Tacoma is a personal Rorschach test. What you see depends on where you’re standing | Opinion

Cities tend to have a relatively definable shape. Many historic (or not so historic) metropolitan centers are approximately circular or squarish — most with some kind of center or urban core.

Tacoma’s shape, like everything else about the city, defies easy categorization.

We don’t have a central square or plaza. Instead, in virtually every aspect, from our tree canopy to the income distribution and political affiliations across the city, Tacoma is a swirling jumble of contradictions.

Tacoma’s geographic shape, and what we see from where we are, in many ways defines those of us who live here. It also determines, at least to some extent, how most of us think about the city.

Some of us have stunning views of sunrises over the mountains; others have sunset views along the water.

Some of us see historic buildings — or new ones under construction.

Some of us have green spaces nearby; others are in “food deserts” with no grocery stores for several miles.

Tacoma’s irregular, indefinable shape is like a geologic Rorschach test:

Where we are and what we see frames how we see a city whose name we share — even if it’s all we share.

I (heart) this city

Many cities have slogans or bumper stickers. Some feature phrases like “I (heart)” my city. Some residents of other places wear shirts proclaiming their undiluted love for their hometowns.

Few of us in Tacoma have such illusions. In fact, many of us still bask in the “undiscovered” vibe of Tacoma.

How many of us, when traveling far from here, reply “near Seattle” when asked where we are from?

It’s not that we’re ashamed of Tacoma; it is more like we want to keep Tacoma (largely) to ourselves.

Tacoma has, at best, an uneasy relationship with Seattle, which employs more effective marketing and has a worldwide presence. When it comes to metropolitan sibling relationships, Tacoma is often seen as the annoying little brother who clumsily tags along with the older kids.

It might be something like an act of courage to put into words our undying love for Tacoma. But many of us have chosen the City of Destiny — or somehow ended up here — after encountering other places.

Other cities might offer or promise more, but Tacoma is, to a large degree, still a place where visions and ideas, no matter how fantastic or humble, are allowed to take shape.

Tacoma is rarely a place where people go to “make it big,” but it’s often the place where being left alone, or being able to nurture a small community, leads to remarkable things.

From music to drinks to neighborhood-based events or markets, we make it happen.

Eye of the beholder

As in all things, Tacoma has its own vision – and its own unique expression of civic pride.

But, as with every aspect of life, nothing is as it was.

More and more, outsiders have discovered Tacoma. Much to their chagrin – and the chagrin of long-time locals — what they are “discovering” is that Tacoma is kind of an amazing place.

It’s not a big city, and it’s not a small town, which gives it a Goldilocks appeal — just right.

Tacoma is small enough to allow anyone in, and any one of us can participate and make a difference. It’s large enough to allow us to fade into the background when we want to. Any of us can be as public – or anonymous – as we would like.

Some local observers say that Tacoma has changed more in the past 10 years than in the previous 50 — or even 60.

From massive developments in every neighborhood to infill housing projects in historic areas, Tacoma, in every direction, looks little like it did just a few years ago.

Consider housing and other developments in South Tacoma, the Eastside, the Stadium District, Hilltop and along Sixth Avenue, among others.

From Link light rail to new schools to new accessory dwelling units and massive housing complexes, Tacoma’s face is changing.

While the shape of Tacoma hasn’t changed much, the city of today – from the sidewalks and landscape to where we live and work — is not the Tacoma many of us have long known.

Whether we see that as good or not so good is yet another Rorschach test.

Tacoma, as always, is a reflection of our own best and worst impulses.

Like every city, this one is what we make of it.

This oddly shaped city shapes us, and we, in return, shape it.

Tacoma’s Morf Morford is a writer, teacher, word nerd, 98% vegan, listener, community storyteller, poet and advocate of the oddities of earthly existence. He considers himself a scavenger of the unlikely.