After returning to Chicago, my spouse and I lived in Lake Forest, one of those exclusive suburbs on Chicago’s North Shore. Our temporary gig turned into a multi-year suburban adventure while we waited for the building we pre-purchased a condo in to break ground. The condo project, delayed a number of times was finally canceled. Eager to migrate to the city, Tim and I hit the streets, looking for another condo in Chicago’s West Loop neighborhood.

Expecting our stay to be short, Tim and I didn’t own the place we occupied in Lake Forest. We took advantage of an employee benefit and rented a place near Tim’s office.

As we explored our old haunts in the city and began to meet folks, the question, “Where do you live?”, would bubble up. I would answer “Lake Forest, at the moment.”

Reactions to my response were never dull. I often saw a shift in how the person treated me, sometimes subtle, more often like the swift slap of an angry parent. The person I was chatting with now saw me through a “Lake Forest filter”, complete with their large set of designer baggage. It didn’t matter what came out of my mouth next or even that I felt like an outsider in the community where I lived. The filter was now on and I was a Lake Forest fag.

I was chatting with the clerk in Target the other day. Somehow she figured out I was new to the store and asked where I was from. I paused, and replied “I moved recently from Atlanta.”

After leaving the store, I contemplated why I said Atlanta. Tim and I have been back in Chicago for more than three years. As I chewed on that for a bit, I realized I was ashamed of my time in Lake Forest. All of the raised eyebrow responses and negative reactions to my living in Lake Forest had clouded that journey with shame.

I’ve never felt shame about a place I’ve lived, till now. The experience has been enlightening and I hope to keep my filters at bay and have an open mind the next time I ask the question, “Where are you from?”.