Sunday, December 5, 2010

In which I get sappy

My kid keeps picking out library books that make me cry. This week it was The Ugly Duckling. I’d never read the original Andersen version before. Of course I’d heard of the story since I was a kid myself and the way I always understood it was: Once upon a time there was this bird, and when he was little, he was ugly but once he grew out of his ugliness, then he was beautiful. And the moral of the story is: Swans are ugly when they're babies. The end.
No. That’s not actually what story’s about at all.
The bird was never ugly! That’s just how all the birds around him treated him because he wasn’t like them and they didn’t know what he was. They were simple minded poultry birds with no concept of the grace and sophistication of a swan.
I was so born in the wrong place. I grew up in this horrible, God-forsaken, smudge-on-the-map of a town on the Arizona Strip. I think I can best sum up what it was like living there by relating one experience. I was 16 years old and had taken my younger siblings to the pool. My little sister was playing in the baby pool and I was sitting on the bench watching her and reading To Kill a Mockingbird, when a boy I knew from school came up to me, gave me a dirty look and said, “Why are you reading a book? It’s summer.” It’s a place where 40-year-old men still wear their letterman’s jackets and all civic life revolves around the high school athletic teams. 
I hated it there, to put it mildly. I had no friends and there were no opportunities for the things I liked and was good at, like music or academics. I was the kid everyone picked on in elementary school. By the time I got to high school, no one was outright mean to me anymore, but I still didn’t really have friends.
It was a predominantly Mormon town and I didn’t fit in at church either, probably because I was a closeted liberal and feminist. I hated Young Women’s, all the pointless goal-setting programs, being forced to make crappy, tacky, knick-knacky “crafts” at the activities, being told we mustn’t date till we were 16, but it’s never too early to start preparing for motherhood. I was the unruly granola girl who wore hiking boots with her dress to church and couldn’t understand why we had to hate gays. (Before I get angry comments, yes, I realize that a requirement to hate gays is not an official Mormon doctrine and many individual Mormons are open-minded and accepting of gays, but this was not the mentality of the specific Mormons I grew up around.)
We moved shortly before my senior year of high school. I’ve driven through a few times since then, but really have no desire to have anything to do with the place. 
That degree of unbelonging during one’s formative years shapes a person. I internalized the belief, “People don’t like me,” and so even when I moved away from there, because I expected people not to like me, it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. My former husband was my first real friend. Then excommunication severely damaged my sense of self. “Mormon” had been such a strong part of my identity, and now it had been taken away. I was in the awkward position of still believing in it but not being allowed to be a part of it. We lived in the East Valley of the Phoenix area during the first four years of our marriage, a significant Mormon population there. I was ashamed of being excommunicated and terrified of anyone finding out. I didn’t want it to come up that we’d moved from Utah, or that I had ten siblings, because the inevitable next question was, “Are you Mormon?” and I didn’t know how to answer. I avoided talking to people and didn’t go out.
It was about two and a half years after I was exed that I was re-baptized and about a year after that that I decided that I didn’t really want to be Mormon after all. Then I was able to start rebuilding an identity and in recent years, I’ve finally been able to make a few friends, but it’s still a struggle. I’m still not completely comfortable with myself and still feel awkward and self-conscious interacting with other people.
There were a couple of parts of The Ugly Duckling that made me cry. One was when the duckling first sees other swans as they’re flying south in the fall, after he’s been mistreated and misunderstood by everyone he’s ever met. He watches them go and feels very strange and sad. “He didn’t know what birds they were, he didn’t know where they were flying, but he loved them as he had never loved anyone before.” I’ve felt that same sad recognition when I come across people whom I admire, and who are similar to what I think I would have been had I grown up in different circumstances. Educated, capable, confident. Happy. I don’t yet quite dare to believe that that’s also what I am.
The other part was when the swans return in the summer and the duckling sees them and doesn’t feel worthy to approach them but goes to them anyway because he decides he’d rather be killed by them than suffer any more at the hands (beaks?) of the birds he’s been around. He bends his head and waits for them to peck his neck, and that’s when he sees his reflection in the water and discovers that he is a swan himself. “Being born in a poultry yard doesn’t matter if you hatch out of a swan’s egg!”
I’m still working on not letting my past determine my future, on not being afraid to be myself, on finding places to belong. I think I’m getting closer. Maybe someday in hopefully the not-too-distant future, I’ll really believe that I’m a swan.
I loved the story. It made my heart happy. I think I’m going to buy myself the book for Christmas.




