Not Fitting in. And Proud.

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It’s a jolt of reality that brings you down, when you realize that issues that bogged one in adolescence still seem to surface now and then. More now than then. 

All through high school we try to fit in, do as the popular girls and guys do, and be accepted inspite of out nerdy quirks. Nerdy awkwardness, yes, the uncool cousin of geeky cool. By we, ofcourse I mean people like me. The introverted-reclusive-front-bench-sitting-long-skirts-wielding-teachers-favorites-for-always-completing-the-work-on-time. The ones receiving a pat on the back for taking an extra class, much to our embarrassment, and being beckoned upon the dias to receive  the “Most Obedient Student of the Year” award, much to our chagrin. While all you lust for, is really to be like those other kids, the girls with their short skirts and long lashes, flirting with the tall guys, while managing to do well in school too. Ofcourse, this is not an option for most. Its not a conscious decision, it just happens. One day you walk into school, and there it is. The arrival of the nerd. 

I was a nerd I admit, because I possibly couldn’t see myself as the cute little girl on the bleachers. Perhaps I thought that was not my place. I wasn’t pretty enough, tall enough, savvy enough to deserve that, so I seemingly relegated myself to the lesser ranks of being shunned. Yet the daydreams would not end. Perhaps, the popular kids would invite me to their party today; perhaps, they would not make fun of me when I walked past them. Maybe, just maybe, they would not play a prank on me while on a dare, just this time; maybe they’d be a tad nicer. It is surprising that even though the collective meanness that was dumped upon me could give a cities garbage disposal squad a run for its money, I still wanted to be like these cool kids, and so yearned to be a part of their group. 

Ah, the desire to fit in! Durkheim did say that social fabric is what prevents a man from complete self-destruction (he meant suicide) but I think he is silent on the deleterious effects of the high school social capital.  

High schools are famous for mass-producing what you more colloquially know as bimbos and jocks. I am not particularly fond of these disparaging yet seemingly accurate terms, so I would perhaps use alternate nomenclature. Bimbos would be henceforth referred to as Species 1- seemingly-dim-witted-pretty girls. I say seemingly since they often put on the damsel in distress show to garner attention from the opposite sex, which as I have witnessed on many accounts works like a charm. This leads me to the description of Species 2 or Jocks – dim-witted-hedonic-sporty-men and yes very susceptible to the overtures of the seemingly-dim-witted-pretty-girls.  Be it a school in Columbus, Ohio or one in New Delhi, India, these two species are everywhere, making life for us nerds hell in high school.

One would think, that a nerd, having spent so much time with books and literature would develop the discernment of not wanting to be associated with either of the species. But as the all-engulfing passion of fitting in takes flight, all rationality is dumped at the doors of the toilet.

Over a period of time, a nerd may realize his or her true nature i.e. of being a nerd. Embracing this, indeed, engenders a feeling of wholeness unparalleled. Evaporating instantly the need to be accepted by the others, and belong to that group of Species 1 and 2. And no, I am not still talking about high school. These species often transcend the educational threshold of schools and often permeate into adult society. 

A sense of belonging is healthy and perhaps imperative to the well-being of a human being. Yet, this belonging must not be artificially created. It must not be an unreal place, or an unreal need. Only when you are true to your nature, rejoicing in standing out from the crowd you once so-desired, respecting that your individuality can accomplish more than the collective action of a bunch of people you don’t fit in with, that’s when you belong - to yourself. That’s when you jump ecstatically from the realization, that you don’t fit in, but you stand out.