Three generations, one Charleston

By Cassidy Stubbs

On a bright and humid day, the marsh air wraps around Charleston like a familiar hug. For people who have lived here their whole lives, and even for those who came later,  that warm and heavy breeze means something different to everyone.

For Lucy Arnold, 71, it carries the same feeling she remembers from childhood vacations. To Max Fortier, 26, it signals excitement and possibility. And for Angie Lindsey, 54, it has become a bittersweet reminder of a place that feels harder to hold onto.

Across generations, locals are watching Charleston grow and change, sometimes in ways that inspire, and sometimes in ways that hurt.

Lucy Arnold

Even though Arnold didn’t move to James Island until 2007, Charleston has always had a place in her life.

“What really makes it feel like home to me is that I can be me,” she said, explaining how the people and the community gave her a sense of belonging.

She describes Charleston as warm, kind, open, and accepting. Qualities she has felt since she first started visiting as a kid. For her, it’s that shared humanity that defines the city. She remembers after the Emanuel Church shooting Charleston united in grief.

“When the people from the Emanuel Church were shot and killed, the community came together, and you could feel the love and sadness,” she said. Holding onto that moment as proof of the city’s resilience.

For Lindsey, who grew up in West Ashley, that sense of home used to be stronger. Charleston was her whole world. The marshes, the quiet roads, the feeling that the city had its own sparkle, but now it feels like that version of Charleston is slipping away.

“Charleston no longer feels special to me anymore,” she said. The charm she grew up with is being replaced by crowds, traffic, and constant construction.

She still lives here because of her husband’s job, but she admits that once he retires, she’s thinking about leaving.

“Traffic and overbuilding on land that cannot handle all the new construction has encouraged me to move away from the Lowcountry," she added.

Angie Lindsey

Fortier is standing at a different point in life. He has found a sense of belonging in the Holy City's opportunities. At 26, he sees Charleston as a place full of energy and possibility.

“There is so much opportunity here,” he said. He dreams of owning a bar or restaurant one day, and he believes Charleston’s growth can support those goals. He describes himself as someone who takes pride in his work and enjoys doing things well.

“I like to do them well. I am open to new experiences,” he said, which is how he approaches the changes happening around him.

While all three see Charleston changing, their reactions reflect their different generations and experiences.

Arnold understands that growth is natural, but she can’t help feeling uneasy about its pace.

“Tourism has always been a part of Charleston,” she said, “but with the constant development, it takes away from the historical part of the city.”

The increase in population, especially from tourism and the people moving here because of it, makes it harder for locals to stay connected to what she calls Charleston’s “true self.”

Lindsey echoes that concern but feels it more sharply. As someone who has watched Charleston transform over decades, she believes the city’s growth has gone too far, too fast.

“We are stripping away at a great pace the charm of Charleston and the areas around it with uncontrolled growth,” she said.

For her, the city isn’t adapting, it’s being overwhelmed. What used to feel quiet and special now feels rushed and crowded.

Fortier sees the same development, but from a completely different angle. He sees opportunity in new projects, like the upcoming Union Pier redevelopment.

Max Fortier

“That whole port boardwalk project that is coming up, it’s going to be wild,” he said.

He believes changes like that will bring more entertainment, more infrastructure, and more ways for locals and tourists to connect with the city.

“People don't just book a hotel to walk around,” he said. “They want experiences.”

Still, Fortier knows growth has to be handled carefully, and despite his optimism, he does recognize the risks.

“If we do not provide the infrastructure it needs for all this growth, we are going to destroy what makes it special,” he said.

What makes Charleston meaningful, and what threatens it, depends on who you ask.

Arnold holds onto the city’s warmth and history, believing that the people who live here will continue to shape its spirit.

Fortier looks ahead, imagining a Charleston that’s more polished, more built up, and full of new possibilities.

Lindsey feels torn between the Charleston she remembers and the Charleston she sees now, hoping for a safer, calmer city even if she no longer feels rooted in it.

These three voices don’t tell one single story about Charleston. Instead, they show how one city can mean comfort, opportunity, or loss.

The marsh air that wraps around Charleston every day touches each of them differently. And through their experiences, a broader truth becomes clear.

Charleston is changing, but so are the people who call it home. What remains is the ongoing struggle to balance history with progress, charm with development, and personal memories with the city’s future.