Growing up in rural West Virginia, I was convinced that 85 - 90% of the population was absolutely insane. Living there, I ran into daily occurrences of racism, misogyny, homophobia, and blind fundamentalism that would curdle milk. The state voted solidly Democrat (WV was one of only five states that voted for Michael Dukakis), but most of its residents were extremely socially conservative. Christianity was the only religion, the Second Amendment was held up as a standard for living, women were second-class citizens, African Americans were never called that and were barely tolerated (much less anyone of any other race), members of the military were uniformly worshiped as heroes (NO MATTER WHAT), and there was simply no such thing as gay.
After spending my childhood as "the weird smart girl," in high school, I further alienated myself. Not only did I not play (or like) sports, not only did I read books, not only did I do well in school, not only did I enjoy writing and art, I then made the terrible choice, as a Caucasian female, to date African American males. That didn't go over well.
I was harassed on an almost daily basis, by both enemies and friends. One fellow student told me that she thought interracial dating just wasn't right. When I said, "Your boyfriend is Vietnamese," she said, "That's different." A "friend" sent me a letter telling me that she didn't agree with what I was doing, it was awful, but she'd pray for my everlasting soul because she was a good Christian and she didn't want me to burn in hell. And this treatment was not only by people my age--teachers made snide comments to me and ignored verbal abuse that happened right in front of them. Another friend invited me out for dinner for her birthday; her mother spent the entire dinner haranguing me about being a bad daughter and a bad person. I was brought in by the pastor of the church I belonged to for "conferences," in which I was told that interracial dating was just wrong, wrong, wrong. The best answer I received was that God commanded that we not be "unequally yoked." Which only said to me that God didn't think everyone was equal, and that was not a god I wanted to believed in.
And it wasn't as if I had a haven to run home to after all of this. My father was oblivious to everything--everything--I did, so he wasn't the issue. No, my mother was. My mother and I had always been extremely close, as close to best friends as possible, and I'd always been a "good" kid. (Even with all of this, I was my class's valedictorian, the president of the National Honor Society, and on the state level of a charitable organization.) But my dating habits drove a deep spike in our relationship, because my mother, who had graduated from high school before Integration, thought it was Just Wrong. She couldn't ever give me a good reason why it was Just Wrong. It was Just . . . Wrong. And the abuse I received at school translated at home to alternating periods of cold, stony silence and violent outbursts and cruel insults.
All of this led to me hating my high school, hating 98% of the people in my town, and wanting to get the hell out of this shithole and never look back. I still loved my mother . . . but for the last year I was at home and the first year after I left, it was hard to like her. I forgave her in later years, but with the knowledge that we would never, ever agree with one another.
I went to Virginia Tech, and I was ready to start over. I left a tiny school (400 people total, 85 in my graduating class) and a tiny town (2,000 at the most), where everyone, for better or worse, knew me, and went to a large school (28,000 students), where no one knew me. And I loved that. I loved the anonymity. I wanted to remake myself. No one knew me. I could be anyone I wanted to be.
Best of all, I thought, I am in a new place, where everyone is open-minded and tolerant. No one here could possibly be racist or homophobic or misogynistic. Everyone was equal, and everyone believed in and supported that equality. Only in my hometown, only in West Virginia, did those things exist. Everywhere else in the whole world was progressive.
Wow, was I wrong.
I learned pretty quickly that that was not the case. It didn't make me love my hometown any more than I had; I didn't have any "Aw, we're just like everyone else, only with a small-town sensibility!" revelation. No, I just became convinced that Virginia Tech was in a beautiful, pastoral place, that was still filled with morons. I loved Virginia Tech, loved my four years there. I made wonderful, amazing friends, and still think of that time, 15 years after graduation, as the best time of my life.
Even though I found out that idiots were there, too.
But then I moved to an even BIGGER place. I went to the University of South Carolina for graduate school, and I thought that, finally, now that I was in an even larger place, there was more of a chance that people would be tolerant, open-minded, blah blah blah.
I know, you're laughing at me. I laugh now, thinking about how naive I was. I've always thought of myself as a pessimist, but I suppose I really am a hopeless dreamer.
I moved to Columbia, South Carolina with only the very best of intentions and hopes and dreams. I believed that I was going to go there and have a great life, meet interesting, worldly people, and find myself. Maybe I'd even meet the man I'd marry.
Well, part of it was true. I met interesting, worldly people. I met the man I later married. And I found myself.
But I consider it a minor miracle.
I happened to find, through the Art Bar, a collection of people who were Just Like Me. It was a miracle. Especially because I'm pretty sure we were the only people in the entire state who didn't have to look left to see Hitler. Well, that's not true. I know of a few other people who lived in other parts of the state who weren't unbelievably racist, utterly misogynistic, completely homophobic, and blindly fundamentalist. But not many.
I lived in Columbia for 13 years, and I met some of the best friends I've ever had, or ever will have. I met my beloved husband there. I had some good times. I found wonderful places to go, and fun things to do.
But I did not leave South Carolina with the best overall impression. In fact, by the time we left, I just wanted everyone I knew there to move with us, to save them.
We moved to Fairfax, Virginia because I got a job in the area. (I seemed incapable of buying a job in Columbia.) And, because I'm stupid, I believed that Virginia would be different. This part of it, anyway, as it's 10 miles from the liberal bastion of Washington, DC.
Well, for a while, it was like that, and then this happened.
Oh, Virginia.
I'd hoped you wouldn't be insane.
No comments:
Post a Comment