Some people find their purpose through the community they were born in, doing their part to make their small corner of this space-rock a little more colorful than it was when they first exited the womb. I could never. I would rather sail a thousand seas than spend my life cooped up in a 300,000-inhabitant icebox of snowy sadness that voted 57% for Trump in the last election, a hell-scape that freezes a good chunk of its men into trying the military or opioids or both, and brainwashes its women into marry young without knowing a good chunk of other options like college or feminism or running the goddamned world like the bad-ass women you would want your daughters to be. No. My home did not define me, and so I left it. What you’re born into shouldn’t be the hill you die on.