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26 comments:

  1. I *so* love reading your blogs. Wish I was on Facebook more because that's usually my reminder to go check 'em out. This another great post, thank you for sharing. And I've never read the original version of The Ugly Duckling before either... interesting differences indeed.

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  2. Wow. You endured so much heartache and lonliness as a young woman, and I wish you could have grown up in a community that accepted you.

    Well, duckling, you've grown up to be an accomplished, articulate, and insightful swan. That's why we like your blog!

    (By the way, are you familiar with a children's book called THE SISSY DUCKLING? I think you'd enjoy it.)

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  3. Wow. That's pretty much exactly how I felt growing up in Provo.

    I wonder how many like us grew up in communities where we clearly did not fit in...

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  4. Leah, I wasn't brought up Mormon, but I think I understand your heartache from my own experience. I can only encourage you in your growth...

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  5. Leah, you have an amazing story. Thanks again for sharing.

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  6. Oh man, the reading in the summer comment, story of my life. My big sister once took a book out of my hands at Thanksgiving during the football game and said, "act fucking normal!" She was joking, I laughed. I wasn't hurt by it, and I'm still not hurt by it. But the idea that reading for fun isn't normal ... or maybe she just meant it was rude to read when we had company. I don't know. Still, it sticks out in my memory: don't read in front of family; they judge you. They still do.

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  7. This almost made ME cry. It's simultaneously relieving and depressing to hear about someone else who has struggled with their religion, family and culture in this way.

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  8. I know the feeling of being born in the wrong place. Your anecdote about the boy sneering at you for reading for fun made my heart clench with recognition. When I was in high school, there were some kids who thought I was british because I spoke in correct english. They were actually confused when they realized I was from Miami like them, and even accused me of trying to "show off" with the way I spoke. It's a horrible experience to feel rejected by the people around you because of such seemingly small differences. Looking back, I guess all the little differences do add up to me being vastly against the popular current.

    I am sorry you had to go through that as well, but you have grown into a very intelligent, capable person. I love reading your blog!

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  9. This is beautiful. I always understood it as he was actually ugly, until he grew into a swan of course. I think it came out of the perfectionism of my family, you know, you are ugly and wrong until you "get your act together" and perform the way you are supposed to. But really, he was beautiful all along.

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  10. There was a time I was browsing Myspace (before facebook got it's claws in me) and I ran across the profile of someone I knew from elementary school but still hadn't bothered to move away from Small Town, Arizona. In the space for what books you're interested in read: "Books are for queers." I just thought that summed up the entire culture there.

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  11. I don't know you, but from reading your blogs, I would've definately been a friend to you back then. You seem like a beautiful person.

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  12. Your story echoes mine in so many ways! I, too, grew up in a small mining town in Arizona. My family stuck out like a sore thumb even among the Mormons of the area. I hated it and haven't been back in 30 years. Your post made me cry, it hit so close to home. I'm glad I found your blog.

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  13. Thanks for providing yet another reminder that, even within our own country, there are cultural environments more alien to me than Mars.

    I sense that the environment you left behind still has a bit of a grip on you because, as you say, it was part of your identity for a long time. Don't let yourself be dragged back down by it. You can do much better -- you are doing much better, despite the problems of the moment.

    Maybe someday in hopefully the not-too-distant future, I’ll really believe that I’m a swan.

    Well, it's already obvious to the rest of us -- could it be that what you need is to get out of the poultry yard? Live in or near a big city which is culturally pluralist and not dominated by the ducks?

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  14. Hello.
    I relate. I always felt like an outsider in my small town and secretly wondered if I was just weird or if other people were better at faking. On the plus side, I have felt quite at home in foreign countries where I'm allowed to be different.
    Last month, after my Women's Study class, I was visiting with some fellow students. (A straight male, a trans woman, a lesbian and a bisexual, if that means anything.) We were joking around and I almost started crying as I thought, "I've found my people." A little cygnet moment of my own.

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  15. Thanks, Ahab! I don't know The Sissy Duckling. I'll have to check it out.

    Thanks, TGD!

    Eric, I wonder just how common the experience is of stuck in a place where you clearly don't belong.

    Thanks, Babs!

    Thanks, Donna!

