It happens all the time. I’m sitting at a table with several people my age and amidst a football game or over cheap shots of vodka, two people find out they’re from the same town, have the same favorite team, or happen to both know someone else. Whatever the commonality, what often follows is some mention of high school. Everyone begins talking about their experiences at pep rallies and senior prom and then they notice I’ve been silent.
“What about you?” they ask.
Because surely I’ve been to high school, right? Wrong.
Then comes the horrible pause. I consider what to say, and decide lying is too complicated. “I wouldn’t know,” I would reply. “I never went.”
And then the same scenario plays out once again. They ask me if I was homeschooled and I say I wasn’t. More confusion. Disbelief.
Let me explain: I grew up in the system. Foster care. Group homes. I was never adopted and my parents weren’t dead, but their rights had been terminated by the government. The system in the state where I grew up was corrupt and had an extreme lack of funding. The result? No school for me. They undeniably assumed I was just going to end up in a ditch as a pregnant teenager or a drug addict anyway.
Well, they were wrong.
Here’s the gist: I was reunited with my father, his wife and her four kids when I was 18. I was a ghost on paper. The only documentation I had for education was elementary school from first through third grade. My medical records were even worse.
The community college I attended, Santa Barbara City College (SBCC) didn’t mind that I was a ghost and gave me a chance. Now I attend UC Berkeley, and the only educational experience I really have is college.
Imagine attempting to explain this to every single person that asks where you went to high school. Imagine trying to explain yourself on paper and in interviews. There’s no box that says “You skipped nine grades and went to college.” But if I tried to click “High School Diploma” there’s a scroll button with a long list of high schools and I would have to pick one. I’ve dealt with these barriers the best way that I can. But aside from the technical complications, the one thing that’s pretty inescapable is how people react when I tell them the truth.
People get weirdly uncomfortable or awkward. It’s incredibly irritating how people act like you’re damaged or weird if you just haven’t had a similar upbringing to everyone else at the table.
If they don’t act uncomfortable, then they do something that I like even less. I call it The Inspiration Card. Comments like “Oh my god you are such a strong girl! You are such an inspiration! Survivor, tell your story, wow, amazing that you’ve made it this far.”
Maybe some people appreciate that kind of response, but after so many of them, I see it as a default and a way to acknowledge that my past is unorthodox without being weird about it.
But the more I’ve run into this awkward, double-edged sword of a situation, the more I’ve realized that this has to be what every person with an unorthodox background faces. Either you lie, which gets dicey the moment people ask for specifics, or you tell the truth and the reaction is either weird or more weird.
I thought to myself: Well maybe people with an orthodox background don’t understand what’s really happening in this social situation. They have the privilege of talking about their past or parts of it with no raised eyebrows, just noddings of heads, laughter, and smiles.
I’ve started thinking of this as Relatability Privilege. In no way is this a real term but it’s how I have cultivated understanding of this idea.
Relatability is a key part of bonding and forming friendships. Finding things in common is a large part of social interaction. What happens when you don’t have that? For example, a person like me sitting at that table, hoping to be included when everyone is talking about high school, except how can I be when I can’t relate?
Sometimes I just want to be treated normally, despite having a past that can set me apart, but lying or pretending to be someone I’m not has never been an option for me. I’m nearly certain this is the case for others with unorthodox backgrounds too.
This all leads me to my main point: As a society we have to be exposed to more different backgrounds and situations. We need to learn how not to have drastically different attitudes towards people when their answers don’t align with expectations. Moreover, just because someone’s background intrigues you, it doesn’t mean they owe you their life story. If they want to share it, great. But if they seem uncomfortable with your reaction, maybe invite them to share something they’d be more comfortable sharing such as their favorite movies or TV shows.
Bottom line: If there’s no such thing as normal, then there is no such thing as abnormal. And it’s well past time for our actions to reflect this.