. . .I had to deal with the same ish at home, which was way more painful than feeling separate and foreign at school. I really couldn’t tell you about how long the family connection had been fizzling out. But I can say that the isolation I felt at school brought it into much sharper focus. I really began to notice it once I hit middle school, when my lot in life as socially invisible was pretty well cemented for . . .however the hell long because of . . .um . . .reasons. Yeah, let’s go with that.
Since I would always be stuck on the outskirts of the social landscape, I had no choice but to entertain myself with whatever I could find out there. And boy, did I find stuff. Cool stuff. Interesting stuff. . .
*MUSIC: Stevie Wonder, Marvin Gaye, Greenday, HIM, The Pillows, Daft Punk and lots of other J-Rock bands, other stuff I wasn’t “supposed” to be listening to
*BOOKS/AUTHORS: Anne Rice, Salman Rushdie, Anne McKaffery; Flowers for Algernon and Don Quixote were some of my favorites around this time
*VIDEO GAMES/ANIME: waaay before they were as popular as they are now; where you still won’t find many black fans, let alone black female fans.
Early on, I knew that it would be a given that none of my “peers” at school or in the neighborhood would really care about all this cool, interesting stuff that I kept finding. I knew that it would be blank, indifferent stares all around and a lesson learned about just how narrow the mainstream really is. (How could it be so narrow if that’s where lots of people are?) This was somehow easier to accept.
But getting those same stares on a consistent basis from immediate family members was one of the most discouraging, heartbreaking things that I had ever experienced in my young life. It took that lonely feeling I was plagued by at school and shot steroids directly into its ass.
I withdrew deeper and deeper into myself. I grew silent and increasingly less eager to discuss my admittedly unorthodox ideas, “Because no one listens or cares anyway,” I constantly reminded myself. Especially not . . .