📍 Where Dreams Die in a Sea of Red

I was born, raised, and still live in Wisconsin, the state known for its cheese and beer. The state in which Packers football is second only to God. The state that shows its true color during an election year — deep, dark red — even when blue somehow wins out.

My hometown of Manawa is a small, rural, opinionated place of 1,300 people. Everyone seems to know everyone else, and as a result, everyone knows everyone else’s business. If you made the Honor Roll, it was in the local paper. If you were caught at an underage drinking party, that was in the local paper, too.

High school sports were a true spectacle, despite the teams sometimes being mediocre. If you weren’t into sports (God forbid), the Art Team at Little Wolf (now Manawa) High School was what mattered.

Around the time I turned eight, the town decided to build a new, much bigger library, thanks to a donation from the richest family in town. To say I spent time there every day is not an exaggeration. Every day after school, I was there. Every day in the summer, I was there. When the library was open on Saturdays, I was there. Three of the librarians, including the director, became great friends as I grew older. They’re all retired now, but we still stop to chat whenever we see each other when I’m back in town. I owe a lot of who I am to those three ladies and that library. I learned things there that I’m still interested in today, and learning those things played a big role in helping me to see that culture mattered, everyone is equal, and open-mindedness is key to a good life.

Manawa is located in Waupaca County, one of the reddest counties in the entire state. People were nosy and judgmental. Everyone owned guns. Everyone thought they were right and that their opinion was fact.

In the 22 years since I left the town limits, none of these things have changed. In fact, they’ve gotten worse.

Attending a four-year university isn’t encouraged, despite the high school allowing university representatives to come meet with interested students. Book bans have reared their ugly, ridiculous heads in the past ten years, but thankfully, the town librarians stood their ground. Guns are everywhere. When there are benefits or charity functions, raffle prizes always include guns. Gay people are tolerated, but most of us wait to come out until we’ve escaped the town. Over the years, a few African American families have come and gone, also tolerated but not made to feel overly welcomed.

So many people I grew up with are still there. They either never left or moved back after college, if they went. There are people I spent years and years being friends with who now refuse to talk to me because I’ve come out. I’ve been threatened by one of my high school best friends for liking women. Everyone believes they know what’s right, what’s best, and what you should be doing with your life.

Hatred lives a healthy life in Manawa. It’s a bleak place if you’re educated, open-minded, and welcoming. It crushes your soul and its people dance on the shards.

During an election year such as this, the hatred and anger are amplified. Republican and fascist yard signs are everywhere, plain as day — up to and beyond the election, even if the candidate of choice loses the election. People are set in their ways, and should you try to have a civil conversation, you’re met with more anger, defensiveness, insults, and thinly-veiled threats.

It’s a tough place to be. It’s painful to know I grew up there. It’s disappointing to see that so many people I love have never bothered to leave there. And what’s the most shocking to me is that nobody cares to educate themselves about anything. Those of us who have gone to college and left the area are the enemy.

In Manawa, Wisconsin, ignorance truly is bliss.