When Dawn Valadez stepped into her new two-story loft in Oakland’s Jingletown neighborhood, a realization struck her with quiet force: For the first time in her 59 years, she would be living alone.
“I’d always lived with family or partners, roommates or my ex-husband and my kid, or my mom,” she said. “I love communal living.”
Born and raised in a cramped one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles with her parents and younger brother, Ms. Valadez never owned property until 1992, when she moved into her ex-husband’s family home in San Leandro.
“Even though I contributed to the purchase of that home, I didn’t fight for my half in our divorce,” said Ms. Valadez, who is the director of youth and artist development at BAVC Media in Oakland, as well as an independent filmmaker, producer and consultant. “Since then, I’ve never owned a home, nor do I have the resources or credit to own a home in the Bay Area.”
She then shared a 3,000-square-foot warehouse loft with two others in Jingletown for five years. She had not planned on leaving, but a post-pandemic fallout between her roommates and their landlord made staying untenable.
“I absolutely love Jingletown,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Nestled between the Coast Guard Island and the Fruitvale bridges, Jingletown carries a layered history. One theory is that Jingletown, once a manufacturing hub, got its name from the Portuguese laborers of the early 20th century who would jingle their coins after payday. Over the decades, the neighborhood has shape shifted — from an industrial corridor to a Latino stronghold, from gang territory to a flourishing arts district.
Today, murals stretch across entire blocks, mosaic art brightens building facades, and creativity spills into the streets. The Oakland Museum Women’s Board hosts its raucous White Elephant Sale here, while local artists showcase their work at Open Studios. Community efforts have turned intersections into living canvases, with flower beds and art installations designed to slow traffic. The Bay Trail, a 500-mile pedestrian and bike path spanning nine counties, cuts right through, threading the neighborhood to the waterfront.
$1,940 | Jingletown, Oakland, Calif.
Dawn Valadez, 59
Occupation: Filmmaker
On living alone: It’s already helping me creatively. I’m finding spaces to sink in and draw. I can leave things out and not feel like I have to ask permission to use public space because it’s all my space. A lot of the projects I’m working on are really emotionally intense and I’m really appreciating that I have enough alone time and alone space to express and feel my feelings. I don’t have to censor or explain myself. Living alone has meant I can work late into the night and wake up early.
What’s your next project: My last film, “The Pushouts,” was about interrupting the school-to-prison pipeline and understanding how young people, black and brown people, are being targeted and criminalized. Now I’m working on a film, currently called “Untitled Lorena,” about a mother and father who become activists when their 12 year-old daughter is brutally raped and murdered in Mexico. My friend Rodrigo Reyes asked me to co-direct with him. We’re hoping to complete it in 2026 for a 2027 release.
“I don’t have a car,” Ms. Valadez said. “So it’s really important I have access to transportation, that I can walk my dog and be in nature. I’m close to markets in Fruitvale and all the little shops in Alameda.”
Which meant that when she found herself crying outside her old loft — a place that had been more than just a home but also a creative hub for meetings, fund-raisers, protests and celebrations — her grief was about more than just losing a space. It was about losing a way of life.
Luckily, a neighbor who knew the landlord of a nearby building took her hand and led her a few blocks to what would soon become her new home. “It wasn’t even posted, wasn’t even on the market yet!” Ms. Valadez recalled.
Last July, she moved into the 1,000-square-foot unit, part of a remodeled factory with 12 residences. The space offers soaring ceilings and an open floor plan bathed in natural light. The first floor blends kitchen, dining, and living spaces, with a bathroom tucked away. Upstairs, a bedroom and a spacious office overlook it all. Out back, residents share a lush communal garden with lounge furniture, plants and room for creative projects.
“As a filmmaker, I need space to envision my projects,” Ms. Valadez said. “I need to see the trajectory of the narrative, to have room to create large storyboards. I wanted a place that felt homey and comfy but could hold my art, too.”
Her home is a curated collection of souvenirs from her travels, artworks by friends, and memorabilia. Moving in required help from 25 friends. Despite the mountain of things, Ms. Valadez has deliberately left one big wall bare — for film projections.
“I like to entertain, but I also need a sense of sanctuary, to feel safe,” she said. “Let’s face it, I’m a little anxious. I grew up with a baseball bat under my bed, so sometimes at night, the noises can be a little scary.”
But even on her first night in the new space, she found herself sleeping soundly. “I got to know my neighbors right away, and we have a very communal approach here.”
Most of the other tenants, she quickly realized, were women with dogs. “I can get help if I need anything,” she said. “Like, recently, we had a tsunami warning, and it was good to feel I wasn’t alone.”
Her son, Rigo Valadez-Bigler, recently visited and couldn’t be happier for his mother and her dog, Chuy.
“I’m really excited for her and Chuy to have that space to themselves,” he said. “It’s a great spot in the same great neighborhood. And knowing my mom, she’s always got people coming by, so she’s never really alone.”
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