    Carla, my family was actually pretty good about encouraging bookishness. I remember lots of times though when my parents would rent a movie and I'd just stay in my room and read. No one gave me any grief about it though. It's sad that wanting to be well-read is looked down on by so many.

    Thanks, Kat! I definitely relate to feeling hurt at not belonging, but I see now that that was definitely not a place where I would have wanted to belong!

    Young Mom, I relate to feeling that I would be loved and accepted when I had finally "earned" it, not recognizing that I deserved it all along.

    John, I think "Books are for queers" is a huge complement! :-)

    Fanny, thanks so much!

    J, thanks, and glad to have you!

    Infidel, thanks! Have been pondering seriously your suggestion that I may not have quite left the poultry yard. Expect a post!

    prairienymph, I remember taking a women's studies class six years ago, right in the middle of trying to go back to church and make Mormonism work for me. Things I learned in class reflected so much of what I thought already myself but felt like I had to suppress because it was against the teachings of the Church. That class was a huge influence in helping me see that I clearly did not belong in the LDS Church, and that there were lots of people who thought like me out in the world.

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  16. It's amazing how reading a children's book can have different effects when read at age 5, then 15, then 25, and so on.

    The Ugly Duckling is a moving tale, but so is this post. I think that those who have discovered their "swan-ness" in varying shades of adversity have so much to offer the other swans still in the poultry yard.

    Who knows, maybe this blog has helped another swan out there muster up the courage to find a place to belong as well.

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  17. This was a really great post! I have got to get my hands on the original version of this! I'm much more a fan of the duckling already having been beautiful and no one noticed.

    Thanks for sharing your story!

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  18. This was a really great post! I have got to get my hands on the original version of this! I'm much more a fan of the duckling already having been beautiful and no one noticed.

    Thanks for sharing your story!

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  19. It's amazing how reading a children's book can have different effects when read at age 5, then 15, then 25, and so on.

    The Ugly Duckling is a moving tale, but so is this post. I think that those who have discovered their "swan-ness" in varying shades of adversity have so much to offer the other swans still in the poultry yard.

    Who knows, maybe this blog has helped another swan out there muster up the courage to find a place to belong as well.

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  20. Thanks, Ahab! I don't know The Sissy Duckling. I'll have to check it out.

    Thanks, TGD!

    Eric, I wonder just how common the experience is of stuck in a place where you clearly don't belong.

    Thanks, Babs!

    Thanks, Donna!

    Carla, my family was actually pretty good about encouraging bookishness. I remember lots of times though when my parents would rent a movie and I'd just stay in my room and read. No one gave me any grief about it though. It's sad that wanting to be well-read is looked down on by so many.

    Thanks, Kat! I definitely relate to feeling hurt at not belonging, but I see now that that was definitely not a place where I would have wanted to belong!

    Young Mom, I relate to feeling that I would be loved and accepted when I had finally "earned" it, not recognizing that I deserved it all along.

    John, I think "Books are for queers" is a huge complement! :-)

    Fanny, thanks so much!

    J, thanks, and glad to have you!

    Infidel, thanks! Have been pondering seriously your suggestion that I may not have quite left the poultry yard. Expect a post!

    prairienymph, I remember taking a women's studies class six years ago, right in the middle of trying to go back to church and make Mormonism work for me. Things I learned in class reflected so much of what I thought already myself but felt like I had to suppress because it was against the teachings of the Church. That class was a huge influence in helping me see that I clearly did not belong in the LDS Church, and that there were lots of people who thought like me out in the world.

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  21. Your story echoes mine in so many ways! I, too, grew up in a small mining town in Arizona. My family stuck out like a sore thumb even among the Mormons of the area. I hated it and haven't been back in 30 years. Your post made me cry, it hit so close to home. I'm glad I found your blog.

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  22. This almost made ME cry. It's simultaneously relieving and depressing to hear about someone else who has struggled with their religion, family and culture in this way.

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  23. Wow. That's pretty much exactly how I felt growing up in Provo.

    I wonder how many like us grew up in communities where we clearly did not fit in...

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  24. I *so* love reading your blogs. Wish I was on Facebook more because that's usually my reminder to go check 'em out. This another great post, thank you for sharing. And I've never read the original version of The Ugly Duckling before either... interesting differences indeed.

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Religion, skepticism, and carving out a spiritual life post-Mormonism