I'm from Houck, AZ, the southeastern part of the Navajo Reservation. I attend college in rural white Pennsylvania. These two places are completely opposite of each other in terms of culture, skin color, weather, and ways of thinking – that's expected.

If I had to guess, I get about four odd looks per day. Three people ask my ethnicity per week, choke down two smart comments a day, and cry myself to sleep once per week. It's difficult to expressthe emotions that I feel in a week and try to convey that to my family or close friends.

Of course, I expected it to be hard to be away from home, but I never thought it would feel like a literal part of me is missing. I know that my Indigenous people relate to this so much... but as much as I'd like to write this article for them, it's more for white people and other POC.

To the rest of the world, we're a memory ora person of interest when they want to do a research paper or wear a headdress. (Ayoodiigis)

Eventually, when I meet new people and the "what's your ethnicity?" question comes up, I say this word for word:

"I'm full blood Native American, specifically Navajo. I'm from Arizona, I go to school at Susquehanna University."

Usually, they ask what is different in Selinsgrove compared to home and frankly, that's a long discussion on its own. I'm tired of explaining who I am. I'm tired of educating others when I'm only in Pennsylvania for MY education.

I'm tired of trying to feel connected to a place that I have very little connection to in comparison to home. I'm tired of repeating myself constantly. I'm tired of people not knowing about Indigenous People. It is making me sick to my stomach to have to feel this way.

It feels as though my people's history, trauma, culture, prayers, ancestors, family, education, and livelihood is reduced to 2 sentences. That's all people will remember about me.

I'm the Native college girl that they got to meet once. They'll never learn or try to understand the struggles Native people face daily. They will continue their lives normally and unfazed. I think that is what bothers me the most.

I know the sacredness of my culture and other Indigenous cultures, so I know the level of respect it demands automatically. However, others can't give that same amount of respect right away and it deeply bothers me.

Imagine the thing you loved most on this earth could transcend time and distance. It's special. Now put your faith, love, and passion into that thing you love the most. Imagine that thing is part of your thoughts every day. Wherever you looked, you were reminded of its amazing abilities and it feels even more special when you know only a few can feel its positive energy.

Now, imagine allowing someone to see and they tell you it's nothing special, it's not real, or that you don't need it because you're in a different place.

That is what every strange look feels like. That is what the ethnicity question feels like. You want to say something, but you know you shouldn't, so you keep it in. Finally, you cry because you have no other way to express the sadness and disrespect you feel.

When I say that the east coast scripted my identity – this is what I mean.

This place feels as though it has made me smaller than I know I am. It has made me out to be the intruder, the danger to be avoided. It has made me feel ugly inside and out – this place has made me soft and tainted. If I sound bitter and jaded, then I probably am.

In conclusion, PA gave left me less of a person than I see myself.