I call Indiana home, but not by choice. My mom grew up in southern Indiana, and my dad thought the combination of her and the low cost of living was a great deal. I used to think the state was just boring, as expected of an eight-year-old surrounded by constant road work, potholes, and soy. Ignorance was bliss, because I didn’t start to notice the greater flaws until I started to question and explore my identity. My domineering feminist phase revealed that the “Midwest charm” includes casual misogyny and a severe lack of women in leadership roles. The feminist phase evolved into love that I had been taught by society not to accept. I know other kids have it a lot worse, but it is less than ideal being gay in Indiana. I thought it was just a regional thing at first, then I went to college and not much changed as far as attitude towards and education about LGBT issues. I sought out CAPS primarily for the opportunity to achieve my lifelong dream of getting out of the Crossroads of America, and I’ve landed a whopping two hours from my house.

This isn’t an entirely sour narrative, I just really want to exaggerate how low my expectations are for any part of Indiana, including Indianapolis. I was excited for the next level of independence: my first internship and living on my own with people I enjoy. To say Indy surprised me is an understatement, I think “shocked” is more appropriate. I’ve established myself in a safe living and working environment, and there’s so much individual, community, and city support for some LGBT needs. I’ve met wonderful allies and community members, all of who have directed me to helpful resources, gay friendly spots, and background on what the LGBT scene looks like in Indianapolis. Companies are in on it, too, and although it’s likely to make a profit it’s still refreshing to see. The support helps me thrive, and I can easily say this is one of the best summer’s I’ve ever experiences; however, I learned very quickly that the same energy and support does not extend beyond Indianapolis.

It’s like living in a mostly accepting bubble, and if you’re in the bubble why should you worry about what’s going on outside of it? I’ve lived outside the bubble for 20 years, and I know how rough it is without accessible resources or the communal willingness to learn. I’m grateful to have both an inside perspective, but I know I’ll never be fully comfortable living here and knowing what others face just beyond city limits. I always thought I’d want to live in a city, but my observation of Indy makes me wonder if I’ve been disillusioned by other cities before. A lot of gay kids dream about moving to a larger city because they’re generally more progressive and accepting, but the desire for change falls flat the city’s end. The mentality encourages people to come to places that range from okay to wonderful rather than use the resources available to change the areas that LGBT youth are running from. I want to know how I can do my part without forcing myself to live somewhere where I don’t feel welcomed, but I don’t want the coziness of the bubble to deafen me from those that can’t just pack their bags and go. I grow queasy thinking about those who’ve been in the bubble all their lives, knowing that what they have going on for them is unique, beneficial, and necessary for personal growth. I doubt it’s intentional, but there’s a lack of education here just as there is outside of big, progressive cities. I wonder what would happen if the bubble popped.