Betwixt and Between: Denison to Vanderbilt

One of my college professors posted this article on Facebook the other day:

http://auntiebellum.org/mag/coding-white-trash-in-academia/

I loved this article because I resonated with it SO MUCH. It describes living in two different worlds and feeling as though you do not belong in either. Let me explain, and please hear me out and note my nuances; I think that both worlds are uniquely beautiful AND difficult in different ways. 

I grew up in Denison, a small town in western Iowa with a population of approximately 7,000. Now, let me be clear- Denison is NOT a suburb. It wasn’t as though I lived in this cute little town on the outskirts of a city. No, the nearest “city” was either Omaha or Sioux City, and both of those were an hour and half away. Denison was its own small island.

What was it like growing up here? I can remember when McDonald’s first came to Denison, and it was a BIG deal. It felt like we were finally becoming a real city! And then, a couple of years later, Burger King showed up, and it felt like we were living the high life.

There wasn’t a whole lot to do for teenagers. Some of my friends DID live on farms, and I can remember living into the ultimate hick stereotype as we attempted to go “cow tipping.” Many people would engage in underage drinking on gravel roads and the countryside as a way of passing the time and finding adventure. Thankfully, I was pretty involved in sports, so that took up a significant amount of my energy. It also took up a LOT of the town’s time and investment. I can remember feeling as though the whole world hinged on whether or not the varsity made it to the state tournament in a given sport. Indeed, the most effective way to feel as though you were “somebody” and “worthy” in Denison was to be notable in sports.

Main Street in Denison

There weren’t many professional jobs in town. The majority of the economy was based on the three packing plants; in fact, my own father worked for Farmland. He was the “inventory control manager.” I would surmise that my family grew up “lower middle class.” We always had enough to eat, and we were able to participate in sports, go to movies, go out eat occasionally, etc. However, my dad DID work 3 jobs, my sisters and I shared everything, and there wasn’t enough for us to have much extra or anything nice. The second that we graduated from high school, all of the Dissident Daaughters were cut off from any financial assistance from our parents. We had to figure it out ourselves.

I’m not sure if my perspective is a bit jaded in hindsight, but the town felt like it had a negative attitude. For example, it was (and still is) incredibly racist. We had a significant influx of Hispanic immigration that began when I was in middle school. I’m too embarrassed to even TYPE some of the comments that people made about this phenomenon. We’re not talking about subtle and implicit racist comments; we are talking about very explicit and hateful remarks. Additionally, it felt as though everyone was competing with one another all the time. It appeared that parents were continually living vicariously through their children and basing their own self-worth on their children’s success- particularly through sports. I’m certain this phenomenon happens in cities as well, but it seemed as though it were magnified in the small town of Denison because it was the ONLY avenue for parents to obtain any type of positive affirmation.

Now, don’t get me wrong- there were also many beautiful aspects of growing up in Denison. Because the town was so small, many of us had an incredible amount of freedom- even at a young age. I can remember staying home alone with my sister starting around 7-8 years old. We had the freedom during the summer to use our imaginations; we devised our own games and fun through our own creativity. We would go to the library, grocery store, and swimming pool all by ourselves. We learned how to make Kool-Aid and macaroni and cheese. Sometimes Most of the time, it felt as though we essentially raised ourselves. I am forever grateful that this freedom instilled in me a sense of imagination and responsibility that I cherish to this day.

So let’s fast forward several years. I graduate from Simpson College, and I apply to 3 different schools for my Master’s Degree. I can still vividly remember that incredible day in February when I received a phone call from the admissions director at Vanderbilt Divinity School. She called to tell me that I was not only accepted into the divinity school, they were going to give me a FULL RIDE with a STIPEND for their three year Master of Divinity program. Vanderbilt….was going to pay for me to go to their school. I can still remember trembling as I hung up the phone with the admissions director; I had just received a full ride to one of the most prestigious schools in the country.

The Vanderbilt Logo

Naturally, going to Vanderbilt was a culture shock. Vanderbilt is located in the heart of Nashville, Tennessee. So not only did I have to adjust to the culture of a prestigious university, I also had my first experience of southern living. I felt like such a fish out of water when I arrived, and although I learned to adapt in my 3 years there, I never felt like I truly fit into this environment. Indeed, I even graduated near the top of my class, but intellectual prowess was not enough to make up for the cultural gap between myself and the school.

