Why venturing beyond your comfort zone is key to understanding Los Angeles

Los Angeles, a city often defined by its distinct neighborhoods, can encourage its residents to stay within familiar boundaries. This tendency to seek out only places that reflect one's own identity can lead to a narrowed perception of the city and oneself, according to writer Mary Dahm.

"We sort ourselves into Eastsiders and Westsiders, then regard crossing La Brea as an invitation to be lobotomized," Dahm writes. While logistical challenges like limited public transit can contribute to this, the primary driver is often a comfort in places that confirm our existing self-image.

Dahm shares a personal anecdote about a Friday night invitation to a bar in West Hollywood, an area her Silver Lake-based friend dismissed as "not really my scene." This common sentiment, Dahm argues, limits both individual experience and the understanding of a diverse city.

"There is pleasure in playing outside our sandbox," she notes. Dahm recounts an experience at a hotel bar in West Hollywood where she encountered a group of men involved in the exotic car industry. Despite initial assumptions about their "scene," she found herself engaged in lively conversation, sharing stories and enjoying their camaraderie. These interactions highlighted their genuine affection for each other and their effortless social interaction, offering a contrast to what she perceived as a potential lack of swagger in her more intellectual Eastside social circles.

This experience, and others like it, have led Dahm to embrace a less culturally consistent approach to her life in Los Angeles. She now moves between different types of social gatherings, from academic lectures and poetry readings to visiting "sceney" hotel bars and Koreatown dives. She notes, "I discovered I like sceney hotel bars and Koreatown dives. I became a regular at academic lectures and poetry readings."

This willingness to step outside of one's perceived "scene" is not about changing fundamental aspects of oneself but rather about expanding one's experiences. "I don’t need the Ferrari dealers to develop strong opinions about the future of independent bookselling. I don’t need the poets to start playing golf," she explains. "I like different things about both."

Dahm concludes that the mistake is not in finding one's community, but in expecting that community to fulfill all one's needs. As she puts it, "At some point, knowing exactly who you are starts to limit who else you can be." She advocates for complicating one's world rather than simplifying it, suggesting that the true value of living in a large, complex city like Los Angeles lies in becoming harder to summarize, not easier.

"When we stay in our neighborhoods, it becomes merely a mirror. Ourselves reflected back at us wherever we go. I prefer the funhouse version," Dahm writes, encouraging readers to embrace the unexpected connections and self-discoveries that come from venturing beyond their comfort zones.