My Dear North Carolina,

As a state, you seem to be doing a decent job of making some pretty big waves lately. Not the good fun beachy kind of waves, either.

But before we get to that, I need to say this: You gave me the Avett Brothers, Cookout, Cheerwine, delicious BBQ and a hometown halfway between the beach and the mountains. I've often bragged about you, and have always been delighted when folks from other states gush about you..."Oh, I've heard it's just beautiful there." In the past six years I haven't spent more than a summer with you at one time, but you are still home.

Despite all that, I sat with tears in my eyes last week, because for the first time in my life I could not honestly say that I'm proud to call you home. I sat reading the reactions of anger, disappointment, and pain from so many of the beautiful, intelligent, loving people on whom you seem to have turned your back. And you've managed to do that in large part by claiming a Christian God as your primary motivator in an "issue" that isn't quite your business in the first place. I certainly don't claim to know everything, especially about God, but a God that would turn so harshly away from so many people is very different than the one that I know. All of that, however, is perhaps best saved for another day. My parents used to pull this one on me when I overreacted to their scolding: I still love you, I just don't love your actions right now.

But I refuse to give up on you. And you should know that this conversation is not over.

For the brief time I spent with you this past weekend,  I was able to feel comfortable. Comfortable is by no means always good. In fact most times it's probably not, and the reality of Amendment One remains wedged in my mind. But this year in New Orleans has been uncomfortable in many ways, and to spend two nights in a cozy, familiar town and house was wonderful. Your trees and green hills were a sight for sore eyes. And it is precisely because I love you that I am not willing to give up on you.

If everyone just up and left when they disagreed with the person next to them, conversations would never get anywhere. So I think I'll stay.

I'm not saying this conversation will be easy or that it will be over any time soon. But after Amendment One passed, I saw and heard a lot of comments that condemned you, as an entire state. Sometimes these comments came from states with similar marriage precedents already set, others from elsewhere. Whether these commentators weren't aware that there are people like me who disagree with you or whether they chose to ignore that fact, I think we can agree that it'd be best if the things people (and national newspapers) are saying about you were positive, yeah? Can I relate to their discontent with recent events? Of course. But you are not hopeless.

I know that change does not come comfortably or immediately. I am also not so bold as to assume that me writing this will change your mind, or that my one tiny voice will by itself change the tides of discrimination. But I know that I am far from alone where I stand here. I care about you, my dear North Carolina. And I think that, someday, we'll be alright.

Love,
Allison.