Fitting In--Or Not
This is triggered by reading a Nadia Bolz Weber sermon about the Woman at the Well. She reflects that the woman may have gone to the well at noon instead of the usual women's hours in order to avoid the shunning and judgment she had experienced. Nadia, in her time, took her children to playgrounds at odd hours because she didn't feel a fit with the other moms.
I immediately time-traveled back to my first--and last--invitation to a gathering of stay-at-home moms in my new upscale, suburban neighborhood. It was a tea that turned out to be a fundraiser for the hostess's sorority. I arrived at the appointed time--a bit before the full group assembled with little ones in tow.
It was probably just polite getting-to-know-you talk. Having recently moved from another suburb, I had not yet met my neighbors. Yet, I quickly felt the questions as more like an interrogation. I responded, telling about my part-time job in a medical laboratory. I talked about my three-year-old son and the nursery school he attended a couple days a week. I talked about my avocation, music, and my involvement in local musical comedy productions. I may have even mentioned my participation in the National Organization for Women (NOW) in that time when we were lobbying for the Equal Rights Amendment. I don't remember now. But it did emerge that my husband and I were renters, living in the upstairs of a Victorian two-flat, possibly the only non single family occupancy homes within blocks.
I soon realized that I had become the center of attention--some kind of exotic bird. No. That's way too positive. I was more like a cockroach that had crept out of the walls in that designer kitchen! The conversation quickly turned to more interesting topics--husbands, most of whom were junior executives or lawyers working toward partner, all with briefcases and in navy blue suits, commuting to firms in the city on the train (not on the subway). My husband rode his bicycle to the nearby hospital where he dabbled in body fluids in his white lab coat dotted with holes from splashed acids and other caustic chemicals. On nursery school days, our son was often perched on the bicycle carrier on the back fender.
As I mentioned, this was also my last invitation. I simply didn't fit. And that was a two-way street. The highlight of my life was not a getting a babysitter so I could enjoy a monthly lunch with hubby in the city. Or remodeling plans that I could not imagine being able to afford.
I try to think back to how this made me feel, but it was so very long ago. I was not devastated, as far as I recall. This was not unique for me. Not the first time I was on the fringe of the inner circle. So, I probably shrugged it off. Yes, I was lonely sometimes. At the same time, I couldn't imagine fitting in. Was that low self-esteem? Or was it the seeds of seeking a different path for which I had no models or mentors? From my current perspective, I would say it was the latter, though there was certainly some overlap--or cause and effect--with the former: for years, I did not understand that there were other paths, so in my own mind,
I fell short, did not measure up. Still, I plodded on. A late bloomer.
I immediately time-traveled back to my first--and last--invitation to a gathering of stay-at-home moms in my new upscale, suburban neighborhood. It was a tea that turned out to be a fundraiser for the hostess's sorority. I arrived at the appointed time--a bit before the full group assembled with little ones in tow.
It was probably just polite getting-to-know-you talk. Having recently moved from another suburb, I had not yet met my neighbors. Yet, I quickly felt the questions as more like an interrogation. I responded, telling about my part-time job in a medical laboratory. I talked about my three-year-old son and the nursery school he attended a couple days a week. I talked about my avocation, music, and my involvement in local musical comedy productions. I may have even mentioned my participation in the National Organization for Women (NOW) in that time when we were lobbying for the Equal Rights Amendment. I don't remember now. But it did emerge that my husband and I were renters, living in the upstairs of a Victorian two-flat, possibly the only non single family occupancy homes within blocks.
I soon realized that I had become the center of attention--some kind of exotic bird. No. That's way too positive. I was more like a cockroach that had crept out of the walls in that designer kitchen! The conversation quickly turned to more interesting topics--husbands, most of whom were junior executives or lawyers working toward partner, all with briefcases and in navy blue suits, commuting to firms in the city on the train (not on the subway). My husband rode his bicycle to the nearby hospital where he dabbled in body fluids in his white lab coat dotted with holes from splashed acids and other caustic chemicals. On nursery school days, our son was often perched on the bicycle carrier on the back fender.As I mentioned, this was also my last invitation. I simply didn't fit. And that was a two-way street. The highlight of my life was not a getting a babysitter so I could enjoy a monthly lunch with hubby in the city. Or remodeling plans that I could not imagine being able to afford.
I try to think back to how this made me feel, but it was so very long ago. I was not devastated, as far as I recall. This was not unique for me. Not the first time I was on the fringe of the inner circle. So, I probably shrugged it off. Yes, I was lonely sometimes. At the same time, I couldn't imagine fitting in. Was that low self-esteem? Or was it the seeds of seeking a different path for which I had no models or mentors? From my current perspective, I would say it was the latter, though there was certainly some overlap--or cause and effect--with the former: for years, I did not understand that there were other paths, so in my own mind,
I fell short, did not measure up. Still, I plodded on. A late bloomer.
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