EVERYDAY LIFE
Is it just me? Or does every little town have a pull on those who grew up there?
“I’m not surprised you’re back. This town is like a black hole,” a friend said after my husband and I returned to San Angelo in 2022.
Our move brought back memories of my early 20s, living on Waco Street, looking after my grandfather.
This town is where I learned to drive; where I rescued my first dog.
For my husband, the Jersey Boy, it meant discovering life in West Texas for the first time.
Our life together leading up to this move had been one big adventure after another – we backpacked in remote forests, explored the East Coast, and more recently, we had settled down in Boise, Idaho, where our careers flourished and breathtaking natural landscapes surrounded us.
They say ‘You Can’t Go Home Again’
Moving back to Texas – San Angelo, specifically – was met with reluctance, but it was necessary. It was time to be around family for a while.
Things had changed plenty since I last lived here. Many of the old businesses I used to frequent were closed down, with new ones in their place, and most of my friends had moved away for college or the military.
A part of me was happy to be back, but it felt different.
The few friends who remained greeted me excitedly and welcomed my husband. But the words black hole lingered in my head and left a sour taste in my mouth.
It’s something I’ve heard all over the country at this point. But what do people mean when they say that? And why do so many places seem to feel it?
The Black Hole Effect
If you’ve heard your town referred to as a “black hole” before, it means what it sounds like: an unending and inescapable void that pulls everyone in – and never lets them go.
It may sound a bit dramatic, but for many young adults, it’s perhaps easier to say than, “I’m afraid I’ll always be here, and I’ll never get to live the life I want.”
It serves as a warning and a sad full-stop at the end of a social sentence of exile. And it’s usually said with pity from those who’ve moved on, or with bitterness from some who’ve stayed.
But it’s not unique to San Angelo.
Our Ever-Changing World
I’ve heard this saying all over the place, and it seems to be a common catchphrase for small towns, or places that feel like small towns, in general.
In Boyd, Texas, a tiny dot outside the Metroplex, for example, it was said all the time. For a town whose population has almost doubled from roughly 1,000 to a whopping 2,200, the black hole sentiment may ring true.
When I lived there, the hottest place in town was the local Allsups store, where the high schooler used to sneak off and smoke.
Your math teacher was also your neighbor, and you always ran into the same six people at the town’s only grocery store.
But San Angelo? We aren’t huge, yet we don’t feel as tight-knit as places like Boyd.
Why is our city a black hole?
Perhaps what makes San Angelo feel like a black hole is also what gives it its charm – we’re a big/small town… a small-town-with-benefits.
People like it here because it feels, in some ways, like a major city – with local events, downtown bars that stay open past 9 p.m., and even some popular attractions for tourists, like the Lily Gardens or the Concho River.
But in its heart, San Angelo still carries the blood of a small town, and we treat it as such through-and-through.
Small Towns: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly
Like just about every place on Earth, San Angelo has many admirable qualities, and some not so admirable attributes as well.
Gossip and Reputation
In small towns, your neighbor becomes your family. And your friend. And your enemy. Sometimes all in a span of days.
News about your personal business travels faster than the cars speeding out of town, and your reputation precedes you – even if you didn’t know you had one.
Have you ever noticed how quickly rumors spread? Gossip becomes the town’s favorite pastime, and it can make everyday life feel like a broken record.
Generational Cycles
In small towns, cycles are born, bred, and hard to break.
This is where your grandad rode his first bike, and it’s where he taught your dad, who taught you – right there under that oak tree.
It’s also where generations have learned which church to attend, whom to invite for Christmas dinner, and how to handle confrontation.
Cycles can be comforting, and sometimes they’re worth holding onto – but when they’re toxic, they feel more like shackles. And when family is involved, no matter how far away you go, these invisible threads have a tendency to pull you home.
Career Limits
Small towns often act as springboards for a young professional, where a tight-knit network can help set you up for success.
In San Angelo, that might mean hopping on the oilfield train, managing the local H-E-B, or driving a delivery truck like your family did before you.
These roles may offer stability, but a limited career pool can lead to quick burnout and demoralization for someone with higher ambitions. It can start to feel like you’re sacrificing your wants and dreams for a city that doesn’t seem to offer either.
Diversity Gaps
In San Angelo, I’ve found small pockets of inclusive community – places where differences are not only acknowledged but celebrated.
At a recent Open Arms LGBT+ mixer, an eclectic mix of personalities painted together, and the atmosphere made you feel comfortable to be yourself.
