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