I have become acutely aware of our separation. I hover on the outside, looking into two worlds. Not belonging to the groovy, hip has-not’s, and not wanted or accepted with the ones who “have”, I now struggle to find my place in between those worlds. Where once was only the “idea” that we were different- a vaguely held concept that those kind of people believed they were above me-there was now hard fact. And learning this, and knowing this, and understanding this . . . shook me to my core.
I had always wanted to believe these feelings and ideas were in my head. Just a symptom of growing up poor-ish, or at least in less than ideal circumstances. A life lived with that deeply ingrained understanding of your place in the world. I never sat down to define myself. I never intentionally put myself into a category or tried to compartmentalize my life-it was just one of those things that was understood. You grow up “knowing” where you fit in. You go to work “knowing” the kinds of jobs you will have. And you love certain kinds of people “knowing” they are like you . . . and brave are the ones who push hard enough, and take the risk to redefine themselves, because they will always be resisting those who want to push them back into their place so they can be the king of their hill.
It is the way of all species.
Only we humans do it with forethought, and consciousness, and often sometimes cold cruelty, in the desire to make more room for ourselves, so we can open our feathers wider, drop our seeds into more fertile ground, and so our egos have more room to grow like over-fertilized chia-pets, and we often don’t care who we cast into the shade, to wither and die without the sun.
I do it too.