By Angela Rodriguez Prilliman
“You better be careful. That place can suck you right in.”
“It’s like Austin on hippie steroids.”
“Y’all can’t even bring a gun?!”
These were a few of the things my well-meaning family and friends in Texas had to say about our move to San Francisco in 2011. John, my then boyfriend, was offered a job at his best friend’s start-up. The only thing I knew about start-ups at the time was from the Facebook movie.
I knew that I would miss Fort Worth. So I grabbed everything I could to ensure that my new home would still feel like my old one. Texas flags, cowhide desk accessories and anything with boots or bluebonnets on it were must-haves.
But as someone who appreciates the more traditional and conservative things in life, nothing prepared me to feel like such an outsider in the most liberal city in the world.
It was quite the adjustment, to say the least. Wearing sweaters in the summer and bringing blankets to the beach — not to sit on, but to keep warm—was a foreign concept. And it annoyed the hell outta me that I couldn’t find iced sweet tea anywhere and that no one I met ever talked about college football. Or sports in general.
Culture shock set in pretty quickly. Normally, I’m a loudmouth who doesn’t know when to shut it. However, the more casual the conversations and encounters I had with people were, the less comfortable I felt in my own skin.
“You go to church?” one girl asked me. “Aww, that’s really cute.”
I nearly choked on my Dr Pepper.
A mix of confusion and horror washed across my face. This was like the California version of “Aww, bless your little heart!” A holier-than-thou way of writing someone off, unless the speaker is a 70-year-old-grandmother.
I wasn’t expecting this condescending side of San Francisco. Considering the city’s vibrant history of peace, love and acceptance, I was taken aback. This same situation played out multiple times with different groups of people. Anytime someone asked me why I couldn’t go to brunch on Sunday, I grew fearful of the labels people would give me when I answered. The last time this happened, an acquaintance looked at me in disbelief and mumbled, “I don’t know, I just … you just … seemed educated.”
I wasn’t expecting this condescending side of San Francisco. Considering the city’s vibrant history of peace, love and acceptance, I was taken aback.
Well, you don’t say.
Does everyone in the city think this way? No. But it starts to get under your skin a little when it happens as often as it does.
Another thing San Franciscans just couldn’t wrap their heads around: my plans to wait to have sex until I was married.
I lived with my boyfriend for six months. Yep, even though I promised my conservative family and friends that I wouldn’t. Oh, the humanity! I didn’t have a job and couldn’t afford the rental prices here.
When I was finally back on my feet, I moved out. Strangely, people made more comments about me moving out than about the fact we were actually living together. My more conservative friends understood where I was coming from. They also knew we were saving ourselves until he put a ring on it.
Yep, you heard right. We waited to have sex until we were married. People like us do exist here! Religion aside, I believe that waiting until you have the mutual, selfless commitment from someone you love is healthier emotionally than what the current hookup culture has to offer. I was a part of that culture in college before I became religious, and it felt pretty empty.
So we waited until after the wedding. And no, I didn’t die from not having sex, as many in SF would have you believe. It was hard, for sure, but my life wasn’t less fulfilling without it. In fact, it took a lot of the pressure off of our relationship.
With all the gory details aside, now that I’m married, I still believe that sex is a beautiful, powerful and sacred thing. As is marriage. I don’t feel that either should be treated as flippantly as they are sometimes. Many here in the city don’t agree. Some do, in different ways — why else had there been such a big push for marriage equality if it weren’t a big deal?
Which brings me to another misconception people have about conservative people like me: that just because we go to church, we’re somehow against gay rights.
I have tons of friends who are gay, and it doesn’t make any difference in how I interact with them. Friends are friends. However, I know that back home, many of my Southern friends and I avoided (and still avoid) actually talking about the ins and outs of being gay. But you can’t really get away with that here.
Living in San Francisco really made me face reality. My friends’ reality. The world’s reality. And while I don’t speak for everyone, I always supported my friends’ right to marry. I’m still wrestling with how this reconciles with my faith and my view of marriage in general, as many in my community are. I hope for understanding as I sort these things out, though.
Another thing I’m trying to sort out is my recent urge to smoke weed. This may not seem like a big deal at all, but to someone who is conservative this is shocking.
Living in San Francisco really made me face reality. My friends’ reality. The world’s reality. And while I don’t speak for everyone, I always supported my friends’ right to marry.
I’ve always had a negative view of pot. Back home, the only people I knew who smoked regularly were mostly burnouts. I’ve always associated pot with laziness and a lack of motivation. As I got to know more people in the Bay Area, though, I slowly realized that almost everyone around here, from Ivy Leaguers to Googlers, either smokes or has smoked before. My sheltered mind was blown.
In Texas, marijuana is illegal. There is no gray area. My Bible tells me I’m not to get drunk but to instead be filled with the spirit! But is being just a little high the same as being drunk? As you can see, I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not.
So I guess SF has rubbed off on me more than I originally thought it would.
I recently moved out to Berkeley, and I have a great view of the city from my apartment’s rooftop. When I look out over the bay, I’m reminded of all the incredible experiences and friendships I’ve made over the past few years. This place has sucked me in, in a good way. However, there are some beliefs I still hold tight: that you should always say, “Yes, ma’am” and “Yes, sir,” and I don’t think I’ll ever get the whole vegan/vegetarian thing y’all got goin’ on here. (I like my steaks mooing.)
So I guess SF has rubbed off on me more than I originally thought it would.
One thing I’ve really come to understand here, though, is that whether you consider yourself conservative or liberal, Christian or atheist, it’s important to get to know the other side. I hate even saying the “other” side. In today’s media-overloaded world, issues polarize people so quickly. Someone posts an opinion on Facebook, and all hell breaks loose. People tend to view things as black and white. You believe this thing or that thing. You are “us,” or you are “them.” Agh! Is anyone else as over that conversation as I am?
Here’s how I feel about it all: You can listen to people’s stories and be supportive of their truth, all without watering down what you hold to be true for yourself. And now that I’m pretty settled into San Francisco living, I’ve also come to realize that while being different is a little uncomfortable sometimes, it’s pushing me to grow as a human being. So I’ve stopped trying to get people to agree with me that country music is good or that George Dubya wasn’t all that bad, which frees me up to focus on something better: genuinely caring about and getting to know people in the City by the Bay.
