“I love Richmond!”

Why. This has always been my reaction. I never understood why people would willing want to go to Richmond after graduation and then on top of that actually like it.

It’s not to say that it didn’t like it growing up. I had that dainty little suburban life that every parent would want for their child, and I am nonetheless proud of where I came from. However, living there as a young millennial never even once crossed my mind.

My thoughts:

Where will you end up after graduation?
a) New York
b) Washington DC
c) Idk maybe somewhere else that isn’t Richmond
d) Other (than Richmond)

As I continued to converse with folks in their young 20’s, I noticed that not one person who started their career in Richmond disliked it. Quite the opposite, they all loved it. For me, well, what a conundrum. However, in the moment, I pushed it to that back of my mind and figured that we are all entitled to our own opinions (although mine was the most unpopular).

I knew that after school I would be home for an undisclosed period of time. A good time for me to take some time off and get some much-needed R&R during my pursuit to find a job, right? Wrong. After two days to ‘relaxing’, I found myself staring at my bedroom wall, bored to tears, in a place I had already written off as sleepy, boring, and unenergetic.

That weekend I found myself sitting at bar with an old high school friend who asked me if I’d consider taking a job here that would maybe help me to get that job I wanted elsewhere. Also, as if it was an automatic reflex, I blurted out "no" in response to such a heinous question. Accompanied by a sense of fear and panic, and triggered by the idea that If I don’t leave now I’ll never be forever stuck here in Satan’s grasp, God help me, the answer was not one I had to exert any energy to contemplate.

A bit irritated by my ignorance, his response was a little something like this:

"Why not? This city is about as foreign to you as somewhere you’ve never been. The relationship you once had with this place is completely different in dynamic than the one you’d have now. You’ve had a relationship with this place as a child. You’ve never had a relationship with this place as an adult."

As we left to go to our next destination, I mentioned that I had no idea where we were. “It’s on a grid, you can’t be lost.” How many times have I heard that one before? Many, but always in New York. It was then I realized that my friend was right — I didn’t know this city at all. OK, maybe it was time for me to start anew and give my cherished childhood home the second chance it rightfully deserved.

I’ve started to rebuild my relationship, a different relationship, with my city through the eyes of an adult rather through the eyes of a child. It is incredible to tap into a totally unique lifestyle that has been there all along, moving forward with or without you, entirely without your knowledge. It is not until you chose to be a part of it that you learn to appreciate those quirks and the character your own city renders while simultaneously excavating those undiscovered parts of yourself.

What baffles me is that I have grown up in this town, and was blind to so much. I barely knew my environment at all. Yet, I could say I was from this town or that town. Now when I look at this short span of time I have here, I appreciate the limited number of days I have—exploring and learning new things every day—rather than counting the days until I get to leave. Instead of waiting for my life to start elsewhere, I’m starting my life, right here, right now, in good ole RVA.

It wouldn’t be fair to close without an example. Take a look at this building.

I encourage each and every one of you to guess what this building is supposedly modeled after. You'll never guess.

I’ve driven past this building hundreds of times in the past 20 years. And for twenty years, I’ve always wondered why this strange structure looked the way it did. I concluded that the architect must have just had one too many that day or that he was spiritually committed to bring outer space a little bit closer to home.

I was wrong on both accounts. Turns out this building, the Markel Building, was inspired by a foil-wrapped potato (I’m serious) and has been deemed one of the 10 ugliest buildings in the world.

When architect Haig Jamgochain was served his piping hot potato during an American Institutes of Architect’s dinner, he had a sudden vision of creativity and inspiration. Now if that isn’t something to be proud of, I’m not sure what is.

So when I start my journey elsewhere, and people ask me where I come from, I will tell them I come from Richmond, Virginia with pride — and not just because it gave my roots — because I know exactly what there is to be proud of.