Reason #112 why Facebook makes me crazy.

 When I was 15 years old, in the middle of my freshman year of high school, I moved to a small town in Appalachia. 
It’s a hot mess, honestly. High high school dropout rate, high teen pregnancy rate, not many opportunities to earn a living, lots of meth labs. That being said, it is a breathtakingly beautiful part of the country, where the leaves change colors in the fall and the fog hangs over the mountains. People stay there for generations, because it’s beautiful, because it’s where their families are. I made lifelong friends in high school. There’s this strange small liberal arts college there, mostly filled with white, upper middle class clueless spoiled brats – it’s where I got my bachelor’s degree. A number of my college classmates settled in the area, and it seems like at least once a week I find them posting something on Facebook making fun of how the residents dress or talk or procreate, and it makes me furious.

I chose not to live there, for a variety of reasons. I visit, on occasion, and I’m always surprised at how warmly it envelopes me, how natural it feels to be back in those hills and winding roads, and how glad everyone is to see me. I don’t know what home is, I’ve moved so much, but I spent eight years of my life in that community, and these are good people. Weird and obnoxious at times, but still, good people. And it is NOT okay for clueless spoiled brats to mock  them. They speak a different dialect of English….they don’t wear fancy clothes. So what? I’ve certainly felt more respected and cared for by the local residents than by my college classmates.