Stranger Things: Now Serving Tribe Party of One

 My very first first day of school, I went alone. No mom, no dad, just me. At the time, I guess, I didn’t think myself weird or even independent. It’s just what I wanted to do. And my mom let me. With a full forty-three years of perspective since that day, I realize that it couldn’t have been easy for her. I can’t recall if I took the bus or she dropped me off. For the record, I was the only lone wolf that day. Everyone else had a mom fawning over them (maybe a few dads were fawning but we are talking the early 70s so I’m skeptical) and drying tears. It wasn’t a seamless plan on my part. Teachers don’t pay attention to kids sans parents on the first day of kindergarten. Lost in the shuffle, I sat down on my lunch box (I think it was the Partridge Family – early 70s, remember?), elbow on knee, chin on fist, and waited. Before too long, someone noticed me.

Mom probably got judged pretty harshly for placating such independence in a five year old, but, man, that day was seminal in my early childhood development. It was the first time in my life that I knew I was different. Ok, strange. It was the first time I knew I was strange. And I assure you, it wasn’t the last. And believe me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s not that I don’t care what other people think. I do. I am human after all, and while I doubt that it’s exclusive to humanity, there is something to be said for giving a crap about how you interact with others. Maybe that makes me even stranger. I dunno. My goal is to be unobtrusive and polite. Always. This means that even though my hair might be askew, I’ll still have good personal hygiene. It also means that even if someone frowns or gets pissy, I’m still going to smile and say excuse me. You can ask me if you’re in the correct restroom (which – let’s be honest – is your way of asking me if I am) and I will nod and smile to acknowledge that you indeed are in the right place all the while swallowing and shouldering your close-minded assumptions about where I fall on the gender role spectrum.

And here we come to the crux of it, don’t we? The expectations that others have of me – and the roles they expect me to play – mean absolutely nothing. Think I’m strange? Different? Odd? Abnormal? Think I should be something or someone other than who I am? Keep on, keepin’ on because after nearly forty-nine years of riding this path, I’ve got this old saddle pretty worn in. It’s not that I’m impervious. It’s not always easy being the square peg in a world of round holes and sometimes I wish I could be more like everyone else. Occasionally I even wish I had a tribe.

Ponder for a moment what that tribe would look like. Too straight to be gay but too gay to be straight; too atheist to be spiritual but too spiritual to be atheist; too feminine to be masculine but too masculine to be feminine; too poor to be wealthy but too wealthy to be poor; too fit to be unfit but too unfit to be fit; too goal directed to be so unaccomplished but too accomplished to be non-goal-directed; too moderate to be fanatical but too fanatical about moderation to be moderate?

Eh, who needs a tribe anyway? Besides, if I had one, I’d no longer be different and that is totally unacceptable. I can’t imagine looking around and seeing carbon copies of myself. Even if the carbon had slipped a little and the copies were imperfect, I’d still end up feeling nauseous.

Here’s the thing, though, I don’t try any of this. Much like that first day of kindergarten, I just do what I do. I am who I am. Exclusively. It just so happens that at every single turn and blind curve, I end up being different. I’m used to it and, thankfully, ok with it.

I know others who are not. When they’re different, they feel like a stranger in a strange land – self-conscious, apprehensive, out of sorts. They retreat until they can put on the right shoes and fix their make-up. Well, that or they scurry back to the insulated safety of their own tribe.

I was speaking to a friend recently about my desire to leave the U.S. and live abroad. She’s originally from Argentina but has lived in America for more than a decade. As she prepares to return “home” for the Christmas holidays, she feels a bit apprehensive. After so many years away, she no longer feels completely Argentinian – in many ways, she’s become too American – however, she feels too Argentinian to be American. She is stuck somewhere in the middle – neither truly Argentinian nor truly American. Her caution to me was that one day I may find that I don’t fit anywhere. Too Swedish to be American, but too American too be Swedish, for example.

But isn’t that where I’ve always lived? Somewhere in the middle? Too much of one to be another and too much of another to be one? Take right now. I’ve lived in Texas almost fifteen years and yet I don’t feel Texan. I was born and raised in Southern California – lived there for 23 years – but I’ve been gone so long that I no longer feel native. I’m no longer from there. So if I’m not from Texas and I’m not from California, where am I from? Nowhere or everywhere, actually. Call it Differentville, USA.

What my friend doesn’t understand about me – not that she wouldn’t if I explained it to her – is that I have spent my entire life being a stranger in a strange land. While we often say, in a perfunctory  manner for the most part, that each experience of our lives leads us to the place we currently stand, I believe this to be absolutely true for me. Forty-eight years of different and not quite fitting in give me a strength few possess. I haven’t fit in San Diego, LA, Manhattan, Kansas, Muskegon, Michigan, Texarkana, Texas/Arkansas, or Austin, so whether I move to Las Vegas, Olympia, Washington, Stockholm, Prague, or London, I’m going to be odd. And I’m not going to find my tribe.

The great thing is (most people say it with a ground swell of derision but not me) wherever I go, there I am – different as all get-up and stronger for it. Oh, I may sit on my lunch box, elbow on knee, chin on fist, for a minute while I organize the chaos and find my bearings (wherever I go, I am still an introverted mess), but once I stand, look out.

Now serving Tribe Party of One.