I am not ashamed! I’m proud to have been born in the countryside!
Greetings.
I’ve repeatedly noticed how city-born folks often look down on those who grew up in rural areas. They tend to think that life beyond their paved streets is inferior and that if someone from the countryside comes to the city for work, they’re taking a job that rightfully belongs to a city dweller.
But you know what? I’m not ashamed to be from the countryside. In fact, I wear it as a badge of honor.
I refuse to feel guilty for making a living in the city. Everyone has the right to work, grow, and choose how they want to live.
If stepping outside my small hometown for work was necessary, it doesn’t make me any less than those raised among glass and concrete.
The countryside taught me to be human
I was born into an ordinary family in a small village surrounded by fields, rivers, the scent of freshly cut grass, and homely kitchens.
From a young age, I knew what hard work meant.
I watched my parents rise before dawn to labor on the land, my father repairing fences after the rain, and my mother setting the table for the family to gather for dinner.
I learned to respect work because, in the countryside, no one expects someone else to do the job for them.
I learned gratitude because I knew the cost of the bread on our table.
I learned respect for nature because I understood our lives depended on its grace.
And I would never trade this experience for concrete walls, the hustle and bustle, the endless traffic jams, and polluted air.
People often say to me:
— If you love the countryside so much, why do you work in the city?
Think about it — why are thousands of people raised in villages compelled to move to cities? Is it because they prefer it there?
No. It’s because the system is set up this way. Employment opportunities in villages are dwindling, but families need to be fed.
But this doesn’t mean we’re unnecessary or worse than those born in apartment buildings.
I don’t want to live in the city, but I need to work
Truthfully, I don’t understand why people glorify city life.
Noise. Dirt. Apartments where neighbors hear your every move. Cars stuck in traffic for hours. People living next door but never greet each other.
Is this what you call comfort?
I live in my own house.
A spacious, two-story home with a large garden. I have my own vegetable patch, my own orchard, my own shed. I have a place where I can breathe deeply and step outside to see an endless sky, not just the grey walls of the building next door.
But yes, I have to commute to the city for work.
And yes, it’s inconvenient. If the car breaks down, you lose a day. The bus runs once an hour — miss it, and you’re late.
But I’m willing to endure this because the freedom and open space of my countryside life matter more to me than the concrete boxes of the metropolis.
Don’t belittle country folk, as ‘country’ isn’t an insult
Sometimes I hear people in the city call others “country bumpkins” with a sneer.
How amusing.
City folks think their way of life epitomizes success, yet more and more of them strive to move beyond city limits.
Buy a private house and think life’s perfect? But the moment someone from the countryside comes to work in the city, they’re labeled “provincial.”
A paradox.
Want the truth?
Among country folk, you’ll find more kind, responsive, and decent people than amongst many city-born.
In the countryside, helping each other is second nature. People don’t pass by when someone’s in need. They know what true camaraderie is.
And in the city?
You can live in the same building for decades and not know who lives next door. You can fall in the street — and no one will help. You can shout — and no one will hear.
So, who are the real “provincials” here?
If you have a “country mindset,” neither Paris nor New York will save you
Your birthplace is no measure of your intellect or character quality.
You can be born in the countryside and be a cultured, well-mannered person. Equally, you can grow up in the most prestigious neighborhood of the capital and remain uncouth.
The issue isn’t where you come from but the kind of person you’ve become.
So stop speaking disdainfully: “He’s from the countryside.”
Because the countryside is not a life sentence.
It’s my small hometown.
And I’m proud of it.
