out volume you’ve always wanted to own, and be welcomed into a community you never knew existed. You can become part of these places and make them part of you.
These communities are rarely hurting for membership, so to speak. The presence of others is a given in any situation. This was another shock factor for me. There are always, always, always people, no matter where you go. You can walk into a coffee shop at three in the morning (a fact that in itself is a bizarre concept to me) and you will never be the only one there. Some might find this to be intrusive – I find the opposite. When I stop in at 3 a.m., armed with a book or a notepad or a laptop, and the room is filled with people doing the same, I am immensely comforted by the knowledge that I am in similar company. One person may have grown up down the street, another somewhere around the world, but in that moment, we are all living the same experience. This, my favorite thing about our city, is a distillation of my favorite thing about our world: that you are never alone. Grand Rapids is Michigan’s second-largest city, and as such is a cacophonic blend of backgrounds, identities, ideas, and cultures. I pass people on the sidewalk speaking different languages. Our streets are lined with restaurants and shops of every conceivable variety, modeled in every conceivable form of architecture. Our museums house art from all over the world. But when we interact with one another, when we converse together, laugh together, exist together, our cultures and experiences bleed into one: the human experience. In this place, you can be anything you want to be, live any life you want to live. And humanity is never in short supply.
