Home State "Natives" and American Migration

I'm from the East Coast, where curiosity about "native origin" typically involve nations rather than one of the states of the Union. However, in the American South and West, the "native" issue has a domestic focus as much as an international one. When I lived in San Francisco, I quickly grasped that "native" Californians were quite aware of their background. That sensibility, which largely ignores political ideology, was exponentially magnified by the concept of a "native" San Franciscan. It led to a definition of one's world in which exclusion was a necessary component. The perspective was similar to that I experienced in Italy, where one was socially defined in similar ways, and with linguistic dialects adding a layer of uniquely local identity.

This "native" phenomenon, and the unease about the most recent great domestic migration, extends beyond California. The LA Times recently picked up a story that originally appeared in the Las Vegas Sun about "native" Nevadans. According to the report, only 24% of Nevada residents could claim the state as its birthplace. The next two least "native" states, Florida and Arizona, could claim less than two out of every five inhabitants as born and raised within their respective boundaries. The issue seems to be a live one in Colorado as well: when my wife and I last visited there, we saw some license plates informally denoting the presumed owner's "native" status.

When I've talked with "natives" of a Western state, the conversation invariably becomes poignant. The influx of new residents, with the crowds and attendant development, modifies the character of an area. Typically, it changes from an easy rural charm to something visually homogenized. The sense is one of loss, rarely of gain. I know some LA "natives" and I enjoy learning about the drive-ins, remote escapes, and original homes now lost to the very doubtful benefits of "progress." Yet, even with the Angelenos' open conversation, I feel as if I've entered a private club for which I've been given a day pass.

I can't fully share their sentiment, even about where I reside now. In moments of doubt, I identify with New York, as I've lived much of my life in within the orbit of Manhattan. Yet, I'm not a native New Yorker. It's as if I've become fluent in a second language whose subtle nuances and behavioral expectations occasionally elude me. Despite that feeling, the New York area is my adopted home. Even though I don't fit into the "native" column on the Census Bureau findings, it's still mine. And that will more than do for now.