My parents, sisters, and I set foot in our home on Saturday for the first time after a much needed Thanksgiving break with the grands in Jackson, MS.

The majority of my school chapter has been written in Plano and Frisco, but for the first six years of my life, I lived in Brandon, MS. It’s a cozy yet typical small-town atmosphere, many of the houses sat yards away from a lake or reservoir and I can remember a couple amazing diners, located just east of the capital.

All of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins lived in the same pocket of central Mississippi, and when a new job opportunity prompted my dad to relocate to Dallas, we faced an odd decision as a family. At that age I had no concept of the scope of opportunity that north Texas had (obviously), and that was in 2007. Hard to believe that I have had the privilege of witnessing such an inspiring growth of one of the country’s largest metroplexes.

To say that I have always grown up in a bubble would be a wild understatement. Even if I had stayed in Brandon, I would be living in one of the wealthiest cities and attending one of the highest ranked high schools in the state, Northwest Rankin High School. I had little reason at that age and at that location to understand the more troublesome realities within my home state.

Some of you might be thinking that my recollections sound nothing like the buttery, old school reality of Mississippi for an African American, and that statement could not be more true, well sort of. I have lived both realities.

I love the other side of my home equally, if not more. Like I said before, Jackson is about a 15 minute drive East of Brandon. My grandparents and most of my cousins actually lived there. The state of Mississippi altogether has the highest African American population in terms of percentage at 37.8, and Jackson’s demographics alone probably look unidentifiable from the rest of the country; African Americans make up 81 percent of the population.

The JSU Sonic Boom is the people’s champ of college bands (not only out of the HBCUs), hip hop culture prevails, and I can guarantee the catfish tastes the freshest and is the most crispy.

But I digress. Those who have kept up with U.S. politics even remotely are aware that the midterm elections were held a few weeks ago and a third of our senate seats were up for grabs.

On Tuesday, Republican Cindy-Hyde Smith was voted into the final open seat in Congress to take the place of longtime GOP Senator Thad Cohran in the midst of failing health. In the race, Hyde-Smith faced off against Democrat Mike Espy. You can get yourself caught up on the basic details of the race and its candidates here.

While I was in Jackson last week, I caught my first glimpse of the senate race. My entire extended family was propped altogether in the living room with a live debate between the two candidates on full blast. I will allow you to create your own opinions on each candidate’s policies on the state’s economy, but Cindy Hyde-Smith has made a considerable amount of decisions as a Mississippian and as a human that I find very concerning.

Before I give more detail on that, I need to make sure you are aware that the state of Mississippi has arguably had the worst history out of all U.S. states in terms of racial relations. I have read a number of sources in the past few days that have referenced Mississippi as having the most reported lynchings out of the states. Although the state is not formally segregated, Mississippi has done a particularly poor job of picking up the pieces compared to other southern states. I was especially disturbed to observe that the neighborhoods in Jackson clearly indicate a racial divide.

I am firmly against Hyde-Smith’s recent courtship as a U.S. Senator because a number of her recent actions embody the racist attitudes that the country has gone through so much to try to eliminate. Hyde-Smith has received considerable press scrutiny for telling a supporter earlier this month that she would be “on the front row” if one of her public supporters “invited [her] to a public hanging”. Hyde-Smith claims that the quote had been taken out of context, but I struggle to understand how a statement with such a daunting connotation could have been misinterpreted.

The biggest problem is not the candidate; technically, our Constitutional freedoms warrant that a candidate for public office can say much more and much worse than Hyde-Smith has and not be suspended from his or her campaign.

Cindy Hyde-Smith is now a U.S. senator because Mississippians either voted for her or didn’t vote at all. I acknowledge my biased perspective on Hyde-Smith’s induction, but if I didn’t have any personal connection with the state of Mississippi, I wouldn’t be thinking very highly of its citizens, for two reasons.

Firstly, African American representation in the special senate election (and in every major election for that matter) was very disappointing and does not at all represent the impact of African Americans on the growth and identity of the state. I am genuinely thankful that my teachers and peers have stressed the importance of fulfilling my civic responsibility to vote for my representatives, and I strongly believe that predominantly black school districts throughout Mississippi should replicate this energy.

Secondly, the state as a whole does not seem to be shaken up at the slightest about the racial controversy associated with this recent election. It’s almost as if Mississippians (regardless of race) have developed this mentality of, “This is just the way things are here,” and fallen under the impression that racial tension is normal.

In increasing the scope of this situation beyond Mississippi, I am also disappointed that the general public has not shown a notable response to these past few weeks in Mississippi. Fortunately, I feel safe here in Frisco, and I have had no reason to believe that racial tensions pose a concern in my everyday life.

My reassurance is just as harmful as it is relieving though. I have lived in a bubble for my entire life, and if I had not been born in Mississippi, I would be blind to the troublesome sentiments and attitudes that exist there as well.

Of course, north Texas is by no means a utopia of places to live, and we have a host of social barriers that still need to be approached, but as someone who holds two very different states equally close to my heart, I challenge you readers, especially those who have lived in the greater Dallas suburbs for all of their lives, to take a step back, acknowledge the blessings and shortfalls of your city’s social climate, and do the same for that infinite number of cities, states, and countries that you do not call home.