I’m From Chicago, But I’m Really Not.

Don’t you hate it when people say they are from Chicago, but actually live in a very affluent and white suburb of Chicago?

Yeah. It doesn’t bother me, either. Get the fuck over it, crybabies.

It’s a mass illusion created by cityfolk that when anyone says they’re from Chicago, but they’re really from Naperville, they must live in a 5-bedroom, 3-bath single family home with a Lexus and 3 kids who are all honor roll students. I’ll be the first to admit I wish I had that lifestyle…..minus the kids, because…..fuck that.

I struggle to find any reason why these special set of humans would take such huge offense. You’d think you’ve violated them in such a way that they can never regain their dignity. Or that you’ve robbed their house; kidnapped their kid; you’ve afflicted them with ball cancer; put ketchup on a Chicago hot dog.

There are many theories why these special humans take such great offense. Such as:

The internet. People never used to be so persnickety about your geographical location until social media. Some disgruntled teenager got his heart broken by a girl living in Winnetka and felt great need to proclaim to the world that there are a bunch of fucking liars living among us, and is taking his hometown of Chicago down with the rich girl. He takes to the computer and generates a meme. The meme is a map of Illinois with bright red arrows pointing to Chicago (I know you’ve all seen it, but I’m not wasting precious time and resources to locate the meme just to post it here.)

It’s a war of economic class. I might as well not pussyfoot around this theory. And really, it’s not a theory. The reason Sox fans loathe Cubs fans so much is not because of the teams themselves, but somewhere along the way a disgruntled fan (or the media) implied that the north side was wealthier than the south side of Chicago, and with wealth comes snootiness. The south side, known for hardcore blue collar workers (never mind the shootings, gangs, et al., I will leave that for you to discern.) frown upon those living in the north side based on this premise. To say you’re from Chicago when you’re actually not falls under the same category.

It’s a war of political class: I might as well not pussyfoot around this either. Since the dawn of man, Chicago screamed blue while the rest of the state is red. To say you’re from Chicago when you’re actually is an insult to Chicago’s Democrat citizens: you don’t pay Chicago taxes, ergo, you’re not poor like them, and you put ketchup on your hot dogs. You wanna be them, but at the end of the day you go home in South Barrington and kick your feet up in front of the cozy fireplace. Not cool dude. You are a hypocrite. And city folk don’t like hypocrites! (Even they vote hypocrites in office. Repeatedly. Again, I will leave it to you to discern.)

Still, don’t let these theories discourage you from saying you’re from Chicago when you’re actually not. Here’s how:

If you were born and raised in Chicago: you should get a free pass. You’ve gone through the motions of living the city life; attended Chicago public schools; paid Chicago taxes; experienced diversity in all its finest (the good, the bad, and definitely the ugly). And…..you spent your formative years living under the mayorship of Richard M. Daley. Fuck you, motherfuckers. I’M FROM CHICAGO.

Nobody living in St. Lucia has ever heard of Champaign: Many years ago, my husband and I stayed at a resort in St. Lucia. There were people from all over the world. We encountered one couple, with broken English, asked where we were from, and we replied, “Chicago.”

“Oh! Chicago! Boom, boom!”

The couple was not alluding to Chicago being the murder and gun capital of the world. They said that with regard to Al Capone. Even to this day, Capone has left a passionate and endearing impression on my city. Can you say the same about Champaign, Illinois?

There’s absolutely no reason to be that specific about where you live in casual conversation. No reason whatsoever. It’s none of your business. Period.

Don’t let the crybabies ruin your fun. As I sit here gazing at the waterglobe of the Chicago skyline, I will think of you. As the glitter cascade over the Sears Tower, I will now think of them as teardrops of betrayel. And that makes me happy.

I’M FROM CHICAGO BITCHES……but I’m really not. 🙂

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