The photo above was taken after this year’s Kentucky Youth Assembly (KYA), but before I attended the conference, it was completely blank. At KYA, I gathered people’s signatures from all around the Bluegrass State, covering almost a third of all the counties in our commonwealth. While this map will serve as a memento to remind me of my many years participating in KYA, it is also the embodiment of a grander, more recent theme in my life: my love for our home state of Kentucky.

Last summer, I had the opportunity to attend the Governor’s Scholars Program (GSP) at Murray State University, and my teacher had a similar map that he asked us all to sign. Back then, the only counties I was able to point out were Jefferson, my county of residence; Oldham, our dear Jeffersonian neighbor; Pike, where I had attended a service trip the summer prior; and Fayette, which is where Lexington is. Those in my class, as well as others I met, were from counties I had never even heard of, and assuredly not counties I could label on a map. Where in the world was Magoffin County? This lack of awareness about our state sparked a curiosity in me that, with the help of a new friend from Boyle County, I was able to quench, quickly learning the name and location of all 120 counties in our state. I had felt a little ashamed about my lack of knowledge surrounding Kentucky geography, especially when I learned that this epidemic of ignorance was one concentrated primarily in people from Jefferson and Fayette counties. I was not only frustrated that this stereotype rang true for me, but also worried about the sense of superiority and ego this ignorance helped perpetuate in our urban areas. I vowed to myself that I would never meet another Kentuckian I couldn’t place on a map, and since then, I haven’t.

Even before that, I had begun to discover the love I had for our state. The summer prior to my sophomore year, I had the opportunity to attend the Kentucky YMCA’s Y-Corps Service to the Commonwealth trip, which is a weeklong adventure of sleeping on gym floors and riding hot buses through every part of Kentucky, completing helpful service along the way to the communities that need it most. This trip, in a similar way to GSP, raised alarm bells in my brain about the way I had been approaching the rest of Kentucky in my mind. I had this sense of urban supremacy over the rural areas, feeling that I was better than most in my state because I lived in Louisville. Seeing towns like Whitesburg and Hopkinsville opened my eyes to the fact that there is much more culture, kindness, and intrigue in our state than I realized.

To those who are reading this and don’t see a problem with the way our cities think about our small towns in this state, I ask you this: How many times have you heard a senior at Trinity say, “I can’t wait to get out of Kentucky”? While there’s nothing wrong with wanting a change in scenery, something about the aloof tone this phrase is usually accompanied with bugs me. For a state most of us have called home for at least a decade, Kentucky receives a concerning level of disrespect from those inside its own borders.

I’ve learned from my own experience that the perpetrators of these anti-Kentucky sentiments usually haven’t seen as much of Kentucky as they think. They might’ve ventured into surrounding counties and driven in various directions on highways, but they’re yet to truly experience Kentucky. It is easy to get caught up in the empty fields seen on highway trips to Lexington and think, “Wow. Is this really all there is?” No! The valleys and open plains you see on drives through rural areas are not accurate reflections of the cultures, ideas, traditions, and people that inhabit our state.

So what are these things I keep referencing? Maybe it’s the incredible horde of writers Kentucky has produced, including Wendell Berry and Silas House, who are worth reading not just for the lessons they can teach us about home, but also for the greater messages they have toward life. Perhaps it’s the amazing, scenic land of the commonwealth, rediscovered by Daniel Boone, who simply said, “Heaven must be a Kentucky kind of place.” Or is it the deep, elaborate history of the 15th state admitted to the Union, seen in places like Harrodsburg and observed with stories like that of the Hatfields and McCoys? It could be the deep music tradition of Kentucky, where a coal miner’s daughter named Loretta was raised in Butcher Hollow and is now in the Country Music Hall of Fame. All of these are just small fragments of the grander picture of what Kentucky is — a place with a unique sense of self that is waiting for you to discover it.

Don’t get me wrong — I, too, am planning to leave this great state next fall, as I’ll be heading to New Hampshire for the next four years. I’m excited for a change of scenery. I’m excited for a new climate and new people. Eighteen years in one place is a long time. But you won’t see me smiling when I leave.