When I was a senior in high school, I was left with the choice facing most Texas students: Texas A&M or the University of Texas at Austin. At the time, both schools had good journalism programs, great faculty, and vibrant campus life. So, it really came down to location.
It’s not Texas rivalry week, so I will keep my comments about College Station, Texas short: There is nothing to do in that town. Literally, what do y’all do all day, hang out in the Cane’s parking lot? Needless to say, I chose UT, much to my Colt McCoy-loving father’s delight. However, my rural hometown community held mixed reactions — lots of comments about how Texas was a good school and that I would do great things there, but also some criticisms, including disbelief that my parents would allow me to go to that city.
Rural folks can seem hardwired to fear cities. Whether they recognize it or not, this is largely driven by politics. In 2016, now-President Donald Trump said some “inner cities run by the Democrats” are more dangerous than warzones — a claim that has been perpetuated for the past decade, such as when, in 2025, Markwayne Mullin, a Republican from Oklahoma who is now serving as the head of the Department of Homeland Security, said he doesn’t buckle himself up when driving in Washington D.C. for fear of getting carjacked. I’m not surprised many conservative leaders feed into this aversion to metro areas; in Texas, as in many states, all of our major cities send blue representatives to Congress, elect Democratic mayors, and are overall considered to be blue islands in a sea of red.
But it goes both ways; the myth of urban elitism isn’t necessarily all fiction. Introducing myself to fellow students who grew up in the city or one of the giant suburbs surrounding DFW, I was usually met with some combination of fascination and pity. It was an, “I’m glad you made it here” vibe. Yes, Karen from Dallas, I do believe in human rights, and no, it’s not my business what someone chooses to do with their body or who they decide to marry, despite what small-town stereotypes may lead you to assume about my beliefs.
This all makes the differences between cities and small towns appear colossal. But I know it’s not.
I was stagnant in my hometown. If I had stayed and attended the nearest university to me, I never would have had the professional opportunities, or even made some of my closest friends, that I now have. I literally can’t imagine my life without living in Austin. However, high school years filled with pep rallies and Friday night lights hold some of my happiest moments. Hanging out (yes, in the parking lot of the local Cane’s) gave my friends and me the opportunity to build strong relationships — some of which survived the transition into college. I learned the value of supporting one another as my community launched clothing drives and fundraisers for families, and came together to fight a landfill the largest city nearby placed in our neighborhood.
There’s a manufactured divide between the “urban blue” and “rural red” that feels the size of the Grand Canyon rather than just a highway. And the worst thing? We perpetuate it and then complain about polarization in this country. How can city folk even begin to try and understand you if you hurl some outlandish accusation about their morals and values? How can rural people hear you out if you don’t even respect their lived reality?
Yes, cities do have crime, and I’ve run into my fair share of hate-filled rhetoric in my time as a country bumpkin, but there’s so much more to both the city I live in and my rural hometown than the assumptions people make about them. What I’ve learned from living in — and loving — both a small town and a big city is that, when we lead with our assumptions, not with genuine curiosity, we lose the ability to reach understand and change perspectives. I find that the best way to overcome this barrier is simply asking questions: Why do you feel this way? What other research have you done? And then asking myself what is actually at stake here? Maybe I’ll gently suggest other resources and offer other viewpoints. And maybe the other side of the canyon will come that much closer.