I Belong Here

Wake up Dear, It’s time to go home (2026)

Listen to the narrated version on Substack

A reflection where belonging is a moving target in a body that reads as many things, in a place that counts generations depending on who's asking.

I’ve been searching for belonging, but maybe I’m afraid to find it. I find it strange that I’ve often been mistaken for Indigenous, but simultaneously no one believes that I’m from here. It’s a weird lens, to sit on the periphery watching modern day manifest destiny.

I was conceived, born, raised, educated, and plan to die here. I am a 1st, 2nd, 4th and 5th generation Montanan depending on who you are and when you start counting. My mom calls me a first, my dad calls me a fourth, and the others, well it depends on who wins the battle to call immigrants American. 

Westworld says we all have a core memory that informs all of our decision making. Mine is discovering that I’m not from here—even though I am. 

So I’m not really from here—in my head. I’m from where my mom is from—but I’m not. Not there either. 

My dad wouldn’t know where he’s from, he’s from here. 

But I’m not. Not my sister either. 

If I found where I was from, would my Westworld memory cancel out? 

Sometimes it’s scary—to imagine I belong here.