Friday nights at the Performing Arts Center welcome newcomers and long-time show lovers under the same roof to enjoy art from creative performers of all kinds.
You can also find markets, shops and sales, and themed parties all over town that offer acceptance over exclusion. But these places aren’t always easy to see until you get close.
And we all need fresh perspectives to push a city forward.
Growing up in a small town can mean being surrounded by people who’ve never left.
It can mean seeing the same faces everywhere you go.
At first, this repetition and predictability might be comfortable, but for some, local culture can start to feel short-sighted and even closed-minded after a while.
For young adults eager to explore the vastness of the world, life in a town with limited cultural diversity can feel stifling. They are eager to meet people who differ from them – people of different faiths, from different backgrounds, and who can share new ideas.
The intersections of these perspectives are where creativity, ingenuity, and vision thrive.
Without them, a town can start to feel like a black hole – where ambition doesn’t bloom, but gets buried.
Resistance to Change
Small towns often resist even the simplest of changes, holding tight to traditions out of generational loyalty or because “that’s the way it’s always been done”.
An idea as simple as potentially changing a school’s name can spark aggressive debate in board meetings and comment sections alike.
Of course, nostalgia has its place, and there is something to be said for a place that keeps traditions going, but shared rituals shouldn’t necessarily freeze us in time.
If you never feel free to change, growth can feel impossible. Either you brave the storm and pave your own path, risking social exile, or you stay, gaining belonging but sacrificing your dreams along the way.
In places tied up in the past, it’s hard not to feel the pull of the black hole.
Isolation and Loneliness
Small towns are isolated – and they feel that way, too. In San Angelo, we exist on somewhat of a desert island of our own, with major cities being hours away in any given direction. Other places, especially in rural areas, share a similar experience.
This is why each town feels like it is unique in its “black hole-ness”. Like nothing ever happens or changes, and no one ever leaves. Because when you’ve only glimpsed life outside the garden gates, it’s hard to imagine what is happening elsewhere. And ambitions can feel trapped like a star caught in a black hole.
The truth is that San Angelo, with its smalltown-ness, isn’t for everyone – at least not at every stage of life.
But it does have its perks, and if you stick around long enough, or maybe come back in the future, when you’re ready, like I did, you might get to discover them for yourself, or even bring some fresh ideas home with you.
And yet, for all its frustrations, San Angelo revealed that small towns aren’t just for escaping – they’re for re-shaping. And for every challenge, there’s a silver lining and a place for hope.
Community Collaboration
At San Angelo’s monthly Homeless Navigation Day, dozens of agencies come together to provide direct services under one roof, offering assistance and breaking bread with those who need it most.
Volunteers at the door help check people in and guide them to appropriate services, local organizations make breakfast for all in attendance, and outreach tables line the walls of the church gymnasium, ready and eager to serve the community.
Rather than operating on separate islands, like in most other cities, our nonprofits come together to harness the power of collaboration and provide comprehensive care where it’s needed.
Together, they work to make sure we don’t have neighbors falling through the cracks. This collaborative network is a shining example of smalltown greatness and how knowing your neighbors can come in handy.
Quiet Reflection
It’s almost unnerving how quiet it is here, especially if you’re like me and your brain requires a certain amount of stimulation to thrive.
However, I’ve found that when you lean into the silence — and really focus on the beauty around you: breeze flowing through the trees on the Red Arroyo Trail, a church bell echoing across empty streets, ducks splashing in the river – you unlock a rare kind of meditation and peace. And that’s something difficult to find in a big, bustling city.
Hidden Gems and Special Places
Sometimes, it takes a little digging to get to the good stuff. Maybe on the surface, San Angelo can seem disconnected and set in its old ways – but put in a little work, and you’ll discover some wonderful places that make you feel a true sense of belonging.
Bask in the hum of creativity at the Chicken Farm Art Center.
Enjoy a solo date at the Friends of the Library book sale, or, maybe explore your creativity at an open mic night, where you might make a friend — or even find a voice of your own.
I’ve met some of the most extraordinary people in San Angelo: artists, advocates, leaders and dreamers who, probably once saw this town as black hole, and felt stuck too.
But they’ve made this place what they wanted it to be all along. They’ve made it home.
Adventure into the unknown may eventually call us beyond the city-limit sign, but maybe when we return, we can bring back more than fresh ideas – maybe we can bring back hope.
Those who stay, and those who choose to come back, are the reason this place keeps growing.
First, though, we must learn to see our hometown for what it is – not as a black hole, but as a mirror, always reflecting ourselves.
