Alejandrina
I thought she was a boy when I first met her. She walked into class with careless confidence, wearing a cub scout shirt, and a headband which kept her 2 long braids in place. She had that free spirit thing going, which has always simultaneously drawn me to a person, and also made me jealous.
Almost immediately, the teasing and taunting started. Kids were mean, and no one wanted to be her friend. I wasn't sure why, except different is bad, and Alejandrina was different. Unlike the predominantly Alaskan Native class, she was loud, gregarious, and breezy. She was comfortable in her own skin and as a newcomer, an outsider to a class who had been together since Kindergarten, maybe that was too much. Our class was not kind to her.
As adults in a politically correct society, we purpose to be good at inclusion and acceptance. In the church, we teach it and value it and tell ourselves we are good at it. When we invite someone to an event that we might not ordinarily invite, we think we've been inclusive. When we reach out to someone outside of our circle of friends and bring them into the conversation or the group, we feel good about ourselves, and go to bed without guilt. Maybe because we did more than others in our group, and so our comparison frees us to feel charitable.
But sometimes I wonder how the Alejandrinas of our workplaces and churches and small groups truly feel. Do they notice that we are nice to them at church, but never seek their company outside of it? Do they feel like a project of ours or do they feel loved unconditionally? Are they grateful for any kindness, or do they resent token love which holds a promise of something deeper, but never quite comes to fruition? Are they grateful for mentorship, but wonder why they aren't good enough just to be our friend?
All of us are "different" in some context. All of us have been that new person, or the one who sticks out, the one not quite like the others. That feeling of being the one at odds has a strong effect on the psyche. Stay too long the outsider, or the dissenter, or the newbie, and you start to wonder what's wrong with you, when in completely different contexts the people who make up the majority might be the "different" ones. The need to fit in is a strong force, which can crush a spirit if left unfulfilled.
From what my parents tell me, Alejandrina's parents wore the "different" label too. Perhaps their well-traveled lives had been far more diverse than those of ours in isolated SE Alaska. Perhaps their educational ideas were different than those of the conservative high school where they briefly taught. Maybe they dressed differently, like their daughter.
My friend Alejandrina's family did not last long in Sitka. Sadly, they did not last long in this world. Their experience of not being accepted made them easy targets for a group who would accept them, and would include them. They became a part of the infamous Jonestown cult led by Jim Jones. We understand they died in Georgetown amongst many others.
I've thought about Alejandrina many times over the years. I loved everything about her, because she was my complete opposite. Had we more time, I can just imagine the many adventures we might have had. If life had given me daughters, one of them would have borne her name.
RIP, friend. I accepted you. Our friendship was real. You mattered in this world and you inspire me still.
