Everyone has a reason for being in Detroit—staying, coming, returning, passing through, stopping by, whatever. Though my Detroit experience is pretty charmed, I haven’t had too many “Detroit” conversations where the conversation doesn’t end up at “why Detroit?” Jobs, art, taking stances, exploring, graduating from the suburbs, and having something to talk about are all common topics, and the rare born-and-raised is always welcome. I can’t recall living in any other place where the origin story is as fundamental.

And each person’s story gets thrown in the wash with the rest, so there’s constant chatter in the areas of legitimacy and “realness.” Detroit is this grand fiction, after all, a story or a metaphor more often than a living city. To fit—and please the critics—you need to be the right kind of character.

It took me a while to sort through my own feelings about what (or rather who) is “right” or “wrong” here. I’ve arrived, for the most part, at agnosticism: if you’re not doing harm, then I don’t care how you choose to live and be comfortable. What continues to tumble around in my head, however, is the complicated rubric for “realness” itself.

What city has only good people? What economy exclusively hums to the sound of responsible capitalism? Where can you go, besides a lake town in Minnesota, where everyone is righteous and well-read and above average?

Ask some folks why they like their hometowns and they’ll say “the people.” Detroit is certainly not an exception; sometimes the people have to work extra-hard to cover the deficits. But surely “the people” includes all people, right? The good and the bad, the right and the wrong? Not everyone is an entrepreneur, not everyone works for free, not everyone has roots here. Not everyone has a claim to the brand, and, more importantly, not everyone wants one. Sometimes paying property tax is enough. Sometimes it’s fine to still think Corktown is cool and crazy. Sometimes Detroit is just another place in this world.

The passion for “right” is inspiring, and not always unhealthy. Obviously the folks who embody it have nothing but the best intentions. Obviously we’re better off with it than without it. It’s an exhausting passion to meet every day, and sometimes it’s nice to crack into a Stroh’s, fully aware that they don’t make it here anymore.