16 “One Ticket to the Other Side of My White Picket Fence, Please!”

I grew up under magnolia trees perfumed by vines of honeysuckle. The southern U.S. is my home. I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia. Although Atlanta is one of the most diverse cities in the South, my circle was fairly homogenous: white, middle class, churchgoers. This was even more the norm when I moved to Nashville, Tennessee in high school, which is often referred to as the “Buckle of the Bible Belt” because of how many churches there are. Most of my friends’ families looked like mine, had the same Southern drawl, and shared the routine of rotating between soccer practices, school, and piano lessons. We went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday night, plus other days for choir practice, softball games, and community service. I didn’t realize it, but I sat squarely within a singular worldview. It was like the white picket fences on the lawns of my neighborhood were fencing off other ways of life, too.

The summer after high school, I went to Mexico. In my first experience not using Spanish for exams, I saw the true value of language: Spanish connected me to people that I otherwise couldn’t have communicated with. Sitting on the patio listening to the chisme de mis tías, going to a fiesta de primera comunión, seeing the abuelos nod off at the same time the niños took their siesta, and wandering into a reunión política de comunismo^[1] in Aguascalientes, I saw that there was more than the singular perspective I had known from my side of the white picket fence.

When I started college the next month, I felt torn between wanting to explore the world more versus pursuing the goal of marriage I had believed my future would hold. At my small university in Birmingham, Alabama, most of my peers also believed that their post-graduation life would follow the suburban nuclear family routines we grew up with. However, as I progressed through my coursework, I uncovered new ways of thinking, doing, and living, which came with new possibilities. Reflecting on who I was and who I wanted to become emerged as an ongoing step in my learning process.

Unable to rid traveling from my mind, instead of an engagement ring on my finger, I put a passport in my hand. I earned scholarships to study abroad three times: Costa Rica, Ecuador, and England. Each experience connected me to the world on the other side of my white picket fence as I soaked up lessons in language and culture. I eventually crafted my senior thesis around intercultural communication, teaching students who, like me, had grown up behind white picket fences and were about to study abroad for the first time.

I watched friends experience what we’d once all dreamed of as they accepted marriage proposals and we inched closer to graduation. The dissonance I felt about not pursuing that path was faint compared to my euphoria when crossing a new border. I finished college and went to Madrid, Spain for a yearlong Fulbright fellowship to teach English. Before I left, I told my mama that I was moving. My family had returned to Atlanta and we were seated in the swing on the porch. She asked, “But what’s wrong with Georgia?” sincerely wondering why I wanted to live halfway across the world. I answered, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just know there’s more to see.”

The next fall, I returned to Alabama for a master’s in applied linguistics. Although I have extended family members who attended graduate school, I am first in my immediate family to do so. My daddy showed his support by helping unload a U-Haul in my new college town on a sticky August morning in Tuscaloosa, but no one really understood why I wanted to go back to school. The confusion continued when I committed to a PhD program at the UA in writing studies, but I knew this next adventure was the right one for me.

My journey is hallmarked by learning to believe in myself enough to take my own path. As a kid, I created make-believe classrooms with dolls and stuffed animals as students. I always knew I wanted to be a teacher, but did I ever think I’d teach in China, Mexico, or the UK? No way! As I write this at 27 years old, I have visited 34 countries and experienced vastly differing beliefs as I have explored the other side of my white picket fence. I have reflected on the beauty of shared humanity across national, cultural, racial, religious, and linguistic borders. Listening to others’ stories is how I believe we become global citizens.

As you finish this chapter in your life and look to the next one, I hope that you, too, can pursue the path that is right for you and one day experience gratitude for living out what was, for me, beyond my wildest dreams. (But really — I cried when I stood on the Great Wall of China because I never believed I’d see it outside of a photograph.) Maybe the plan you started with is the one you’ve passionately stuck to. Maybe you came to college with no idea of what to do and have since found your calling. Maybe your process has been a rollercoaster and the next step isn’t clear. Whatever your story looks like and wherever your story goes, remember that it is your story. Fill it with learning, experimenting, exploring. The best stories have highs and lows, questions and quests for answers. Writing your story and doing what’s right for you can be scary but it can also be amazing. I’m so excited for you because if you pursue a lifetime of learning, it can take you on the most incredible journeys that you might have never dreamed possible.

About the author

name: Analeigh E. Horton

Analeigh E. Horton is a PhD Candidate in Rhetoric, Composition, and the Teaching of English and a teacher in the English department, General Education, and the Writing Program. When she isn’t researching multilingual writing and literacy, she’s probably snuggling with her kitty, Dr. Amelia Purrhart Einstein Horton. If she’s not home, you’ll likely find Analeigh on a plane, train, boat, or bus because she absolutely adores traveling. No matter where she goes, Analeigh loves to sing and dance, wander through street markets, and enjoy a cup of coffee with friends. Analeigh’s go-to advice is to find a community of friends and mentors who can help you grow.