Questioning Life In My Quirky Small Town

When I first stepped foot into my town, all I could think was “Wow, I’ve never seen so many people with dreadlocks in one place!”

I had dreadlocks at the time, and immediately felt connected to the locals with their flowing skirts, men with hair in messy buns, and the faint smell of weed lingering in the summer air. I knew I needed to move here.

Now, when I walk down the street with my curly hair flowing after embracing my blackness for the first time in my life, I find myself cringing at all the white people with natural-forming dreadlocks.

I wonder if this is the best place for me and my multi-racial family.

Paradise on Earth. This little town boasts of being an exception, a special little gem hidden in the Canadian Rockies. Full of hippies, stoners, open-minded people, and local organic food.

Why would you want to live anywhere else?

Yet for three years, almost since the moment I arrived here, I’ve wanted to leave.

My town is called Nelson, and locals are aware of the “Nelson Bubble.” The insulation that keeps big corporations out and white people with dreadlocks in.

This bubble is comforting, and suffocating, at the same time.

The local paper talks about school science fairs, and ignores the rest of the country, let alone the rest of the world. The people are progressive, yet passive. Comforted by this sense that everything is perfect here, that any issues we have are minor and not worth discussing.

Racism exists here, but it’s so cleverly cloaked and denied that a discussion about race is excused away, and coloured people are blamed for taking things too personally. We are told that if we don’t like it, we should leave.

Maybe that’s why there are so few non-white people here.

Like I always say, I love this town; it’s a very special place.

I fell in love with Nelson when I was 22 years old. Newly married, we were camping throughout BC when we decided to swing by that little town of Nelson that had a reputation of being full of stoners. Our plan was to move to a larger city in British Columbia, but when I saw the little gender ambiguous children dancing along to local folk-music at the charming weekly market, my ovaries told me to stay.

This was where I needed to have my children.

We decided Nelson was going to be our home, so we moved. Now I’ve been here for three years, and I have consistently talked about moving away. Moving back to a big city, full of opportunity, excitement, and most importantly, diversity.

I want my children to grow up around other non-white people. To hear about different religions, and to understand that life has nitty-gritty bits that need to be addressed.

I want my children to be citizens of the world; to understand themselves as part of a global community. I want them to recognize that problems on the other side of the planet affect them too. I don’t want them to grow up in a safe bubble that insulates them from the reality of life.

I don’t want to live in a safe bubble, isolating me from the reality of life.

Every time we discuss moving, we get one step closer to taking the plunge.

We’ve considered leaving the country, but recently I’ve grown to appreciate the uniqueness of being Canadian.

We’ve thought about moving back to Alberta, our home province of cowboys and conservatives, but I suspect we have become too openly progressive to feel comfortable there.

We explore options, look into the costs, get scared, and decide to stay.

Staying would be so easy to stay. We could keep all of our possessions, keep buildings up our lives, keep taking regular strolls by the scenic lake.

Keep feeling like we are missing out.

I shudder to think of who my children will grow to become in this stifling and isolating bubble.

As much as I love my town, and as hard as it will be to leave (both physically and emotionally) I know I need to go.

It’s been three years, and I haven’t stopped fantasizing about moving away. I’ve come to realize that as long as I stay here I will always be dreaming about being somewhere else.

I have no regrets in moving here.

I listened to my intuition and made the best decision I could. Having my first child here gave me the protection and support I needed to blossom into the being I am today. Isolation helped with gaining confidence and growing into myself. Now I need to rejoin the world if I wish to continue growing.

Nelson is an amazing town. I often say it just needs a few 100,000 more people. It’s perfect if you love farmers markets, meditating by the lake, ignoring the rest of the world, and surrounding yourself with similar people.

It’s perfect if you are a white, middle class, hippie.

That’s who I used to want to be, but now I just want to by myself.

I love Nelson, but I love myself more.