You're imperfect, and you're wired for struggle, but
you are worthy of love and belonging.
~Brené Brown
| Here’s a confession—I want to fit in. Yes, it’s true. Turns out I'm not the only one. As a child, I remember desperately wanting friends but I was incredibly shy—the type of shy girl who hides in her mothers skirt all the time. My mom describes me as a child who was afraid of just about everything. So you can imagine that making friends would probably be a painful task. And you would be correct. I got lucky here and there with kids my own age who lived in my townhouse complex. My mom liked to play tennis and had friends with children my own age—so they were destined to play Barbies with me whether they liked it or not. Making friends? Painful. We moved the summer before I started Kindergarten so neighborhood friends were gone. I thought that was the end. |  Photo Credit: Pixabay (I wish I had access to photo albums) |
 Sleepy Hollow Elementary School--where I attended K-5  | And then Kindergarten started…that was when I met my first best friend—in the bathroom. We were in the our individual stalls and one of us (I can’t remember exactly who) said, “Want to be friends?!” We both agreed. Well, that was easy! The hard part was going over to her house for our first “play date”—though we didn’t use that term in the 70s. We just went over to our friend's house to play. I thought I was going to be swallowed up whole while on her front steps after ringing the doorbell— a total commitment to wanting to be seen. Oh the agony!! No one answered. Oh thank heavens…that was much better than the possibility of being rejected. She agreed to be friends while in school but maybe that was a cruel joke. I think my mom and I did call ahead but the family may have gone some where last minute. The next play date was successful and for several years I had a best friend. |
Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.
~Helen Keller
Photo Credit: Pixabay I had other neighborhood acquaintances but there was something about this friendship that was special. I can’t put my finger on it exactly—I just knew that I fit in with at least one person. Her mom was very strict but that was because she wanted us to be the very best we could be. Though this friend was better at everything: ballet, reading, math, whatever. Even the boys on the playground liked her better. However, she honored our friendship and life was good. And then my parents divorced. I felt like a social pariah. I was the first one among my friends to have divorced parents. Fourth grade was the worst year, but some how I survived. Then her family moved across town and I was crushed. We still had sleepovers but it wasn’t the same. She had new friends and was escalating in life. Then my mom moved us across town and I was the one making new friends. We managed to keep in contact and the time I could spend with my best friend was cherished. Then my mom decided we would move across country to California (where she’s from and where I was born). While we wrote letters and our moms exchanged Christmas cards, I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to move on. I saw her the summer I turned twenty-one and that was a miracle and that was the last time I’ve seen her. I imagine what her life is like and if I could ever find her…but we’re in our forties and that seems silly. Maybe it’s not so silly.
| The friends I made at my church camp in my childhood have a similar place in my heart—the only difference is that I get to see them on a regular basis since our camp is all ages. I see friends there who have been my friend for decades—even all the way back to when I was five years old. It’s pretty amazing. And yet, the five year old me creeps out from time to time. That part of me who is scared to death about being accepted. Yes, it’s true. I’m sure I’m the only one out of 7.4 billion people on the planet who feels this way who worries about such things (sarcasm). These friends have been there for me during the time I referenced above as well as all (five) back and forth across country during my tween/teen years. And yet…that scared little girl surfaces from time to time. She resurfaces when I learn some new aspect of myself that I would like to share with the world. She resurfaces when I have to speak up for others in the face of injustice. She resurfaces when I need to what's right but not always easy. She's there for this and more. I've learned how to keep her quiet most days but dang if she doesn't come out to play at the most inconvenient times. |  School photo around 1st grade |
People who cannot invent and reinvent themselves must be content with borrowed postures, secondhand ideas, fitting in instead of standing out.
~Warren Bennis
Photo: Pixabay You get the idea. It’s been a life-long struggle to find out who my authentic self is--apart from the scared child inside and gain the confidence to share that with the world. For the longest time I identified with the alternative scene—known as punk/new wave “when I was younger.” This community hated posers so I did some stuff I’m not proud of in order to…fit in. Oh, the irony. I was able to be tough because I was tired of just about everything. I didn’t care. I hurt others (for which I am atoning daily) because I was hurting…classic case. I didn’t want people to get past my armor because they would see who I was, judge me, and find ways to hurt me. I was tired of being hurt (childhood/adolescent issues). As years went by, the layers grew thicker. When I moved to Michigan in 2005 I found an awesome teacher, mentor, and healer who helped me dig through the layers (in a safe space) so that I could find my authentic self—you know, since I’m in the business of helping others doing the same thing. And here I am, more fully realized with some more healing to do—which I will.
It’s been through my work in a queer campus ministry where I first heard the term intersectionality. It’s a new concept for many. In case your not familiar, here is a definition (yes I’m using Wikipedia—but it has good source notes for this piece): “is a term first coined in 1989 by American civil rights advocate and leading scholar of critical race theory, Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw. It is the study of overlapping or intersecting social identities and related systems of oppression, domination, or discrimination. The theory suggests that—and seeks to examine how—various biological, social and cultural categories such as gender, race, class, ability, sexual orientation, religion, caste, age, nationality and other sectarian axes of identity interact on multiple and often simultaneous levels. The theory proposes that we should think of each element or trait of a person as inextricably linked with all of the other elements in order to fully understand one's identity.” And while I come from a place of privilege most days—I appreciate this concept in helping me better understand the person who is in front of me. And yes, myself. Here is another source for Kimberlé Williams' work on intersectionality.
Photo Credit: Eris Eady
A friend of mine shared this image on social media the other day. I received permission by the creator, Eris Eady, to share the image. It is her rendering of interesectionality. It is beautiful and complex—like us. You can find her work in the world here.
Most likely our need to fit in and find a sense of belonging will be part of the human condition for at least a few more generations. If I really think about it—I’m already in goody company with this need to fit in…and then I ask myself, "Was I ever meant to fit in?"
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