DETROIT—If there’s one thing I learned during my first year wandering the streets of Cambridge, it’s that people on the East Coast believe that anything west of the Alleghenies is a cultural black hole—a haven for cows, sheep and Jerry Springer guests.

Initially, it surprised me. But now I’ve become accustomed to the pitying and disdainful “Oh, she’s from the Midwest” glance. (If you’ve never experienced this, just imagine the look on someone’s face after you tell her you recently escaped from the circus and have come to Harvard to study culinary arts and beauty salon etiquette.)

And after nine months living in Harvard Yard, I, too, began to repeat the East Coast Mantra. I called home to talk with family and friends—and spent half of the conversation fixated on their glaring accents. I revised my reply to the inevitable “Where are you from?” inquiry. “Michigan,” I said. “But I want to live in New York.” I hardly lived up to the Puritan pedigree, but at least I was trying.

But all that has changed now. I’m a dyed-in-the-wool Midwestern girl, proudly requesting cans of “pop” and donning my t-shirt that reads, “Harvard: The Michigan of the East.” Even though I miss the bustle of Harvard Square (especially the constant crooning of “Not the Beatles” outside my window every Saturday morning), I love being home. It is slightly less exciting, to be sure, and the absence of public transportation can be frustrating. But there is a certain charm here, a Michigan mystique, and more importantly, a dynamic new Detroit.

Last week, Detroit celebrated its 300th birthday (believe it or not, there is history outside of Boston) with fanfare and frippery. Fifteen tall ships docked along the Detroit River, filling the aquatic expanse with vibrant colors from Detroit to Windsor. Dignitaries representing France and twelve Native American nations converged upon the city to celebrate its heritage. The Detroit Symphony Orchestra performed outdoors with an 800-person gospel choir.

And then there was the Celebrity Homecoming Concert, featuring Detroit’s own Stevie Wonder, along with some other home-grown favorites—The Temptations, Tim Allen, Anita Cochran, Dave Coulier (in case you didn’t satisfy your Full House fervor with “The B.J. Show” this year), and David Alan Grier. Even though the concert was, for the most part, Detroit Diva-free (Madonna and Aretha Franklin are from Detroit, too), my best friend and I decided to drive downtown and check out the scene.

If you live in the suburbs of New York or Boston, traveling into the city is a regular, if not daily, occurrence. This is not the case with Detroit. There is a widening rift between the suburbs and the city due to expressway development, urban and suburban sprawl and age-old racial tensions. With a new freeway system that drew people out of the city and made commuting from the suburbs easier, the Eisenhower administration’s new home deals, the city’s growing African American population and the ’67 riots, many white people moved out of Detroit in the 50s and 60s—and never came back.

In the second half of the 20th century, Detroit evolved from a vibrant city of the future—home of Henry Ford and his revolutionary automobile—to a classic urban case study in poverty and neglect. Buildings that once glowed with the promise of industrialization stand dilapidated, their shattered windows mirroring the lost dreams of a city facing racial tension, poverty, crime and unemployment. The results of the 2000 census labeled Detroit the most segregated city in the country.