The “other”

The conversation of the ‘other’ originates in theory and is something that I have examined and looked at in many different contexts. For the purpose of this blog post, however, I will define the ‘other’ as someone that is considered different and doesn’t belong.

Everyone has stories of growing pains and different problems that they went through when they were younger. The growing pains and things that I struggled with throughout my elementary and middle school years had more to do with the way I looked than anything else. I was always different. I had dark hair, dark eyes, darker skin, a lot of hair, and long hair that was not straight. I received many nicknames, some meant to be endearing and some that were meant to be and were indeed very hurtful. It was through these years that I became incredibly self-conscious about the way that I looked and how different I looked, even from my family. I even looked very different from my own twin sister who at the time, I considered to be blessed to have fair skin and long straight hair and look like the other girls. This was something that I struggled with for many years and something that was a big part of some very low points in my life. I tried to change my appearance in many ways, just to try and look like everyone else. I felt like the ‘other’.

Then, just after 9/11, I began to notice it even more. I saw the hatred that spilled over the eyes of many Americans around me and the prejudice that became so inherent within them and it terrified me. While I did not receive the brunt of the hatred, I ran into some problems when I would fly while wearing a scarf. I tried to play it off like it didn’t bother me, but it was humiliating. At one point, as I was in the process of boarding a plane, I was pulled out of line with all of my baggage to be strip searched in another room because someone on the plane had apparently expressed concern about my appearance. I would like to say, I do not even look that different. As I have been told very many times, I can pass for almost any ethnicity from Spanish to Italian to Middle Eastern.

It was at the end of my high school years that I began to read more about the Middle East, see more pictures of the women from there, and begin to feel better about myself. However, it was college that really solidified it for me. I go to a very international school that is Quaker in nature so it is very accepting of all different religions and cultures. It was here that I began to own the way that I look and really feel comfortable with it. I stopped trying to change my appearance into someone that wasn’t me and I began to wear the clothes that I wanted to wear, style my hair in a way that I wanted to, and do the things that I wanted to do. I stopped lying about my interests and the things that I wanted to study and I began to formulate the person that I am now.

Traveling now to Jordan I have begun to feel that slipping away. I thought it would be so easy for me to fit in here. Finally, for the first time in my life, I look the part. But, I’m beginning to realize that while I am now fitting in and actually feeling comfortable in my own skin, there is more to my identity than the way I look. I’m still the ‘other’ here because when I get the inevitable question of where my family is from, I lie. When I get the inevitable question of what religion I am, I lie. I’m still not being honest with everyone around me and thus, I’m not being honest with myself. I am Jewish. I look Israeli. That’s the truth. I still am the ‘other’ here. Coming to that realization was probably one of the hardest. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged somewhere, and yet, I don’t ‘belong’ here because my ‘identity’ and my heritage are hinged on a lie. I am Jewish and Israeli and that is not something that many people want to be associated with here. If I go to Israel, will I feel more at home? No, I don’t think so because then my personal views and opinions will automatically place me as the ‘other’.

I know that everyone asks themselves these questions and I am definitely not the only person even on my trip to ask such questions. What is the next step in overcoming such predicaments? Do you pretend like you are okay with it all of the time? So with all of that, let me be selfish when I say: Where do I belong? Is there ever going to be a place that I will not feel like the ‘other’?

To be continued…

 

Dem Americans Part II

An addendum to my previous post:

The way you write is constantly being critiqued throughout the course of your lifetime, however, the way that you hold your pen/pencil is something that is generally taken as a given. Not for me. Ever since I was a little kid, I have been told that I hold my pen the “wrong” way. Numerous teachers told me that when I went to college I would not be able to write quickly because of the way I hold my writing utensil, they were wrong. In fact, it got to the point, in the third grade, where my teacher would correct me every single time I wrote and would do something similar to whacking my knuckles when it was incorrect (damn you Mrs. B!). My mother even tried bribery by telling me that if I wrote in the correct way, she would buy me all the milkshakes I wanted for a period of three months! Yeah, none of it worked.

Anyway, at this point in my life, everyone has gotten used to the way I write, and honestly, even people I don’t know have not commented on it in years. Going off of this, I have literally not thought about the way I write in a very long time! Nope, not in Jordan. Literally, the first day at my home stay my host mother made a comment about it and asked me how the heck I was able to write that way. Then, yesterday, after the whole nut episode, I was writing in my little Arabic notebook (used for new words I hear), when my host uncle (yes, the jokester) turned to me and said, “What the heck are you doing??” and of course I replied with a response that I was writing some new words. He then pointed out to the rest of my huge host family the “weird” way that I was writing and much to their amusement began making jokes about the way that I write. Yes, yes, there is beginning to be a trend of the American and her weird ways amidst my host family now, much to my chagrin. And to those of you who may ask…no, I will not change the way that I write! Ever!