Being the Outsider
Most likely all of my readers are assuming I'm speaking about being gay in a straight world; what I am really talking about is being "able" in an "unable" world. This morning I sat next to a young woman named Nancy. I was half an hour late to class already and being the last stop for Lenawee Transportation, all other seats were taken. Thank god for Nancy though, she willingly moved her plastic Meijer bag off the surprisingly comfy seat for me to sit. Did I mention Nancy has what I would think is severe down syndrome?
The entire bus was filled to capacity with the people of Adrian's HOPE program. HOPE is a place where those who are mentally handicapped can go and socialize with people of their intelligence and social capabilities. To be honest that's the best way I could word that sentence as I am very I'll informed on the latest socially acceptable "lingo". So as I said, the bus is full of people all so different than me, and yet so much the same.
Ellen was the first person to speak to me, she asked if I was going to JCC, as the driver had already mentioned. After I answered her she proceeded to introduce herself. I always do my best to catch the passenger's names, as it's not always clear what they're saying. She asked a few
more harmless questions and then turned to continue gazing out the obscenely large windows found on public transport vehicles.
It was after this simple conversation that I began to notice a strange feeling. I was uncomfortable and the reasons for it only made me more on edge. I was an outsider! Here, on a van full of the mentally impaired of Adrian, I was wishing I could fit in!? They had jokes I did not understand, friends I'd never met, and had done things I hadn't. I envied their closeness and familiarity to a world I don't have.
One might compare these thoughts and feelings to the bus ride to a new high school. It was surprisingly treacherous. All I kept thinking about was how glad I would be to get off the bus so I could feel like I belonged to something again. Was this how they felt off the bus and away from the HOPE center? How terrible their lives must be in just that aspect.
So you might be wondering why I found this so vital to write about. I am one of those people who used to avoid the mentally handicapped at all costs. I was afraid of them and I felt better than them. Until I got older and understood the concepts of humanity. Some people never learn this, and that is sad. Everyone knows what it's like to be an outsider, imagine that all the time, and having only one place where that feeling went away. I understand and respect Ellen a lot more now, since she saw me as one of "them" and decided to talk to me as one of "hers". =]
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