When I first arrived on the campus of Emory University, I expected it to be different. At least, that’s what I would say if you asked me. Behind my brave face and blasé attitude, however, I was picturing a bigger version of ABAC (Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, the Harvard of my hometown). “Emory is very diverse,” they told me.

“Okay,” I thought, “So it’s big ABAC with hot British guys.”

Little did I know that even though, geographically, Emory in Atlanta is only 3 hours away from Tifton, Ga, it actually exists in its own alternate universe, light years away from anything I had ever known before.

So don't get me wrong, the Emory campus is beautiful. I was nothing but appreciative of the school's architecture, landscaping, and state-of-the-art everything. I can't say I felt the same way about the people.

Literally, everywhere I went everyone was just lacking in the respect I had grown up expecting. No one held doors, said thank you, or offered to help you when you're wheeling a giant cart holding a package from your boyfriend's parents across campus and clearly needed help because you couldn't see over the top and it was about to fall over and you were about to get locked out of your dorm. You know, decent courtesy. These people were weird, and I didn't like them.

Honestly, at first I kind of hated it. I didn't understand how a place so close to home could have me feeling like an outsider. My accent, which I'd never noticed before, was "cute." My clothes were "exactly like those pictures on Twitter." My politics and religion were "so stereotypical of the South, like, you don't understand." According to the people who'd never been below the Mason-Dixon line, I was the one out of place. I'm not in Kansas anymore, but I'm not over the rainbow either. After the initial burst of "we love incoming Freshman!" no one seemed to care that I felt out of place.

I never would've believed before that the campus Republican club would only have about 20 members. I wouldn't have dreamed that people would look sidelong at me when I said "y'all." Even more, who knew the comfort food station would be serving Korean grilled cod? Honestly, it's been as much of a culture shock to me as it has been for our international students.

Slowly, and I can't really say how, I adjusted. And I can honestly say I love it.

I made room for my accent and small town upbringing at Emory's table and proved what else I can bring to it. I proved my intelligence (with a 108 on a chemistry test) and my dedication to learning (by making over 1000 flashcards.) Once I was comfortable and confident that they actually did let me in for a reason, I began to make more friends. I found common ground with my international neighbors. I became close friends with a tried-and-true liberal (she's great and I love her). Because if you see the merit in yourself, so will others.

More importantly than seeing myself as pretty good, I learned to see others as not so bad, either. It still gets on my nerves when people are rude to the dining hall staff (which it should, because that really is wrong), but I stopped being nervous when I couldn't see anyone else who looked like me. I gained the confidence to express my small town thoughts, but also to listen to the big city or international or "I pretend I come from a small planet fallen out of orbit" ones. And while I have yet to see any hot British guys, I'm hopeful that I can meet them with new views and the same convictions.