My first week on campus involved a lot of laughter and looks of confusion. In the hustle of introducing myself to the largest freshman class size that Harvard College has ever had, I would run through quick facts about myself and then wait for the responses of my peers. The responses of mirth and barely hidden chuckles, gasps and words of pity were quick to come on everyone’s faces. No one ever seemed happy or interested to know I was from Oklahoma.

I understand that it might be easy to look down upon my seemingly average pan-handled home state from the supposedly extravagant East and West Coasts. But when I introduce myself as a student from Oklahoma, I am not looking for reactions of shock or giggles or second-hand embarrassment. Rather, I am looking for an understanding that our respective hometowns played a crucial role in making us the people that we are today. Reactions that look down upon the place where I was born and raised seem to only cement the notion that my home is less than others, thereby making me less than others. To outsiders, I am simply the girl from Oklahoma, nothing more.

I know that Oklahoma deserves some of the negative reactions it gets. And frankly, I disapprove of some aspects of Oklahoma as well, like its troublesome history — such as the Tulsa Race Massacre, where a white mob burned over a thousand buildings and killed hundreds of Black people — and abusive, uninformed decisions. Even the creation of Oklahoma was undesirable: It began as a territory for the use of the colonizing American government to forcefully relocate thousands of Native Americans on the Trail of Tears. Moving forward through time, Oklahoma hasn’t done much to change that negative reputation. The Bible Belt state leads with some of the worst public schools, the most damaged public health, and the highest incarceration rate in the U.S. Moreover, two years into the pandemic, much of Oklahoma still opposes measures that prevent the spread of the deadly Covid-19 pandemic.

But this place, with all of its pitfalls, is my home. This is the place where I had my first kiss, my first crush, my first love. This is the place with the most beautiful clouds and fruitful land I’ve ever seen. This is one of the few places where stars still shine undimmed by pollution and where the moon seems to light up the whole night sky. This is a place full of back porch conversations and rampant tornadoes with children huddled around the windows to “catch themselves a ‘nader.” Not being fully south or midwest, Oklahoma still encompasses the classic Southern hospitality and Midwestern “get ‘er done” attitude. This place is my home. I don’t claim or identify with its behavior and continued problems — but I do claim the memories and relationships that I have built here. I claim the rolling plains and the turbulent winds. I claim the open space and the clean air. I claim the smiles through the car windows and the waves as you pass someone on the street. I claim the Oklahoma that helped raise me and nurture me to become who I am today.

So when people laugh at or pity a small-town girl from rural Oklahoma, they do so with the limited knowledge that an outsider would have. But when I say I am from Oklahoma, I am not laughing or looking for pity. For my classmates to automatically see my home state as a negative reflection of who I am further alienates me from them. To frown upon others' roots rather than being understanding of where they come from is emblematic of the rising division in our nation, perpetuating an environment that is already dense with the disease of “us versus them.” In a world where we are all just striving to belong, why should one person’s birthplace be inferior to another’s? I am simply saying that I come from my home, the same as you. I am a girl from Oklahoma, nothing more and nothing less.

Home is not a physical location. Home is where you find your safe space. Home is where comfort can thrive peacefully in the uncomfortable. Let’s rejoice in the diversity of people’s homes, let’s understand that they are complex and can be the worst and yet most important place in someone’s life. Take pride in the place you grew up in, even with all the roses and thorns. Don’t judge your home with the opinions of others, rather see it through the memories of your life. I celebrate my home and know that one day I will bring it change. The parts of it that I don’t claim, the tangled lines of the state’s history, will one day be transformed. One day, we will all find the beauty of each other’s homes and empathize with the roots of each other’s stories.

I love my home with all my hate, and you should too. It’s Oklahoma, a love-hate story after all.

Hea Pushpraj ‘25, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Straus Hall.