Thursday, March 27, 2014

Kindness comes with Practice

Masquerade was Mennonite's (student lingo for Lancaster Mennonite High School, teachers and administrators preferred LMH) attempt to give us homecoming. They couldn't officially sponsor short dresses, dancing, and inter-sex mingling so instead we got costume party, barn, and bobbing for apples. Mr. Evans awarded prizes to each costume, since declaring one winner was not in true Mennonite fashion. My group got "most expensive" which feels like a fake award, who wants to win "most expensive" what a disappointing adverb.
We had all adorned prom dresses from out mothers closets and neighbors dress up bins. Jackie was the only one of our in-group of strong females with a boyfriend he wore a tux and we were the Bachelor. It was a show I neither supported nor had actually seen but it was a costume that eight girls and one guy could participate in together and in high school every ones greatest concern was being included so we were all willing to settle in order to avoid heartache.
These eight girls, I don't think junior year we were ready to be women no matter what our biological clock was telling us, were extensions of my self. We had the self confident communication and responses of one body. If I told Beks something I knew I could pick up the conversation with Maria. The information we passed around was not gossip but a courtesy. While this dynamic was accepted by all eight of us it didn't create an open invitation to others. Meghan had transferred to our school that year, she had been subject to hearsay of our adventures through Jackie who went to her church and was excited to make new friends. We all liked Meghan but it wasn't as simple as liking her because we were all in a place were our own thought processes and over thinking was the end all.
Assumption was that everyone would come to my house after Masquerade because my house was home base. As we filtered out after the event was over, I saw Meghan trotting self-consciously behind my gang of gigglers. I asked her to join us over at my house. I don't think I was being kind because I asked without thinking, it was a reflex not a conscious act of empathy. Meghan came and joined happily but warily as my friends laughed at jokes we all knew were supposed to be funny and interacted comfortably with my parents and brother. She didn't speak much but ate the grilled cheeses we made at midnight and didn't complain about sitting on the cold tile of the kitchen when the saggy couches and trow pillows were just a room over. She pulled me aside at 12:30 and told me her mom was on the way to pick her up. She had forgotten she had a swim meet the next morning and decided she should get as much sleep as possible. Meghan slipped out without anyone really taking notice.
I don't think I was wrong to invite her but, perhaps, I was ignorant to. Supporting the out-group in reality isn't as easy as making a statement at a basketball game or in a study.

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