We all have our own quirks and Rudolph moments. The underdog, who makes it good. The hero, who overcomes all odds and transforms a weakness into herculean strength. The moments we live for, where a cathartic moment in time feeds our soul and reminds us of why we are alive and why who we are is exactly who we want to be.
I’ve seen a lot of hidden messages sprinkled throughout my life in unlikely ways. Even as a kid, movies with underlying meanings and lessons have always had a deep impression on me. Sometimes resonating so much so that the echoes have carried their way well into my adult life. The Hollywood writers have certainly earned their keep in my estimation and in consideration for how many times a day my explanation of a situation revolves around a fictitious character’s quote from a movie (shameless plug for #wgastrong).
As a kid, Rudolph was a favorite of mine and it was back when shows aired only once a year (one time!), with lots of commercials and no playback. I was always prepared, sitting cross legged on the floor, immediately transported into Rudolph’s make-believe story and rudimentary animation that was sheer magic as the snowman floated around the North Pole and narrated the story. I had a lot of heart for Rudolph and Hermey (the elf, who wanted to be a dentist). I was a weirdo too (self-proclaimed and without apology or self-pity). Anyone who has ever felt like an outsider can relate to the plight of Rudolph and Hermey and all of those misfit toys stranded on an island, waiting to be found and loved.
Truth be told, I think we all feel like an outsider at one point or another. And I think it centers around two key factors. First, it begins with a point of difference between an individual and perceived peers. Second, and perhaps most importantly, said peers who share points of parity with each other, exhibit behaviors of exclusion towards individuals who are different.
As a kid, we’re talking about a much smaller stage or platform. It’s a schoolyard or classroom. A lonely moment at an empty lunchroom table or a solo moment in a gym waiting to be picked for a team sport. And that’s the easy stuff. Things we all see as normal and a rite of passage (if you survive your childhood, which by the way, not everyone does).
What about the tougher stuff? Socioeconomic inequities? Differences in ability and disabilities? Race, color, sexual orientation? Damn, and I thought this was going to be a lighthearted blog. I think it’s important to note here that my blogs typically focus on non-political, every-day living and purpose. I can’t tell you why today is different, but the Island of Misfit Toys has been floating in my head for a while as something I wanted to write about. And when I sit down to write, I never know where it’s headed until I finish. So here goes…
I think maybe we’re all from the island of misfit toys waiting for Santa to come and rescue us. To find the perfect mate or family or friend that pairs perfectly with our imperfections.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about the nature of my own traits and why I qualify as a misfit (and believe it or not, this is street creds I embrace and not something I avoid). I could bore you with armchair psychology and the evolution of being “woke,” but I still nap at times and resist change. And I make a point of never putting to paper (or print) an idea or belief that could mock me later when I am more “woke.” Reminds me of a Maya Angelou quote, “When you know better, do better.” Shit, I go from knowing to not knowing enough…but I’m trying!
Trying for me means I have the ability to see a truth in fictional characters without living in a fantasy world. It’s easier to talk about and feels lighter than the heavy lift required for making changes, accepting things, and, as Maya said, “doing better.”
I am troubled by questions like who the creator is that put out all the broken pieces. And have to wonder why, if we are perfectly created in a single image, there is so much culture war to the contrary?
Who has the right to assign a label to someone else and declare “misfit”? At Christmastime, when the store shelves are packed with the same toys, row after row…why then is it that one toy that is so unique and in scarce supply, the most coveted and valuable? What if we took the same reverence for one another, appreciating and cherishing our own differences? And the most unique and different were the ones we held with the most reverence and esteem?
I spent years mimicking others and taking my rough cut and working in earnest to become more polished and socially digestable at every level of society and business.
After decades of hard work, it feels better to begin deconstructing the persona I made myself out to be. It’s taken some time to peel back the layers and get back to that little weirdo I used to be. Like taking a piece of sandpaper and roughing a well polished stone, revealing imperfections and flaws. Want to know why? Because the best of who we all are stems from the darkest waters and f’ed up stuff. All the experiences and moments we’d like to forget are actually a big part of why we are who we are. And some of the best parts of our story.
I’ll self-disclose here. I was the jack in the box that couldn’t spring out. I was wound too tight at times, and the off-key melody that played as the crank turned in anticipation continued without a big reveal. I was stuck in the box. Afraid of what others might think of who I was/am/will be. It was a box of my own making. I still have some hesitation depending on where I am or who is around. But I love being a misfit almost as much as I love being around other people, who are exactly the same way for different reasons.
My crank is well oiled now and I rarely let invisible lines of constraint hold me back from speaking my mind or doing exactly what I want to do.
My people are rednecks, big thinkers, makers, and yeah, even a few day drinkers. People of faith and those of spirituality. And the awesomeness of it all is that we all have found a way to embrace who we are without apology. And we accept every bit of who we are. Even the parts we may not understand.
I’m not saying my misfit heroine nature is going to save the world (or Christmas like Rudolph), but I like to think there are encounters with strangers and friends where I live by my own simple mantra and make a little difference. I always says that if we don’t make life special for each other, who will? It’s super basic and so simple, I can’t believe more people haven’t thought of it. We have an impact on anyone we encounter. We don’t get to pick who that is, but we do get to choose what impression we leave them with. My super power comes in the form of garden baskets filled with vegetables and jelly and sometimes hand painted gourds that might fail a high school art project, but are still a fun and cheerful way to say hello.
So whatever your nature is that labels you as a misfit by some, always remember that you are f’ing loved and cherished by others!
Disclaimer: I refuse theological debates and avoid politics like the plague. The thoughts expressed here are completely my own and are not intended to advance any bigger agendas.