I'm not sure what to do with being somebody's This article is an exploration of my own sense of being Othered (Brown, 2005) in contradictory ways, and the responses to that othering my research is taking, arcing between postcolonial theory and transnational theory--all the while, looking for home. On one hand, I'm nobody's Other. White, married, presently living in a middle-class home; what could be more normative? Writing this as a self-reflection likely fits the norm of progressive, liberal White women trying to find themselves, too. I cringe about this over-autobiographical reflection, but I need to write this. The perspectival voice I try to articulate is one that has been too long suppressed (Delgado, 1989). This article is an attempt to decolonize, to claim the voice from drowning in Whiteness, capitalism, patriarchy (Smith 1999)--the many faces of hegemony. It is also an exploration of my positionality as an educational researcher and my attempts to locate myself in the historical moment, which is strongly linked to transnationalism. Theoretical Beginnings Postcolonial theory best frames the story of the place where I grew up, a place where structures of power were generally mystified by my formal schooling but where subaltern resistances created fissures which would support my adult discovery of postcolonial theory and my yearnings to reframe the story of where I was raised. I share some of those subaltern resistances and theorize more broadly about the conditions of my home state, West Virginia, and how it has been internally colonized in the U.S. I explain the postcolonial sense of exile (Said, 2000) I have experienced as someone who is now an outsider to West In this article, I explore demonstrative events from growing up in West Virginia, the ways race plays into the postcolonial condition and the role of poor Whites, and how West Virginia's historical trajectory has become better explained through transnationalism. I then turn toward transnationalism as a conceptual acid which can be used to demonstrate the contestations, interruptions, and contradictions of globalization (Briggs, McCormack, & Way, 2008, p. 627). I theorize that my exile has pointed me in the direction of transnationalism, in both my life experiences as someone who became bilingual after living off-and-on for many years in Mexico and in my research agenda, where I seek to highlight what can be learned from the potential of those who live their lives in both hybridity and transnationality. As a first-generation college graduate from a working-class West Virginia family, I am someone's Other. In Theorizing modernity in Appalachia, Susan Keefe explains: Mountain people have been typically cast along with non-Western peoples as the Other in the modern paradigm, representatives of an earlier traditional era at one end of a unilinear continuum with modern Western society marking civilization's progress at the other end. (2008, p. 160) I think to middle school when my brother, a graduate of West Virginia University, explained what it was like to attend college in our home state with so many people from New Jersey. They come to West Virginia to study because it's so cheap, but they all think they are so much better than West Virginia. This sounds just like the kind of tourism and even credentialing available to individuals from the centers of empire who visit former colonies for similar reasons. Sure enough, three years later after I got out of West Virginia at 18, I was on a study abroad trip to Guadalajara, Mexico, in a bus, with a young woman on the program from New Jersey. I had been lucky and gotten out (typical brain drain phenomenon of former colonies and economically backward places like West Virginia). She argued with me, red in the face, that people from West Virginia simply were not intelligent. She did this in front of the 20 or so student colleagues and faculty advisor from my small liberal arts college based in North Carolina. …