The other day while scrolling through Facebook, I came across an Odyssey piece from a fellow contributor from my high school that peaked my interest. The piece was a listicle about common things everyone remembers from my hometown. I had a few laughs while reading it and gave it a well earned like, but it got me thinking. I began to think back on my home and reflect on my motivations for leaving.

I’m willing to bet that anyone who leaves their hometown and goes any meaningful distance away feels the need to somehow justify their decision to dramatically uproot their lives. Now on the surface the reasons are quite obvious, you’re getting that new job or pursing a higher education. But I think there’s more to it than just these reasons, at least for me any way.

I suppose before I go any further some context is in order about my hometown. Santa Clarita, where I grew up, is a quiet peaceful suburb about an hour north of Los Angeles smack dab on the edge of the desert. The city is actually made up of several smaller towns that banded together to from one bigger town. However, the rivalry between each of the towns persists to this day. It’s usually ranked among the safest cities in the US and one of the best to raise a family. The city also leans fairly right of center politically. Overall it was a fairly boring place to live and full of decent, but conservative folks.

I was different from the people I grew up around. However, I don’t have one of those ‘you don’t belong here’ horror stories such as being the only gay kid in a Bible belt town or the lone minority student in an all white school. My problem was I didn’t quite fit. I got along with just about everyone, but there was always something missing. My parents raised me to be a freethinker, to question what was told to me and create my own belief system. I became a one-man counter culture, going against the grain in my own way. Whatever was the trend for youth at the time, I did something different, something unique. When the fashion was for youthful rebellion and vulgarity I squared up. I squared up so much, in fact, a friend once paid me $10 to say the f-word because he’d never heard me curse before. This is just one example among many, but you get the picture. I walked my own path in life.

The most important fruits of my freethinking style were my beliefs in atheism and liberalism. They defined who I was and also brought me into the majority of conflict with my peers. The people I went to school with were predominantly religious and conservative. Which is fine for them, but it was not my style obviously. As a student of politics I understand the value of opposing viewpoints and different perspectives, but being the lone dissenting voice often left me feeling alienated from my peers.

I began to desire to find people with whom I shared similar views and beliefs beyond my family so I could engage in some friendly discourse without devolving into an argument. I very quickly realized I would have to look outside of my little slice of suburbia to find them. I also started to wonder what it would be like outside of my southern California suburban bubble. A change in venue was in order and college provided the perfect escape.

Coming to San Francisco has fulfilled that desire beyond my wildest dreams. Through my major, I have met people of a similar political bent and engaged in the most enlightening and far reaching discussions, with nary a voice raised or name called. I have met people from many different parts of the country, even different parts of the world, and from all walks of life gaining that particular education that only diversity can bring. Moving from the bosom of suburbia to the heart of a major city has certainly shaken up the humdrum of my daily routine. There are times when I look back and miss my hometown, whether because of the memories I associate with it or the comfort of the familiar, but never for a second do I regret my decision to leave. Perhaps one day, when I’ve had my fill of the wider world, I’ll come back to my hometown or someplace similar and settle down and start the cycle all over again, but who can say, the future is unwritten after all.