Everyone dressed sooo nice at Vanderbilt. In Iowa, when we go to football games, we wear our Hawkeye or Cyclone sweatshirts. If we’re feeling really crazy, we may even add some black or gold beads to our outfits. However, at SEC football games, the women wear sundresses and the men wear slacks/ties. At that point in my life, I don’t think that I even OWNED a sundress, much less wore one to a football game. I could not believe the amount of nice clothes the women owned and how effortlessly they seemed to put them together.

Students at Vandy DID tend to have significant privilege and affluence; very few of them needed to work. Instead, they had the luxury of spending time with their studies, extracurricular activities, and pursuing key internships. I worked in an office that helped coordinate internships, and I remember feeling shocked at how many students could afford to have unpaid internships. In fact, one of my responsibilities was to help organize a summer internship program in Washington DC. This was a very competitive program at Vanderbilt. Students would have an internship in Washington DC with various non-profit agencies and congressional offices, and they would be exposed to Vanderbilt’s vast networking resources. Students had to pay to have this internship- on top of the expense of living in DC- and they would not be paid for a single cent of their work. I could not fathom how many students could afford to do this. When I was an undergraduate student, I worked 2-3 jobs every summer, and I literally would not have had enough to eat if I did not do so.

This internship program in DC always hired a staff member to be on site during the summers and help supervise the students. They usually wanted a graduate student to have this short-term position- someone that was young, unattached, familiar with working with students, etc. It seemed like I would be a great candidate for this position. However, when I went into the interview for this position, I still remember the exact moment that I realized just HOW out of place I was in this environment. The interviewers asked me what type of connections I already had in Washington DC and how I would use those connections to help the students. I felt deep shame and embarrassment when I heard this question. Of course I didn’t have any connections in our nation’s capital- I had moved from Iowa to Tennessee, and I was only 24 years old!!! However, that didn’t matter. There were other graduate students at Vandy that were my age that DID have those connections. Despite the fact that we were the same age at the same school, these other graduate students clearly had experiences, resources, and connections that I did not. Needless to say, I did NOT get the job.

There was another experience at Vandy that was also
incredibly shame filled. I was talking with some

Seriously, the campus is gorgeous. And check
out the Nashville skyline behind the university...

of my work supervisors about one of our programs, and I said a word that was not considered politically correct. I didn’t know at the time that it wasn’t considered politically correct. I…simply didn’t know. Maybe I was stupid, maybe it was my hick upbringing, I don’t know. For whatever reason, I said this word that was not politically correct, and I was completely shamed for it. Both of my supervisors – instead of gently educating me with the more befitting language- jumped all over me about my use of this word. They questioned my sensitivity to others, my ability to work with their program, etc. all because I had said the wrong word. Again, I felt incredible guilt and shame when this occurred. I have always, always been incredibly sensitive, and I am very concerned with how my words affect others. To hear my supervisors deride me for my word choice was incredibly painful. I felt stupid, and I felt like a bad person.

During my last year of Vandy, my car decided to break down in every way possible. The catalytic converter blew up, the timing belt was done-zo, and a couple of other things exploded. When it was all said and done, I had managed to rack up $3000 worth of car maintenance in approximately one week. Now, I WAS receiving that small stipend from Vandy, and I did have a graduate assistantship on campus. And those thankfully covered my living expenses, but it was not enough for a $3000 car payment. So I did the only thing I could- I got yet another job. I got a job as a pizza delivery driver. Here I was- a year from receiving my Master’s degree from Vanderbilt University- and I was having to work almost 40 hours a week on TOP of going to school full time. And one of those jobs was as a pizza delivery driver. I had to put up with delivering to dangerous Nashville neighborhoods, people assuming I was stupid because I worked in food service, and with men continually hitting on me. How the hell was I this close to my degree and having to put up with this shit?

Welcome to living betwixt and between. An Iowa transplant at Vanderbilt.

When I finally graduated from my 3-year program at Vanderbilt, I had a choice of where I wanted to go next. I could have stayed in Nashville and worked as a chaplain in their hospital system, or I could go back to Iowa and work in Des Moines. I was offered a position in both places. A part of me felt like I “should” stay in Nashville. I mean, let’s be real- Nashville has some of THE best health care in the United States; Vanderbilt Medical Center is one of the top 10 hospitals in the country. I would have been a part of a team that was delivering cutting edge care to patients. From a professional perspective, staying in Nashville would have been the more advantageous choice.

