I possess an abudance of adoration and pride in my home of Alabama. There are so very many things I love about this state. The beaches, the mountains, the small town feel just about everywhere, the sense of community and the food, of course, are just a few of the many great things that are all specifically Alabamian.

The fact I can say that I come from a state so naturally beautiful instills in me a great deal of pride. I recently traveled down Highway 69 to visit Moundville State Park. It was an amazing experience, and I’ve never seen the Black Warrior River like I saw it in Moundville.

I do not, however, let this pride blind me from seeing the many wrongs of Alabama. As a conscious, civic-minded, black, gay man in Alabama, it is nearly impossible for me not to see them. The racism, the illiteracy, the poverty, the homophobia, the irony and hypocrisy of conservative politics … it’s overwhelming.

I love this state because it is my home and it, unfortunately, is where my family lives. Unrequited love is the story of my life, because as much as I love Alabama, it doesn’t love me back. Coming to that realization cuts deep and leaves a wound that is slow to heal and extremely susceptible to infection.

I am counter-culture only because of the fact that my skin is darker than most. It certainly doesn’t help to be a man that is attracted to other men either. I love myself and everything that I am, but these things can cause horrors for one’s self-image.

I thank God for the privileges I do have and the resources that comes from them. I thank God for being black, I thank God for being gay, I thank God for being poor, I thank God for being aware. If I weren’t, I couldn’t be assured that I would have the same schema I hold about the world today.

As negative as it is, it is real. It is real. Living in the South has taught me that you do not have to be blind to not be able to see. Whether you’re a minority or not, I implore you all to practice a little cross-cultural empathy.

Don’t be afraid of introspection. Get to know yourself and those around you, and ask critical questions of everyone, including yourself. If everyone did this so many things would be different. But I’m not holding my breath until everyone decides to get real.

Alabama is in such grave need of change; it evokes tears because change is met with such convicted opposition. Alabama is stuck in the past and the political body in Montgomery fights with great fervency to make sure we stay just where we are.

We have a constitution written in 1901 reflecting the zeitgeist of that era that is detrimental to our life and our chance to be happy and successful today. While the need for constitutional reform in Alabama is an issue certainly worthy of it’s own column, I would be remiss to mention Alabama’s stagnant politics if I didn’t mention its out-of-date constitution.

To be the most effective agent of change I desire to be, I cannot stay in this state.

Currently, there are no tools or resources for me or anyone like me to use to impede Alabama’s gradual descent back into the confederacy, as many want.

To bring change to Alabama, you have to go where change is happening. You have to be where progress is occurring. Here in Alabama, when we’re not moving backwards, we’re standing still. That does not make for an environment conducive for real, positive, forward change.

I have to leave one day, but until it’s time I will stay and try my damnedest to make things better. Every day it gets harder. Some days I am more prepared to deal with life’s struggles than others, but the harder it gets the more I realize how much I and like-minded people are needed. As long as I have my family and my God to lean on, I’ll be fine. Like Sam Cooke says, ‘‘a change gonna come… oh, yes it will.’’

Devon Morrisette is a junior majoring in interdisciplinary studies.