For my Advanced Writing course, I had to write "a vignette, a story or scene that captured a small truth or insight". You have no idea how hard it was for me to figure out what I was going to write about. The example paper we were given was about a crazy uncle but our professor said we could write about anything really. You see, I love blogging because I do get to write about anything- but I only like getting to write anything on my blog. When it comes to school writing, I like to have direction and structure. For this reason, I will probably never take a creative writing course. Anyways, I decided to share it because I am pretty proud of it, and that's what this blog is for, right? Since moving up here to Boulder this past week, introductions are a daily occurrence. You know the basics- Hannah, IPHY major, from Highlands Ranch, living in Smith. Every time the words "Highlands Ranch" came out of my mouth, people would reply back, "Oh you're from Highlands Ranch?", almost rolling their eyes. Just another rich white kid. If only they knew I am SO much more than where I came from. So here is my insight, my small truth.
I was raised in a little suburban bubble where nearly every kid gets a car on their 16th birthday, mothers wear high end workout clothes everyday, even when they don’t actually work out, and from a young age we are taught that if you are walking in a parking lot past 10pm, you should be afraid for your life. It’s a homogenous pool of white, Christian, Republican families who are financially comfortable, at the very least. You will see young kids playing with the latest of gadgets as they sit in their mother’s carts at Target, as they avoid being home so the cleaning lady can clean and if you venture into certain subdivisions, you will indeed see neighbors driving around on golf carts when there is no golf course to be found for miles. There are not any white picket fences even though people might love to put on that illusion. It’s my little Mayberry, my safety net, my home.
It wasn’t until I had moved away that I discovered how many people had such negative preconceived notions about where I grew up and what kind of person I would be because of it. Sure, there were a few remarks here and there when I would go elsewhere, but they were few and sporadic. I knew that I was very fortunate in the amount of opportunity I had because of where I grew up, but I never once took that for granted. I always counted it as one of my biggest blessings to live in a wonderful, safe town. The second I tell people where I am from, their tone of voice will change and they look at me a little differently. It is as if they think that all that I need in life is simply handed to me on a silver platter. I did not know that it was ranked as one of the richest counties in the United States. I did not choose to be born into a stable family. I did not choose where I lived for my childhood. I did not choose the life that I was given, so why am I judged by it?
Just because I lived in this place where life seemed to be “easy” does not mean I was raised with an entitled disposition. While yes, I have been fortunate enough to go to Europe and have nice clothes and live an opportunous life, above all else I was taught that I had to work hard for anything I wanted in life. I babysit, my brother mows lawns, and all of us kids are required to help around the house, doing what seems like a superfluous amount of chores. Much to my sister and I’s dismay, my mom does not just buy us new clothes whenever we would like. We limit the number of times we go out to dinner to usually about once a week and do not go on lavish vacations every summer. The car I drive was my dad’s old car and I occasionally pay for my own gas. My mother wears work out clothes in the morning when she does Crossfit, then professional attire during the day; she’s a teacher. I bought my own iPad with money I had accumulated from babysitting over a few months. We don’t have a cleaning lady; we clean the house every Friday afternoon as a family. The only place I have ever driven a golf cart is on a golf course. But alright, I do admit that I hate being in parking lots late at night. Our lives are nothing of extravagance, just a multitude of thanks and proof of continuous hard work and dedication. The name of my town may be associated with diamonds, but in reality, we are mostly just cubic zirconia, bearing semblance to the wealth that is so desired.
xo
Hannah
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