Saturday, 16 January 2010

The Usualness of Unusualness


A long time ago (I was about 16 at the time, so practically aeons ago, in fact) I was the only one amongst my regular group of friends with both parents married to each other.

My ma said "I expect you're glad that you're the only one with a normal family".

Being something of a pedant, even then, I pointed out that it might be considered to be more "normal" to be a child of divorced parents, since the numbers kinda stacked up that way.

My ma took comfort from the idea of "normal"...I didn't.

It's been dawning on me that my circle of friends, as it has widened, has become less "normal" (by my ma's definition, not mine) and as my range of companions has become more diverse, I have felt more at ease with myself.

As I've met more people I've stopped worrying whether or not they'll think I'm a bit odd for being bookish, geeky, lacking the housework gene and refusing to wear grown up shoes. Don't get me wrong, some people I meet undoubtedly think I am odd...it just doesn't really bother me any more.

At the zoo the other day, one of the most well balanced, sanest, funniest people I've met tells me how they'd had a troubled teenage. "How come?" I ask... "Small village. Gay" V replies, in a matter of fact way.

I have to admit I'd almost forgotten that being gay was anything other than reasonably usual - yeah, I'm straight, but so many of my friends aren't that I barely notice it any more. It brings me up short.

Then I realise that's exactly what I like about the people I spend time with. Diversity.

In interests, in skills, in living circumstances, in sexuality, gender and gender identity, in age and size, in background in occupation...

How could I fail to be comfortable with this lovely bunch of folk who only ask me to turn up and be me?

How lucky am I?


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