The countryside of Colorado stretches far beyond the boundaries of our square state. The hard white marble that shines in the Lincoln Memorial was hauled out of the West Elk Mountains. Our sweeping landscapes have inspired lyrics that are sung in honkytonks and ballparks across the nation. Perhaps you moved here because you heard one of those songs. Or, perhaps you stayed here because the landscapes became a part of you.

On many weekends, the Front Range migrates towards small towns seeking the quintessential outdoor Colorado experience. To see those purple mountains in all their majesty, or to take a picture of “rain and fire” in the sky for Instagram. But, if you more closely examine the town behind the main street, there are problems that an Instagram filter can’t solve.

Recently, I was on the edge of a corn field with one of my constituents wishing that we had opted for the shady spot under the cottonwood. The young farmer told me that he wasn’t sure how much longer they could grow corn. Talking about growing corn was easier than what he was really saying: he didn’t know how much longer he and his family could call Colorado home. His insurance just keeps going up. He can’t find anyone to help him run his family’s business. The bumpy roads are eating up his trucks, and he’ll make less on this year’s crop than he made last year, and still with more and more expenses to cover. 

Now might be when you expect me to launch into what has become commonly known as the “War on Rural Colorado.” How we, out here in the plains and the mountains, are ignored and forgotten by the Front Range, and how the divide just continues to grow until we will eventually have not just a divided state, but a divided nation. 

But, the more I listen to Coloradans in all parts of the state, the more I believe that the language we use to divide us isn’t helping us solve problems. Don’t get me wrong, there are absolutely rural-specific issues – like a lack of high-speed internet in hard-to-reach towns – that still need to be addressed. Yet, the continued habit of using language that pits “us versus them” thrives on division, holds us back from progress, and is something you hear more often from political operatives – not community leaders. 

Politics dictates that division breeds weakness and failure. We know that when building a barn, you need as many hands as you can get. Or, when fighting a neighborhood problem, the more voices of support, the better. So, when we tackle issues, like the exorbitant cost of a hospital visit, or that your commute to work is getting worse, we have a better chance of winning when we stick together. 

Wars require enemies, and I don’t believe that Coloradans see each other as enemies.

If a teacher from Buena Vista visited a teacher from Aurora, they might share that they are both seeing hungrier kids in their classrooms. Bring a young family from Boulder to meet a family from Hotchkiss, and they will both agree that affording a home like the one they grew up in is getting harder and harder. A rancher from Deer Trail visiting with a business owner from Colorado Springs will share that the price of everything is going up – except what they are selling.

Colorado is a special place which firmly believes that hard work pays off, but, lately, that doesn’t seem to be the case for too many of our citizens.

On a clear day from the Capitol, I can see the snow-capped tops of the mountains I grew up in. Colorado doesn’t feel like two places then. It also doesn’t feel like two places when my Front Range colleagues support a rural economic bill I’m carrying, or vote for my health care bills that will help folks out on the plains and below the mesas more than it will help people in the cities. 

How would you define Colorado? Prairies that have nothing in sight but a horizon? A night game in the south stands cheering the Broncos? A perfect turn on a powder day? Buzzing through the desert in a jeep? Would you define it as exclusively rural, or exclusively metropolitan? Probably not. So, let’s not define the problems we must solve that way, either.

If we choose to separate ourselves, then we lose the power of fellowship and the ability to hold each other up when one of us can’t stand. 

?Instead of saying that’s their problem, let’s call them our problems and start building the barn from there. When we join forces to address issues like water and climate change, we find stronger solutions that meet the needs of everyone in all parts of the state. Sure, there will always be issues that need different solutions for different parts of the state. But, when it comes to battling for better pay for our neighbors, or resources for our kids, the basic needs of the person who grows corn isn’t all that different from someone who works at the mall in the suburbs.

Kerry Donovan represents District 5 in the Colorado state Senate and runs her family ranch near Edwards.