A Real Time Machine

I chose not to walk across the stage at my high school’s graduation ceremony. At that point, I had already spent my senior year attending community college full-time, and I was far too detached from my high school and its town to even consider walking across the stage. Of course, I had family and friends determined to make my choice for me, convinced I would regret this decision for the rest of my life. How, after attending this school for the past nine years, could I decide not to attend the commencement?

.  .  .

In the fall of 2023, when I moved to Duluth to attend the University of Minnesota Duluth, I was introduced (for the very first time) to people who didn’t think inside of the box. This, I initially thought, was unusual. It was odd seeing individual thoughts and ideas come to life without the interference of church or tradition. I felt like I had found my people, and at the same time, I felt misplaced.

I’ve found that those who grow up in cities, or even towns that have more than 1,000 people are usually incapable of understanding the inherent problem that stems from small, church-oriented communities. Needless to say, there isn’t anything wrong with church-oriented communities, but I’d be lying if I said my high school’s town was known for being welcoming and accepting.

I’d like to think that in my high school’s town, I was only ever an insider surrounded by outsiders, but I’d be lying to myself. It would certainly be easier to push aside the years of resentment and discontent I held while attending high school by assuming that everyone else was the real problem, but I’d only be contributing to what created this problem in the first place.

Duluth is just over 60 miles away from my high school’s town. Not only does this seem like too short of a distance for any real change to take place, but I’m always fearful I’ll run into an old coach or classmate of mine. It seems that the 60 miles that separate these two towns also separate two completely different lives of mine, and I dread the possibility of these two lives overlapping and bringing my current world to a halt.

I like to think of these 60 miles as a time machine. There’s a discrepancy between the traditional, voiceless town I received nine years of education from and the city of Duluth which is so immune to “normalcy” I’m unsure of a fitting word to describe it.

Since moving to Duluth, I’ve found that Duluth and my high school’s town have in common the inability to listen and consider others’ differences equal to your own. This is something I often fear is an issue worldwide. There’s a superiority complex that comes with thinking that you’ve found the answer. Regardless if that answer is religion or a certain political stance, people would rather answer questions than ask.

That’s not to say that both places are equally flawed in my opinion. It’s evident in my avoidance of the “time machine” that Duluth is a better fit for me. I’m guilty of having strong opinions and speaking my mind a bit too much as well. I fear that if I don’t speak up, louder voices will over power mine the same way they did in my high school’s town.

.  .  .

I’ve been told that as a woman, safety should be my priority in a city like Duluth. This fascinates me because when people use the word “safety”, they are almost always referring to physical safety. This is undoubtedly important, and I don’t take safety for granted, but I’d argue that the women in my high school’s town find themselves victims to dangerous situations more often.

When I refer to safety in my high school’s town, it is rarely related to physical safety but rather safety regarding the avoidance of indoctrination and false influence. There were around six women from my graduating class who decided to attend a four-year university after graduating high school. I’m not one to argue that college is the right choice for everyone, but I do worry about young women who decide to become housewives and bear children straight out of high school. I have complicated feelings about this.

I often wonder what happened to their dreams of saving the world and traveling to space. Is it so terrible to be a mother and a dreamer? Is it a sin to never mother at all? These are questions that I asked myself a lot when I was surrounded by these people. These women all coincidently ended up with the same “dream”, while their male peers went off to pursue careers that aligned less with their passions and more with money.

When I say I chose not to walk the stage at my high school’s graduation ceremony, what I really mean is I never choose to walk the stage. The choice to leave my high school’s town behind after my junior year to focus on earning my AA seemed like common sense. It has nothing to do with the sour taste in my mouth that I had when I stepped into the building. At least, I didn’t think it did at the time. Walking away from that town was my graduation walk. I still see the time machine everywhere I look, but the air trapped inside no longer suffocates me.