I’m originally from California. Growing up it was almost always 72 degrees and sunny. My version of winter was 52 degrees and a Baby Phat jacket to ”dress” for the cold. People were mostly nice and welcoming and if they were not, they likely didn’t like you. There was never this moment where I became insecure in wondering why I was being treated a certain way because it was very much clear to me from a young age, the why. I would hate not being liked, but I’d know the reasons. There weren’t backhanded comments, covert tactics or downright very shady attitudes towards me or my family that made me feel like I wasn’t welcomed.
My city in the Inland Empire was diverse! There seemed to be an equal distribution of all races in my grade schools too. In highschool, sure things got out of hand at a certain point with racial confrontations, but they would be broken up by the Black security guard, the White security guard, the Asian teacher and the Mexican administrator. Again, diversity and inclusion was a non issue in California growing up.
Fast Forward to moving to New Hampshire, I was met with a cold reception. It was April and still 32 degrees. I drove cross country to get here. It seemed the closer I got, the faster and more aggressive people drove. My late father, an astute black man ended up here during his time in the military. He was stationed at a local Air Force Base and as a girl that grew up without her dad, in true form, I found him and stayed put. He was an east coaster having grown up in Delaware and my mother was a Southern Belle having grown up in Georgia. Anytime I visited him as a child, his goal was to toughen me up and “build my character”, I was and still am a sensitive soul. Though he’s passed away, I’ve remained here for the opportunities, expanded family I have now created and the friendships that have taken years to develop.
Many times I have wanted to leave for one reason. People in New England are cold! Even my friends from here have mentioned that “yeah I know people can be really cold here”. Let me explain warmth before I dissect what cold looks like.
Warm people, the kind I grew up with and had become myself smile often, say hello, open doors, make eye contact, spark up random conversation (introverts not included here), and have a pretty open disposition when it comes to body language.
Cold people, the kind I’ve confronted here and have now got that edge myself are short in interaction, closed off physically, their tone reflects frustration (even if you’ve literally done nothing), they don’t project openness to your company and they tend to be quick with you, they have an covert way of making you feel like an inconvenience and no amount of kindness is really directed your way.
When I was pregnant and even before, I had heavily entertained the idea of relocating to a new region altogether because I didn’t want my son to grow up with that edge, in this cold place wondering why people responded to him a certain way. Then I remembered his environment will shape him no matter what. I was always and still am a pretty happy go lucky person. I’ve tried to turn it off to fit in more, but instead I actually developed a new layer to me. An armor of that cold I speak of that I pull out when needed. That toughness my father was trying to groom in me. I used to consider myself a victim of the constant coldness and very rude attitudes I faced here.
There is this old adage “kill em with kindness“, that certainly has its place. I’ve learned quickly though, you need to respond adequately to some and speak THEIR language.
My son will know that kindness and warmth because that’s whats modeled in my home. Thats the company I keep and the circles I choose to immerse myself into. I used to befriend everyone, until I realized certain attitudes rub me the wrong way. I want my friendships to feel like home, and they do. I want my relationships to remind me of the chill vibes I had in Cali. I want my son to see what I consider a warmer way to operate in the world without the chip on your shoulder that I’ve seen here in New England.
How we interact in the home and with others is so foundational to how our kids will too. A close friend of mine said this when I left Cali “Let your smile change the world, don’t let the world change your smile”.
For some time there, I tried to fit into the New England attitude, but I realized it’s not me. I’m warm, I’m kind and not backbiting.
This place has given me a backbone that I needed. Growing up, I was a soft and sensitive kid. I’m still very sensitive, but not soft. I can now dish it back, and for that I’m grateful.
I refuse to demonstrate being a doormat, a yes-man or someone whose always willing to take whatever hate someone’s spewing my way. I also refuse to act that way all the time, as if I’m always ready for that type of interaction.
New England has sharpened my character, but my home and primary way of operating has remained true to my SoCal roots. The longer I am out here in New England the more I realize, my identity belongs to no single place, but my soul.