College students tend to lean more to the left when it comes to politics. Being at a university means being surrounded by people of all sorts of demographics who are not exactly quiet about their plights, rights and fights. Even if you come from a fairly conservative and like-minded town, once you get to college you will be bombarded by different viewpoints, ones you must now take into account when percieving your own world view. The shift to liberalism once you hit college is pretty standard because, for the first time in your life, most likely, you are out from under your parents' roof and experiencing the world on your own. You now have the opportunity to learn things on your own and make your own decisions.

Once you've made the jump from hometown living to college, it can be really intimidating to go back home. For example, I am from a small town in central Nebraska called Broken Bow because, wait for it, the settlers of the town found a broken bow on the ground. I know, original, right? I often joke that my hometown has a population of about eight, but the number is actually closer to around three and a half thousand people. That is about half of the population of my university, and my school is considered quite small. Everyone knows everyone in that town, and it's easy to spot a newcomer when they arrive. I was hardly inconspicuous.

My parents live just south of Washington D.C., but I spent a week this last summer in my hometown with my grandparents. I was, to say the least, terrified. Don't get me wrong, I was beyond excited to see how my little town had grown and spend time with my family, but I was also sick to my stomach to think about how people in my town would react to my liberal world view, especially this close to such an intense election.

As we drove into the town, I was beaming. Absolutely glowing. The air smelled like dried corn and manure, a scent that I had grown to love over the years because it meant that I was home. We drove into the town square - an intersection of the four main raods where nearly all of the shops are centered - and I almost cried. So much work had been done in my rinky-dink town, and it was starting to look like an actual town where people really lived. I was so proud.

Pride was quickly replaced with fright. How on earth was I going to fit in? I was a newcomer from a pretty well-known family (at least in central Nebraska) with a ton of tattoos and a loud mouth. There was no way I was going to blend in. So, with that, I decided to put on my "republican costume." I borrowed a red hat from my grandparents. Republicans wear red hats, right?? I did my best to politely smile and wave at everyone, even those wearing Trump apparel *shudders.* Nothing to see here, folks, just a normal red-blooded American walking around town.

On my second day in town, I did some grocery shopping. As a vegan, I knew I was going to have to prepare most of my own meals, but I was not expecting to be provided with a wealth of ingredients. I did find a few boxes of veggie burgers, but they were, to my dismay, hidden in the "ethnic" section of the freezer. People in my hometown pronouced "vegan" like I was some sort of Star Trek villian: "vay-gone." I bought myself some vegetables and some pasta and went on my way.

Later that evening, I took pictures at the fairgrounds of a concert the local radio station put on for the County Fair. The Fair is kind of a big deal in my hometown since everyone and their brothers (literally) raises farm animals and grows produce. The County Fair is a huge revune generator for local businesses. The concert was full of country music about trucks, beer and women, an actual cliche of itself. I spent a good majority of the evening attempting to stifle my own laughter.

My week continued on in this nature. I watched FOX News with my grandfather and a tv show about a family of Catholic police officers with my granmother. In the most stereotypically Nebraskan thing I've ever done, I drove my little red pick-up truck out into the pasture with my uncle to shoot pistols at downed trees. The only way it could have been any more of a cliche would have been if we had shot tin cans off of the logs, but we did manage to shoot some poop a racoon had left on one of the logs, so I think I'll give myself full cliche marks for, and please excuse the pun, literally shooting the shit.

My hometown is what it is. It is occaisionally racist, relatively homophobic and not really open to a lot of new ideas. That being said, however, they are changing. Like most of middle America, they are expanding their welcoming arms to those who will boost their economy, and, therefore, those with new and different ideas. Since the last time I was there, my hometown has added a brewery, a community college and countless new shops and restauraunts. They are growing, and it is my sincerest hope that as they grow out they also grow up.