That Small-Town Feeling

I went on a bit of a rant this week on social media. Not an angry yelling kind of rant.

Just a rant.

Because I got a glimpse into my hometown. I got on Facebook for the first time in ages. Why? I always regret it.

I couldn't exactly tell you why I regretted it before. I just knew it left me with a gross sinking pit in my stomach. What was that feeling? Why did Facebook bring it up?

That feeling is shame. Shame and anger wrapped up with a sense of longing. Longing for a time when I felt connected with my community and my family.

I don't anymore. 

My Facebook is my hometown. It's full of family members, schoolmates, people from church and work that I used to feel close to.

It's a reminder of what most of them are thinking. What they think about politics, god, and people like me.

Atheist.

Feminist.

Liberal.

It's not just Facebook. It's being told that I'm everything that is wrong with our country by my own grandfather. It's being judged and treated differently when you politely decline invitations to church or bring up Black History and Women's History months. It's people talking about people of color in derogatory ways and expecting that you believe the same things they do. It's listening to people blame the working poor or the people on welfare for our country's economic issues instead of the billionaires and corporations that don't pay taxes. It's hearing people who call themselves godly revere Trump when he calls Mexicans rapists, puts children in cages, sexually assaults women, and does nothing but lie. It's hearing people who call themselves godly demean people of color, women, and the poor instead of doing what their Jesus would do. It's having to call my own family out for all the sexist and racist things that they say. And feeling like it isn't doing any good. 

I have become an outsider. I used to be the good, quiet, non-political, religious girl that they could be proud of. 

But I'm not anymore. 

I don't feel connected to my hometown. I don't feel connected to many of the people there, including my own family. It's like my roots have been pulled up from under me and shaken over my head. Where do you belong? Where will you end up? Who will love you for who you truly are?

I've outgrown that area. I can't make myself fit there like a jagged puzzle piece. Cutting out pieces of myself to fit. 

I want to feel connected with people who see the world I do. People who believe in social justice and empathy. People who don't have their noses pressed so far up White Jesus's ass that they can't see that they are nothing like the real Jesus. People who choose the good of society over the rights of the individual. 

I think that our families expect that we'll end up back home when Brandon retires. That's such a long way off that I can't make guarantees or plans. But I do know that the small-town I grew up in doesn't fit me anymore. And I'm not sure I want it to.