brown

The Native kids were not much better. They would’ve gladly spent time at our house (over the years a handful did), but secretly they snickered behind our backs because, according to them, we thought we were “too good” for them. That didn’t stop our neighbors from running to our house in times of crises. I’m not exactly sure what we did (or didn’t do) that gave off the impression that we thought we were better than them. Maybe the fact that we didn’t smoke, drink, do drugs, beat each other up, play bingo, or travel the pow wow circuit. Or maybe it was because my dad was a doctor and my mom had her Master’s degree and neither would settle for children who did not make academics a priority. Probably it was because of our religious beliefs.

Whatever the reasons, I grew up in the little space between oil and water. Not quite part of one, but never fitting in with the other. Two opposing elements content to perpetuate deep seeded hatred and misunderstandings. It was a lonely life. I used to pester my parents to move to town so we could feel a part of a community. Now I’m glad that we didn’t. Always being on the fringes has made me keenly aware of the loneliness of others.