Everyone wants to belong, yet people everywhere struggle to fit in. Some people feel detached from their families. Others struggle to find meaningful friendships. It might be helpful to know that this lack of connection could be because of where people live. Every state has a distinct personality and culture. It’s prudent to marry someone who complements our personality, and it may be wise to choose where we live using the same criteria.

I grew up in Iowa. Although I had a supportive family and good friends, I was a square peg in a round hole. People in Iowa say I’m too affectionate… too nice. If you want to get along, you don’t challenge an Iowan—yet examining our ways can improve our lives and help us grow. Iowans desire conformity over honesty, and I desire the opposite.

Iowa’s Wapsipinicon Park by Shelley Estes-Loy

I found this University of Iowa report interesting. I would describe Iowa’s personality as pleasantly unwelcoming. Iowans are polite, yet distant. They don’t like conflict and are resistant to change. It’s a state where smiling is optional and people are busy, busy, busy.

After having four children, I adopted two. When I walked with my white and black children, people whispered, stared, and raised their eyebrows. They never said anything unkind, but their actions spoke volumes.

Brattonsville, South Carolina by Shelley Estes-Loy

After living in Iowa for forty years, my family moved to South Carolina. I asked about fifty Iowans to help my family on moving day. When only one person showed up, my husband’s company came to help.

Following the moving truck with my van full of kids, I stopped at a stoplight a mile from my new home in Rock Hill, South Carolina. Someone honked at me, smiled, and waved until I rolled my window down.

“Are you Shelley?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m Cindi, and my family is on our way to your house!”

How bizarre. Why does this woman know my name? How does she know where I live? I was beyond nervous.

I turned into our neighborhood and noticed cars everywhere. The kids started yelling as I pulled into the driveway, and my mouth dropped open. About fifty people milled about our lawn. I opened the van door and our house inspector began introducing dozens of new faces. He had told his church that we had no family in the area, and they had come in droves to help us. They had filled the refrigerator full of homemade food and ordered pizza for after the move.

When we attended their church, we had instant family and friends. They made us feel welcome and loved. They wanted us in their lives. I felt whole and connected for the first time.

I went to my neighborhood YMCA and instead of facing cliques, I gained a dozen new friends. This group of friends met for dinner each month and a walk every week outside of class. People were warm, loud, and in my business. They made time for me.

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina by Shelley Estes-Loy

When I walked about in South Carolina with my white and black children, people spoke up. “What’s going on there?” “Are they all yours?” “How did that happen?” “Did you adopt?”  Yes, the people were nosy, but they were honest. I didn’t wonder what they were thinking. Although this isn’t for everyone, to me, it was refreshing.

The first time we checked out at Walmart, my kids commented on how slow the lines moved. I watched the cashiers interacting with the customers. I noted the general leisure in their movements. Yes, they were slow. At first, it annoyed me because Iowans are more efficient. But South Carolina wasn’t in a hurry. It was a different way of life.

Iowa’s Effigy Mounds by Shelley Estes-Loy

As we loaded our shopping bags into the van, a lady was loading her car next to us. She was on the phone telling someone she was late for work. When she saw my white and black children get into our vehicle she stopped me.

“Wow honey, you have black daughters? Do you have any idea what to do with their hair?”

Her nosiness would have upset the typical Iowan. “No,” I laughed. “I got these products in the store. Will they work?”

She looked at what I bought, shook her head, and motioned toward the store. “Let me help you.”

“I thought you were late for work,” I said as we followed her back inside.

“It’s only a fifteen-minute drive, and you’re more important. Work will be there when I get there. I don’t mind working a little longer.”

She spent ten minutes helping me find the right hair products and telling me how to use them. Then she hugged me. “Bless you, honey. You take good care of those kids now. Here’s my number if you need anything.”

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina by Shelley Estes-Loy

We had similar experiences in other places. At Aldi, people saw us and rushed over to offer me a grocery cart. When an elderly woman struggled with her groceries, a man raced toward her and offered his help.

One weekend, my kids and I sat in a hospital waiting room while they operated on my husband. A man offered my kids money for the vending machine, and I was leery. I’d never seen behavior like that in Iowa, so I assumed he must be a pervert. But afterward, when his wife was out of surgery, he asked for our number. A week later, his family called, brought food, and asked if we were doing okay. I soon realized that this was the personality of the state. It was their culture.

One day while working at a KFC on the bad side of town, a man came in that was not in his right mind. As the manager, I felt obligated to protect my employees as he became threatening. I was contemplating my choices when he began inching backward. Then he quickly left the store. Startled, I looked behind me and there stood every one of my employees. They had my back… literally. It wasn’t something they had to think about. It was in their blood.

South Carolina’s Shem Creek by Shelley Estes-Loy

In formal situations, my employees called me Miss Shelley. Otherwise, they called me honey, love, darling, or sweetheart. Other interesting things they say include: bless your heart, over yonder, hot mess, and y’all. When my pool man screamed for me to cut it off we almost had a problem. Iowans say turn it off.

The first time I went shopping in Charlotte, a man ran up to my cart. “Are you new here? From South Carolina, I bet.”

I nodded.

“Watch your purse, honey. You’re in North Carolina now.”

If I compare the five big personality traits, I’d say that Iowa and South Carolina differ immensely. Iowans are moodier then South Carolinians, but they are more diligent. Iowans are more creative and philosophical. South Carolinians are more compassionate and agreeable.

God’s beautiful creation is present in both states, but the people are nothing alike. The nice, caring, slow, and nosy people of South Carolina had time for me, and I liked it. I fit there.

Iowa’s Pike’s Peak by Shelley Estes-Loy

For family reasons, I moved back to Iowa. I looked forward to seeing my long-time Iowa friends again, but…they were busy. This spring when my doctor advised me to take a leave of absence during COVID-19, my company fired me. I’ve heard very little from most of my co-workers—reminding me of Iowa’s conflict-avoidance.

I miss South Carolina and my friends there, but my friendships have waned over the years. Even so, when I went back to visit in 2019, over twenty people met me for dinners throughout my stay. I know now that I do fit somewhere. And even if I never get to live there again, it is nice to know I belonged. Life took me to Iowa, but I’ll always be a South Carolina girl.