Who says you can't go back?

Alaska is similar to the South in ways I hadn't anticipated.  The redneck culture here is alive and well, and the love for big guns and small government runs deep.  Maybe snow machines replace ATVs, fish and game look a little different, and there's a marked absence of confederate flags, but sometimes I could swear I'm back in Alabama.

Before you cringe and say "I'm sorry," there are many things I love about the South.  The charm and hospitality is so warm and tangible, the comfort food is magic, the men are strong and self-sufficient, and -- I'll admit it -- I was always prettier in jeans and flip flops in the South than I ever was in a lace mini-dress and stilettos in Southern California.

There are negatives that carry over too.  The good ole boys' club has an active Alaska branch, racist stereotypes have their stronghold, and homophobia plays a shameful role in politics.

Maybe the reason the similarities don't bother me as much as I'd expect is that I'm much more comfortable with myself than when I left the South six years ago.  Feeling misunderstood and ostracized was enough to bring me to tears back then, no matter how much support I had from those close to me.  When I first began to question the religious, political, and cultural norms I had been brought up in, the least bit of criticism was enough to make me question my intelligence and moral compass and even to make me feel unloved.

Now, I understand that reasonable minds can and do differ, and I appreciate how resistant people can be to change.  I realize that I took the concern from loved ones and authority figures too personally.  I know that sometimes, when people react out of fear, it can look a lot like hatred.  I've also found that I'm not alone.  As much as the ego-centric college student version of myself thought that I was alone in my newly found principles, I've discovered that I am within arm's reach of kindred spirits no matter where I am.

I've been lucky to find so many here, and hopefully I'm also getting better at seeking them out.  It seems that every time in the last few month I've truly make the effort to reach out, I've accidentally met like-hearted people who are willing to be my friends.  It certainly proved true for me this weekend, when a Habitat for Humanity project turned into an entire weekend of playing and laughing and bonding with women I already feel that I've known a lifetime.  Although I don't yet have a community to rival the one I left,  I have faith I'm well on my way.

For any of my dear friends who may feel alone, I hope I can encourage you to force yourself to branch out of your comfort zone.  Meetup.com has been a great resource for me here, as well as going alone to activities which I would normally have wanted to go with a friend (volunteer opportunities, cooking classes, trivia nights.).  Give the strangers around you a chance to surprise you. We're never as alone as we think we are.