Ellen Trinklein
Opinions Editor
Hello world, I’m different.
What an awkward thing to say. In middle school– the place where confident, careless youngsters are forced to assimilate into adulthood–this is the last thing I would’ve wanted to admit. Even now, and especially in a small town like New Canaan, different doesn’t always feel like it works.
Here’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you that it’s all okay, that being different is acceptable, but that would be a lie. There are plenty of times when being different backfires.
In sports, having a “different” way of playing the game would probably make you worse (imagine if someone decided that soccer should be about scoring goals for the other team). In English class, having a “different” concept of what makes a good essay will not get you an A, either; it will probably send you to the writing center.
What about discrimination? There are so many cases where being different, whether in race, religion, sexuality or even just your accent or the way you look, can cause you to be discriminated against and looked down on. Right now, when Muslims want to build a mosque in New York City, they are being rejected purely because too many Americans can’t see past the prejudice they feel against Muslims to let them practice their constitutionally granted freedom of religion.
Don’t worry, though, because now’s the part where I finally give you the pep talk about how it’ll all be okay.
This summer, I learned that different wasn’t always bad. Rather than that, different is necessary. It is because of our differences that we are each able to contribute to and better the world around us.
Here’s what’s different about me: I play harp. To those of you who didn’t know that, I see your faces right now: the eyebrow raise, the mouth contorting into the shape of approval, the unavoidable shock in the back of your eyes, and the overarching sense of complete and udder surprise. Yes, I’ve seen that reaction before. That reaction is exactly the reason I used to hide this weird hobby of mine from most people. That, and the fact that playing harp makes me a closet band geek.
This summer, however, I got the opportunity to play this top-secret instrument of mine at a cancer center in Stamford. Besides all the cliché, over-mentioned benefits of doing volunteer work, I couldn’t help but feel proud that I was (hopefully) improving the lives of people in ways that only a few other people my age could. What made me “different” all of a sudden became what made me “special.”
So, yes world, now you know what makes me different. But, to be honest, you probably all have some hidden tidbit about you that makes you different, too. Maybe you watch Naruto or read Harry Potter Fan Fiction, or maybe you still have your Facebook language set to “Pirate” because you just can’t stop laughing. I’m that weird girl who plays harp—I won’t judge.
Whatever the case, I think it’s high time that we stop trying to force ourselves into the images of normality that we conjured up sometime in 8th grade, and instead embrace what makes us weird. It’s not about a return to normalcy ; it’s about a departure from it.
