Token Outsider
Ever since I was a geeky kid who didn’t fit in anywhere, I’ve found the positive flip side in my place as the token outsider in every social group. When I was with my punk or metal friends I was moshing in nice sweaters and loafers. When I was with the straight A students their parents would talk about having seen me out with my “weird friends” as we sipped juice in their living rooms. No matter how different I was from any given social sphere, there was always a slot for someone like me who could be a representative from the outside.
This last week up in Ottawa I had a wonderful time being part of my friend’s Sikh wedding. At one point someone asked me if it made me feel uncomfortable when everyone around me was speaking Punjabi. That’s when I realized not only how comfortable I was as the only foreigner, but how often I’d been there. When I dated a Chinese girl for four years I used to hang out at parties where English would flow in and out of conversation based on my proximity, although often with some considerable lag time. In Germany or spending time with lots of Germans in college the same thing happened. Once when bowling with my African American friends, they had cut a deal with the guy behind the counter to get free shoes. When I went up by myself the dialog went something like, “you’re with who?” “Those guys.” “Those guys over there?” “Yeah.” “The guys right there? Those guys?” The game became ever more silly and embarrassing as he continued to point but neither of us were going to say “the black kids”. He couldn’t believe that the long haired white kid in front of him was with the large group of rowdy black students. (I guess I should note that the guy behind the counter was black as well.)
I’ve rarely consciously sought out these situations. I was excited about soul, hip hop, and working in video and so I plugged myself into a black music video show. I met a girl on the tennis courts who was from Beijing. I think what makes these things evolve more often for me is that I don’t resist the discomfort that may come with meeting new and different people and, perhaps sensing this, people find it easier to invite me into their subcultures.
At a more subtle level, I think it’s my spongelike absorbing of minutia of movement and body language that makes people comfortable with me. When I can’t understand the spoken language, I’ve learned to read body language, context and intent as a means of understanding. I think I’ve also learned to enjoy an environment without completely understanding it, and become comfortable just being present and taking in the essence of a world.
Certainly all of this has lead to one of the most primal drives in my life: to help people of completely different backgrounds understand each other. For whatever reason I’ve learned to see that genetic core that we all share, those commonalities like the capacity and desire for love. It breaks me up when groups of people I care about can’t see that in each other and so I want to capture the essence of one through film or writing or music and share it with the other in a safe way that allows them see what I see. It’s my hope that as more of this work is being done the world over, there will be a steady migration towards understanding and a greater openness to difference in general.
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