Big City
Last night at the movies I met a really nice guy. He was really quiet, but very friendly when I spoke with him. He has an interesting story -- he is the first person in his family to actually go to college. They are all "hill people" (as he called them). I told him that I thought it was great that he was going to college and pursuing an education. I think he is a little ashamed of himself for departing from what his family has done for so long. He's also (currently) the only member of the Church in his family. He joined about three years ago, from what I can tell.
Anyway he’s a nice, quiet, guy. About twenty minutes into our conversation he said (with a big thick southern drawl, naturally), "You'd have to understand hill people. It's our way." I laughed, and said, "Oh, I do understand 'hill people.'" I could tell he didn't believe me. In fact, at that moment I realized that he considered me to be too "big city" for him. The funny thing is, that's the first time in my life that I have ever been rejected (not that I was planning on making any moves on him, but he was preemptively rejecting me) for being too sophisticated ("big city"). Funnier still, was the fact that I immediately wanted to tell him my whole life story, and where I came from, and reassure him that I was once a poor little country girl. Funnier than all of that, is the fact that I have worked my butt off for the last seven years trying to take the country out of this girl, and getting myself to the point where people think that I come from a normal middle-class urban upbringing.
It is such a strange dichotomy. I mean, my family was poor growing up, but I was fortunate enough to have parents who saw to it that we got as classical of an education as they could give us. Mom introduced us to Shakespeare, and e. e. cummings, while Dad inspired our minds with Handle and Mozart. We were taught table manners and mathematics. They equipped us with all of the tools they could give us to get out of the country. And, I did. Why am I ashamed of my past? It has molded me into the person I am. We are, after all, the sum of our experiences, nothing more, and certainly, nothing less.
At the end of the day, however, I have made myself too big city for some hill boy down in the Deep South, and it’s a strangely bitter-sweet moment. I'm trying to decide if it's better to be rejected because my family didn't have any money, or to be rejected because someone assumes that they do.
Anyway he’s a nice, quiet, guy. About twenty minutes into our conversation he said (with a big thick southern drawl, naturally), "You'd have to understand hill people. It's our way." I laughed, and said, "Oh, I do understand 'hill people.'" I could tell he didn't believe me. In fact, at that moment I realized that he considered me to be too "big city" for him. The funny thing is, that's the first time in my life that I have ever been rejected (not that I was planning on making any moves on him, but he was preemptively rejecting me) for being too sophisticated ("big city"). Funnier still, was the fact that I immediately wanted to tell him my whole life story, and where I came from, and reassure him that I was once a poor little country girl. Funnier than all of that, is the fact that I have worked my butt off for the last seven years trying to take the country out of this girl, and getting myself to the point where people think that I come from a normal middle-class urban upbringing.
It is such a strange dichotomy. I mean, my family was poor growing up, but I was fortunate enough to have parents who saw to it that we got as classical of an education as they could give us. Mom introduced us to Shakespeare, and e. e. cummings, while Dad inspired our minds with Handle and Mozart. We were taught table manners and mathematics. They equipped us with all of the tools they could give us to get out of the country. And, I did. Why am I ashamed of my past? It has molded me into the person I am. We are, after all, the sum of our experiences, nothing more, and certainly, nothing less.
At the end of the day, however, I have made myself too big city for some hill boy down in the Deep South, and it’s a strangely bitter-sweet moment. I'm trying to decide if it's better to be rejected because my family didn't have any money, or to be rejected because someone assumes that they do.
posted by granola girl at 9:01 pm
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