Opinion: I’m a Michigan-born LGBTQ teen living in NYC. I don’t want to come back.

I didn’t want to go back to Michigan.

When I moved away last August, for my first year of college in New York City, I could not wait. I’ve lived in the same house in Holland for almost all 19 years of my life. Despite the love I have for my community, and the support they’ve given me, I felt suffocated because of the prevailing conservative beliefs regarding the LGBTQ community that many political and faith leaders in West Michigan hold. I myself am queer, and after years of hearing other Michiganders debate my existence, I wanted nothing more than to leave.

I didn't expect how much my home state would become an ingrained part of my identity.

I had enrolled at a university whose students hail from across the world, and during my first month at college, I quickly learned one of the first questions was, “Where are you from?” My eyes were opened to how different others' lives and experiences had been from mine, and I surprised myself as I began to lead conversations with, “Hi! My name’s Greta, I’m from Michigan!” I learned more often than not, I was the first person from Michigan they’d met. The only thing they knew about our state was the University of Michigan, and if I was lucky, Detroit. When I explained I was from the west side, they’d ask, “Really!? What’s that like?” unaware other parts of Michigan existed.

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The more I talked about my experiences growing up in West Michigan, I slowly found a sense of pride in my home state; alongside that pride, I struggled to know what to say.

Do I brag about the Great Lakes, to which I'm emotionally attached? Do I mention the passionate battle between University of Michigan and Michigan State University (Go Blue!) but our united disdain towards all things Ohio?

Or perhaps I tell them of my experience growing up in the Bible basket of West Michigan, where, in my town there are roughly 150 churches, but in 2019, only 10 would marry LGBTQ couples? Maybe I reflect on the people of Jamestown, who voted to defund their only public library last year because its collection included books featuring LGBTQ characters? Or I could mention that just last month, Forest Hills Public Schools implemented a new system allowing parents to prevent their kids from checking out some books or authors? Or that the Forest Hills superintendent admitted to, and apologized for, pulling books from school libraries, several of which, again, considered LGBTQ existence?

None of these stories, on their own, provide a holistic picture of Michigan. There are countless examples of love and acceptance within our communities, but the voices of hate are loud, and create an echo chamber to amplify their cries. When people ask me about Michigan, I want to excitedly tell them all the positives our state has to offer without feeling conflicted, knowing some still debate my and others' existence and what rights to afford to us.

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Last month, Gov. Gretchen Whitmer expanded the Elliott-Larsen Civil Rights Act, which “reaffirms legal protections for sexual orientation and expands coverage to include gender identity and expression.” I feel cautiously optimistic. I have a glimmer of hope that social attitudes may be beginning to change for our beloved state. But still, I am wary. There are many places in Michigan which have legal protections for LGBTQ rights: Ann Arbor, Ferndale, Hazel Park, Detroit, Saugatuck and Grand Rapids are a few cities which come to mind, and others. As a barista at Uncommon Coffee Roasters, a Saugatuck coffee shop known in that city as an LGBTQ safe haven, I experienced firsthand that accepting environment.

Still, until last year Michigan had a GOP-led Legislature for 40 years. While the state government has enacted inclusive changes, local government policies toward human rights remain scarily similar, and in places like Ottawa County, where I live, they are regressing. The grassroots extreme right-wing political group Ottawa Impact, looking to “preserve traditional American values” displaced 8 out of 11 county commissioners in last November’s election, and several Impact-backed candidates won positions on various school boards. At their first official county meeting, the members disassembled the Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Office and implemented other drastic changes, paving the way for their conservative agenda.

I learned that on April 11, House Bill 4345 was introduced to the Michigan Legislature by Bill Schuette, R-Midland, looking to exclude religious and faith-based organizations from the expansion of Elliott-Larsen Whitmer just signed. Democrats hold the majority in Michigan Legislature, and it is unlikely such a bill will become law, but the majority is thin and may not withstand the next election.

All of this feeds the growing concerns I have about our state.

When I came to NYC last August, I finally experienced the freedom to exist without the awareness of potential negative repercussions in the back of my mind — not the stereotypical “college freedom” found when you no longer live at home, but a deeper ideological release.

As I finished my first year of college, I felt anxious about returning home.

I want to be proud of Michigan. I am proud of Michigan, but I don’t want to dread coming home. I implore my fellow Michiganders to contact their representatives to oppose H.B. 4345, and consider how we may stand up to the hateful rhetoric and policies put forth by organizations such as Ottawa Impact.

No one’s existence should be subject to debate. Michigan is my home, as much as it is yours, and we all deserve to feel like we belong.

Greta VanZetten is a Michigan native.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Opinion: Michigan LGBTQ teen wary of local right-wing politics