That 4 Letter Semi-Word

While the first posts were meandering thought, I genuinely hope to spark some discussion with this one.

I was in the airport on Wednesday and after having a movie moment (think opening scene from Love, Actually) with my very first best friend, we went to the gift shop for postcards for her to take back to the poor souls of Indiana who don’t know what mountains are. It was there that it happened, an assault on my very identity.

Any Coloradan knows what the vintage license plates look like, the green mountains with the white sky, and that now there’s a line of bumper stickers featuring said design, flaunting a characteristic of the driver. Really, anyone who’s driven near the 303 in their lifetime has seen RUNNER or NATIVE on the back of a Subaru at one point; they’re ubiquitous, but more importantly, they’re marketable. Colorado is a state to be proud of. It’s like “Oh, you run? I run at a mile high.” or  “When I learned state history in 4th grade, I drew a rectangle and got full credit. Your move, Texas.”  

I was admiring the wall of adhesive self-advertisements when a new one caught my eye (a rarity, like I said, they’re ubiquitous) and it made me cry a little on the inside.

Semi-Native.

First of all, what does that even mean, semi-native? I challenge you, reader. Google “native definition” and see that I am not lying. A person born in a specified place or associated with a place by birth, whether subsequently resident there or not.   One more time: A person BORN IN a specified place or associated with a place BY BIRTH. Really, how can someone be semi-born in a specified place? Challenge #2, google how many babies are born mid air, then try to figure out how many of those births happen in Colorado airspace. By definition, only that number of bumper stickers should be made, and honestly, should be bought by the airline responsible for the safe delivery as congratulatory gifts to the newborns.

Maybe I’m putting too much influence on the preposition. But that means someone must be semi-born. That one is harder to explain, and much messier, and slightly more gruesome depending on how deeply you think about it. So I’m moving on from that. But feel free to hypothesize in your own time.

That leaves the final option, and the most likely, which I must therefore accept by the principle of charity. People disregard the true definition, nay, the etymology of the word native (Google challenge #3) and think it refers to the rearing and raising, the life lived. Fine. They’re wrong, but I’ll play along for the sake of the post.

I understand feeling like you belong somewhere even though you weren’t born there. Colorado is an awesome state, it makes sense to want to be a part of it. But we have a word for people who move here. It’s called transplant. Put that on the back of your car, not this ridiculous excuse for a word. Semi-native... Pah!

So maybe I’m a little possessive of my nativity. Just a little. But the truth is, I am damn proud to be from Colorado. I love my sports teams, I love my sunrises and sunsets, I love all four of my seasons, I love my state history and my state’s future. So yes, it bothers me that people call themselves “semi-natives”. That’s like Benedict Cumberbatch calling himself a semi-brunette even though it’s a dye job. You weren’t born that way. It’s okay, we accept you for it. Just call yourself a transplant and (as long as you don’t admit to being from Texas) you’ll be welcomed into the family. (If you’re from California, don’t bother lying about it, your driving will betray you in the end.)

That being said, please let me hold onto this small piece of pride, and don’t dilute it with your four-letter qualification. I am a Colorado native. The only “semis” that belong here are on the highways. I don't normally feel inherent dislike towards people or things or ideas. This is just one of the times that reminds me occasionally that I have raw nerves. Please don't hate me. Especially not when I duplicate this sentiment after a day of skiing.