But I couldn’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t keep living like this- feeling like I was trying SO HARD to adapt to a place that was never going to completely fit or feel right. And once I accepted the position in Des Moines at Iowa Methodist Medical Center, I felt such an incredible sense of relief. It was as though the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders. I was coming home.

And so- I’ve actually lived in Des Moines ever since I moved back from Nashville in 2012. As many of you know, I’ve since completed my chaplain residency position at Methodist hospital, and I now work full time as a bereavement coordinator for UnityPoint Hospice. I also teach as an adjunct instructor for Simpson College. If you read the original article I posted, the author describes how difficult it is for him to feel as though he fully belongs in either world. I still feel that way, although living in Des Moines and working for hospice/Simpson has been the best way for me to balance my “hick” upbringing and my academic leanings.

Yup. I totally did that. Kinda of low, even for me.

There IS a part of me that is still trashy. Reframe it if you want- call it “authentic,” say I’m “down to earth,” or whichever adjective gives you the most comfort. I’m strong and intelligent, and I could use a different word if I desired. Right now, however, I’m going to go ahead and call myself a bit white trash. Here’s a good example. Fellow Dissident Daughter, Molly, got married in the Virgin Islands last May. I didn’t have the time or desire to buy a garment bag before we flew out, so instead, I concocted my own garment bag to transport my dress. Get this- I literally taped two garbage bags together WITH DUCT TAPE for my handmade garment bag. Adds a bit of a literal layer to my self-proclamation of “trashy,” doesn’t it?

Here’s another example. I totally go into Starbucks on a regular basis without wearing a bra while wearing ratty gym clothes. Now, for some of my Midwestern readers, this won’t seem that trashy, because this occurrence isn’t THAT atypical for Midwesterners (I’m sure some of my Midwestern readers often do this themselves!) But you would NOT do that in Nashville. You just wouldn’t. In fact, I rarely saw people out in any type of gym clothes, much less ratty gym clothes without a bra. You would get some pretty pointed stares and whispers if you did this. But I LIKE being able to do this in Des Moines. I like not having to put on airs. I like feeling comfortable. I dress up enough for work and have to be “on” enough during the weekdays that I like letting myself go on the weekends. I like…having some time to be trashy.

And yet- despite my innate ‘trashiness’- I definitely do not fit into the world of Denison anymore. I still LOVE sports, but I could not live in a world where the rise of the sun depends on the success of the high school varsity team. And KNOW that this next part sounds elitist- believe I’m more than aware- but I could not go back to a town where the majority of the population is uneducated. There are definitely some people in the town that have undergraduate and even graduate level educations, but this number is growing smaller as job opportunities decrease. I find myself automatically correcting people’s grammar as they talk, and I also myself frustrated by the narrow experience they bring to the table. It’s particularly aggravating when this narrow experience manifests itself as explicit hatred against minorities. Again, before some of you go after me with pitchforks, I’m not saying that everyone in the town is uneducated, nor am I saying that they have no valuable experience. Believe me, I’m not that much of an elitist liberal (and in fact, I find myself increasingly irritated with elitist liberal worldviews). I’m saying that I have had different type of experience than many of the people in the town, and this does not provide much ground for deep connection.

And so I stay in Des Moines where I try and balance both worlds. I do the occasional trashy thing as I noted above, but I am also deeply satisfied by the intellectual stimulation I receive. On the one hand, I work in hospice where I meet an incredibley diverse number of people and hear amazing stories. And on the other hand, I work for Simpson, and I challenge students to question, analyze, and think deeper about life’s most difficult issues. Moreover, I’m very fortunate that I have a decent number of friends that resonate with the struggle I just described. For example, one of my friends grew up as a farmer’s daughter in southern Iowa. She went to college, lived in the Dominican Republic for a couple of years for the Peace Corps, and she just graduated law school. Connection is a beautiful thing, and I love that I have found others that oscillate between the worlds I described.

In the end, I firmly want readers to know that there isn’t one world that is better than the other. Places like Denison and Vanderbilt BOTH have their unique beauty and challenges. Honestly, I think my sincerest wish is that the two worlds would have more bridges between them and that they could talk and learn from one another. I’m thankful that I have had both in my life, and I’m grateful I’ve found a place where I can try to combine (what I think is the best) of both of them.

Where do YOU find yourself betwixt and between? And how do you balance it?