A boy from Kansas

Growing up in Kansas, I was no stranger to the famous tale of a young girl named Dorothy who found herself whisked away to a magical land called Oz. The story was embedded in the culture and lore of my home state. After all, Dorothy was a Kansas farm girl, just like many people who grew up surrounded by cornfields and endless open plains that stretched to the horizon. But not all of us grew up that way.

Yet, nothing could quite prepare me for the constant questions and assumptions I would face whenever I ventured outside of Kansas. As soon as I mentioned where I was from, an all-too-familiar refrain would follow: "Oh, you're from Kansas? Do you know Dorothy? So did you have horses? Cows too? Did you grow corn?" My polite rebuttals of "Dorothy is just a fictional character and no, I didn't ride a horse to school, Kansas has cars already" would fall on deaf ears. They pepper me with questions before I can respond, envisioning my childhood as a rural country idyll straight out of a movie. They were also convinced that because I was a Kansan, I must be friends with this fictional farm girl who had somehow cemented herself in the minds of people worldwide as the quintessential representation of the Sunflower State.

But popular culture has planted images of Kansas as a wholesome farming heartland, thanks to iconic books and movies. Dorothy's tales of life on a Kansas farm in The Wizard of Oz didn't help, nor did portrayals of small town high school football obsession in Friday Night Lights. Little did I know back then that the story of a young farm girl named Dorothy who found herself magically transported from Kansas to the whimsical Land of Oz would leave such an indelible mark on my home state. Though fictional, Dorothy had become the quintessential ambassador for Kansas around the world. Her tale would also go on to shape the perceptions of my home in the minds of countless people who had never set foot in the Midwest.

While Dorothy was making her way down the Yellow Brick Road to see the Wizard, I was busy living my own mundane life. My world was filled with school, friends, and parties - not evil witches or cowardly lions. Yet no one seemed interested in my real experiences growing up in the heartland. They only wanted to talk about Dorothy.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the cultural significance and timeless appeal of The Wizard of Oz. So I've learned not to take offense when people assume I have hay stuck in my hair or can ride a horse before I can walk. When I tell them I'm a city kid, they seem genuinely surprised, as if they expect all Kansans to be cultivating fields from dawn to dusk. At least it gives me a chance to expand their horizons and highlight the diversity of my home state. But at a certain point, the constant Dorothy references grow tiresome. I can't help but sigh and politely remind them that just because I'm from Kansas doesn't mean I have some secret portal to the fictional land of Oz that I ride horses to. Yes, Kansas has farmland aplenty. But it also has cosmopolitan cities, major companies, and even some hills! Stereotypes may envision a rural wonderland, but beyond the amber waves of grain is a vibrant, modern state ready to be discovered, one perception at a time.

But inevitably the story of Dorothy always comes up and her little dog too, and even as I try to change the subject, a part of me knows it's inevitable. No matter where I go in life, as soon as people learn I hail from Kansas, the same question will always arise: "So do you know Dorothy?"