Be From Somewhere

Last month we moved across the country. Again. For the third time. In like three years. 

Me, the husband, two dogs and a very, very, very old and smelly cat, moved from Pittsburgh to Boise and I can literally see your facial expressions right now and hold that thought. 

When I was telling people we were getting ready to move I got so. Many. Eye rolls. Curled lips. Sneers.  From the incredulous “What’s in Boise?”  to the pitying “oh, that sucks” or the disdainful “Boise? Ew. On Purpose?”. 

Yes. On purpose.

So what’s in Boise? My husband’s promotion where he can meet career goals* and more of the PAC Northwest lifestyle that we like. Some of the sneers and the eye rolls I got were from life-long Pittsburghians, to which I say be careful what yinz sneer at. 

A lot of the sneers and eye rolling wasn’t at the fact that I’m basically a professional nomad and incapable of holding my life in one place for more than 18 months at a time, which is admittedly troubling if you’re the rooted sort, it was that most detractors seemed to think that Boise is a lame place where people ride horses to work and use potatoes as money.

 Which is a totally stupid thing to say. They don’t ride horses to work. They use real money like everyone else and they ride potatoes to work. Don’t be classist and rude.

Ever been to New Jersey? No? But I bet you have opinions about New Jersey. Ever been to Nebraska? No? I’ll bet you have opinions about Nebraska. The same for inner city Detroit and uptown Manhattan. 

Before I spill all the tee, I have to acknowledge that yes, while moving itself is a hardship and a giant pain in the ass, we’ve been privileged to be able to move for better opportunities and see a lot of the US because of it.

And because of that privilege, I’m here to tell you the following:

Stop thinking certain geographic locations have more merit or are somehow “cooler” and therefore make the person living there or from there “more cool.” Cool is not a real thing that exists in the US. Poverty is. Because in all my extensive traveling of the US, that’s what I’ve seen the most. Poverty. 

I have lived places I did not like living because of cost, the economy, or literally the weather. I have lived places that I liked but couldn’t sustain living there because of the cost of living, economy, or literally the weather. I had good experiences in towns I hated. I had terrible experiences in places I loved. A lot of factors can play a role in how we perceive a place. Because of things like in-group/out-group and tribalism, and literally our own ingrained beliefs of better/best based on a lifetime of being swatted around by capitalism, imperialism, manifest destiny, and media portrayal, places we’ve never been have more merit than even our own hometowns. Manhattan is superior to Kansas City. California is better than Iowa. If I ask you to picture a waitress from Brooklyn, you’re probably picturing a likeably annoying Lena Dunham type who is just waiting for her pilot to get picked up by Hulu. If I asked you to picture a waitress from Kansas, is it the same girl with the same dreams? Probably not.

That waitress from Brooklyn is probably more interesting than a farmer from Missouri , because farming is only interesting if it involves smuggling black tar heroin in cows butts or something. I don’t know, I didn’t watch Ozark. 

With the democratic debates kicking up steam, there are all these think pieces coming out about What’s Wrong With America and How To Fix America like there’s this reset switch under the constitution and we’re all waiting for the Chosen One (you know the chosen one is 100% Nicolas Cage) to come and flip it. 

There is no chosen one.

Nobody’s coming to save us. 

We’re trapped in this plummeting elevator together and if we all jump just before it crashes we’re still going to get crushed. 

Waiting until the last minute to wake up to reality isn’t going to fix things. 

The reality, as I’ve seen it driving across the country three times, is this:

Be from somewhere else. Leave your fishbowl of a city or tiny home town (yes, even cities can be fishbowls). Where you come from geographically does not make you better or more worthy of coolness. Also, sidetrack: I’m willing to go on a limb and shit on my generation a tiny bit in that millennials, on the cusp of middle-age, are still way too worried about being cool.

We stopped for gas in Utah and my hair was sticking out in this giant matted half bun, half dreadlock situation from falling asleep with my head against the seat, my face was puffy and I smelled like trucker farts and every single thing I was self conscious or worried about fluttered around me like flies. I look like boiled shit, I’m tired, I don’t know where I am, and I have to go function for five seconds to buy gas and I don’t want to function right now because everybody in this tiny gas station is going to judge me for looking like a flaming outhouse. 

Then I had the dumbest thought on the planet. 

“I’m from New York. I bet these dumb motherfuckers have never even left the state. I can look like boiled shit if I want to. Because I’m cultured.”

Each time I move across the country I’m reminded about how little I’ve grown and how little I understand the world.

Then somebody with alarming eyebrows and tarnished facial piercings asks me oh my god, how could you move to such a small-minded place? How could you move to a place so devoid of art, culture, and like, meaning?  or someone with YeeYee bumper sticker tries to warn me about weirdos in the big city and I feel better about where I’m at as a person.

I can’t stress enough: Be from somewhere else. Travel if you can. See something that isn’t a corporately owned amusement park, talk to people who have different ideas than you. The world is bigger and smaller than we think and we can’t fix the big things until we’re willing to fix ourselves.

Be from somewhere else. 

*His career goals involve literally saving the planet and preserving water during a climate crisis so when the water wars start, I’ll remember those of you who sneered at the QUEEN OF WATER. Good luck washing your taints now, you smug doubters. I did always want to be Tank Girl.