one person, many paths

i have had several events this week that have left me feeling like the odd person out.  it’s a space i often occupy.  but each situation holds its own distinct lesson.  weaving them all together to bring clarity into my life (and this blog) is the difficult part.

the other day i was having a conversation with my dear friend.  we were talking about friendship and what we want and need from our friends.  i’m kind of known for having insanely high standards for my friendships, or more accurately, for everything.  myself included.  i spent some time explaining how it may seem like i’m a crazy friendless loner.  but the people i do choose to have in my life mean the world to me.  what outsiders may see as intensity, i see as sincerity.  because i am an intense person.  if i don’t make some kind of impact, i’m probably holding back.  which can mean any number of things: i feel threatened, i don’t trust you, i don’t see how the interaction would be productive, etc.  this way of interacting with the world asks a great deal of me and the people in my life.  but in return, i have the most fulfilling relationships with everyone i interact with.  and, i think that’s pretty freakin huge.  i love it.  so i do it.  even though i have to sacrifice a lot.  [remember the blog "feeling the world"?  same deal.]

so after explaining all of this, my wonderful friend looked me dead in the eye and asked very seriously, “how long have you been this way?”  it made a laugh.  not very long.  long enough.  you know, any amount of time is a gift, and i’m grateful i’ve started.  but something that struck me was that i am definitely in the minority.  i told her a story about how i made the conscious decision to lie last week.  i did it mostly because i knew it made the person i was lying to feel better about the situation.  it was a very small lie.  it involved the explanation of one of my many facial expressions.  the woman i lied to had already decided what my “look” had meant.  so i just let her believe it.  cause it didn’t really matter and didn’t hurt anyone.  it did misrepresent me, but in such a minuscule way…i just let it slide.  and as i told my friend, this was the first time i have consciously lied in a very long time.  in fact, i can’t remember the last time.  i’m guessing a few months, but possibly longer.  i am much more likely to bite my tongue than to lie.  because it goes against who i like to be.  but i think most people lie pretty regularly.  at least on a small, “white lie” basis.  the way i interact with the world, while wholly gratifying, can feel somewhat isolating.  i feel like i’m on the outside of so many different worlds in almost every interaction i have.  it’s a very odd space to occupy.

here’s another story:  in my Intellectual Heritage/Mosaic I (yes, they really call it that) class, we had a very heated debate.  the topic started out with the Phillies, the Philadelphia major league baseball team.  i made some comment about how i thought it was ridiculous that the city spent so much money on this baseball team when it can’t even afford to keep its libraries open.  and BAM!  we were off.  this, of course, began a conversation about capitalism.  at one point, one of my classmates looked at me and said with disdain, “if you don’t like it, why don’t you go somewhere else?!”  is he joking?  go where?  to the magical part of the world where everyone is nice and resources are distributed equally and people are free.  oh right, that place doesn’t exist!  and even if it did, should i abandon my country, the place that i was born and raised and love, because i think america can be improved?  i should hope not.  this country is the great nation it is today because people have dared to make it that way.  we have come a long way.  and we have a hell of a long way to go.  i love my country enough to want to change it.  make it better.  help free, feed, shelter, and care for my country’s people.  i think we should want more people like that in our country.  not less.

later in this discussion, another one of my classmates voiced her opinions about WEB Du Bois.  in class, we’re reading Souls of Black Folk– a powerful and beautiful book.  she had the gall to call Du Bois a racist assimilationist who didn’t do enough for black people.  and i swear, i practically had to pick my jaw up off the floor.  i was just astonished that anyone would make such accusations.  so, i did what i always do.  i went to bat.  i said everything i could.  i wish that i could have been calmer.  but i was heated.  i was truly heated.  after so clearly being 1 against many in the capitalism conversation, i went straight into being that white girl who “plays the race card”.  i’ll be honest it was an exhausting class.

i am in school because i love it.  knowledge feeds my spirit.  it fills me up.  and i realize how great a gift it is for me to be in school.  so, in all of my classes, i give it my all.  i openly discuss my beliefs and opinions about things.  especially about race.  this is both a gift and a curse.  i think that some of my white classmates feel like i’m on the wrong side.  i see them look differently at me.  i think they see me as a race traitor.  but then, when i leave my classes and just walk around– no one knows my beliefs.  all kinds of people make all kinds of assumptions about me (to be fair, i do the same to them).  i think that is a perfect example of white privilege.  my beliefs are inside me.  no one can tell just by looking at me that i am anti-racist.

it leaves me feeling out of place with my white peers.  and also out of place with my peers of color.  it’s a whole other story off campus.  i live in west philadelphia, just beyond “Univeristy City” (a marketing ploy to sell gentrification and make rich white parents feel better about sending their children off to west philly in the blocks surrounding UPENN).  i live just one block away from 52nd street, a predominately black business street.  i love my neighborhood.  it is beautiful, the people are amazing, and i wouldn’t want to live anywhere else in the city.  i laugh when people ask if i feel safe here.  yes.  i feel safe here.  this is my home.  i feel safer here than i do in my predominately white upper middle class neighborhood back in michigan.

today for lunch, i went across the street up to 52nd to grab some food.  it was lunchtime, and the corner store was packed.  i was the only white person in the whole store.  some of the men getting lunch looked at me like, who is this white girl?  you know, i wonder the same thing sometimes.  it made me wish there was some kind of secret handshake or codeword that i could work to earn so that i could somehow prove that i’m not a crappy white person.  but i suppose that would be too easy.  i’ve just got to stick around, say hello, prove myself everyday.

this life isn’t easy.  most of the time i feel alone, out of place, isolated.  but amazingly, at the same time i am the happiest i’ve ever been.  and i know i am doing exactly what i’m meant to do.  i wish i had a word to explain it.  a way to make myself make sense.  but i have always walked on the outside, in-between, and where it is forbidden.  it’s who i am.  and i am proud of that.

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