Guest Columnist | Balancing the small-town and big-city girl

In order to preserve the sanity of my parents and myself, I decided moving home this summer was simply not an option.

And so I've spent little time at the bump in the road that is my beloved, rural Iowa hometown. Recently, though, I was lucky enough to travel home for the weekend.

Home sweet home hadn't changed a bit. Which isn't a surprise, since, in fact, very little ever changes there.

And that only reminds me each time I return of how much I have changed since my last visit. I used to be a truly small-town girl, born and raised, but two years at Penn and in Philadelphia have left their marks on me.

At first, they were just surface scratches. I began ordering "soda" instead of "pop," and things became "wicked cool" instead of "awesome." I've even caught myself exclaiming "Oy!" or "schlepping" to work on occasion.

These are all minor changes, though, barely perceptible, evoking nothing more than occasional looks of confusion from my friends and family back home.

Next to be altered were my social habits. Although I'll always enjoy a cold one, beer was often traded for more potent juices. "Go time" was no longer 8 or 9 p.m., but several hours later. And finally, tailgating became non-existent for me, and the term "pre-gaming" lost its meaning. Let's face it: At Penn, going to a sporting event on a buzz usually makes a person a sad and/or an angry drunk.

Of course, these changes weren't especially beneficial or detrimental (apart from old friends starting to think I had become a raging, nocturnal alcoholic).

But I couldn't hold off changing more significantly as a person for long.

On one trip home last year, I left a restaurant at about 11 p.m. and headed toward the parking lot behind the building.

As I neared my car, I heard someone walking about 10 yards behind me; his gate sped up as he began jogging toward me.

My heart began pounding; my body stiffened. But when I turned to look, I realized it was just an old friend, trying to catch up to tell me to have a safe flight back the next day.

I had become a paranoid city girl. And not only that: I caught myself cursing and honking at another driver on the way home, making me a rude, paranoid city girl. The city was changing me.

On my most recent trip home, it became even more apparent that I had become something of an outsider.

While hanging out with a few friends, one of them used a certain "n" word to refer to an African American person.

I was shocked and embarrassed that the term was used so casually, and I was even more shocked that no one else even seemed to notice - a few friends even repeated the word.

I was ashamed, knowing that some of my closest friends at school would surely feel very insulted had they borne witness to the conversation.

Throughout my recent trips home, I've noticed the use of some other racial and homophobic slurs and stereotypes.

This is not to say that most small-town people are close-minded or racist, or that people in other parts of the world are not - these are mere observations.

However, I doubt that such use of offensive racial and homophobic terms, however occasional, is a new phenomenon in my hometown, because, like I said, nothing - apart from maybe the hog prices and soybean harvest - ever really changes.

Perhaps I simply didn't notice them before, and now, after spending time in a "diverse" environment, I have become more culturally sensitive. Penn, it seems, has opened my eyes to others' perspectives.

It seems a very long time ago that I arrived at Penn a scared, naive, small-town girl. But I've been affected by my surroundings, like we all have.

I still like to tell people I'm a small town Iowa girl, but the truth is that I'm not anymore.

But I'm definitely not a Philadelphian, either. I guess I'm part small-town, part city, and I can choose the parts I want.

Which means I can be a laid-back country girl who knows to keep her head up and zip up her purse.

Which means I'll hold on to the hardworking attitude of the farm and the competitiveness of the city and scrap the racial slurs and the road rage.

I will continue to let my environment change me, but only for the better. And, with any luck, after a semester in Spain, I'll return to Penn a more worldly, sexier (in my dreams), Flamenco-dancing version of myself ..

Emily Garrett is a College junior from Waukon, Iowa. Her e-mail address is garrett@dailypennsylvanian.com

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