I was going through these photos + videos and they made me think a lot about where I’m from bringing me to where I am now. For those who don’t know, I grew up in a town in RI so small it’s actually considered a village. It has a center-of-town only 1 mile long and a population just barely edging towards 1700. My school district was notorious for snow days because the neighboring town had dirt roads you couldn’t plow. I was surrounded by wooded area whether at home or at school, and couldn’t see my neighbors through the trees. Agriculture was a class you could take in my high school and I wasn’t unfamiliar with farms. My vernacular included words like ‘wicked’ instead of very, ‘cocked’ instead of drunk, and I didn’t properly pronounce the letter R in most words. I’ve lived in cities now for the last 12 years and while growing into my queerness in spaces that felt safer and more accepting than your typical rural population, I shook so much of my prior self off that I didn’t think twice about its lasting essence within me. But when life’s curveball took me back east a few months ago for the first time in the last decade, I had a stop in the woods of Maine not too dissimilar to my upbringing that allowed me to unearth these parts of myself again. It reminded me that the stuff I’m made of is forever ingrained in me, and parts of myself still find immense joy in what came with this type of life — country music, jean jackets, jeeps + trucks, playing in the woods, convenience store runs, long rural drives, yearly camping trips, summers by the Atlantic. I’m aware by now that although I may have initially rejected a place that cramped the growth of my creativity and identity, I believe there’s a special kind of combined grit and compassion that come from these environments and I would not have the perspective on the world that I do now without it. For that alone, I am forever grateful. And in the meantime, just know that yes I want to drive your truck, go on that long road trip with you, pitch a tent, light a fire, bathe in the ocean, and sing our favorite country songs at the top of our lungs. I may live a city life now, but few things would light me up so fully.