When you were a child, did you ever feel left out?
Maybe it was a birthday party everyone else got invited to but you. The sleepover you heard about on Monday morning. The playground game where you stood waiting, hoping not to be picked last.
A familiar feeling
I knew that feeling well.
Before I graduated from high school, we moved 22 times. I was almost always the new kid. On Mondays, I listened as classmates laughed about parties and sleepovers I hadn’t known about. At lunch, I often sat alone hoping for someone to include me.
Sports didn’t help. I never stayed anywhere long enough to join a team, and I wasn’t especially athletic. In P.E., I braced myself to hear my name called last. When I finally tried out for volleyball my junior year, I played on the JV team. I was grateful to play and be part of the team, but I felt a step behind the varsity girls who seemed to belong so naturally to one another.
I share this as a pity party. I share it because I’ve been thinking about what it feels like to live on the fringes, to hover at the edge of conversations, and to exist in the margins.
It’s unsettling not to understand the inside jokes. It’s exhausting to wonder how to fit in. Sometimes it’s lonely. Sometimes it’s scary.
Rays of golden sunlight
And yet, the moments of inclusion shine in my memory like rays of golden sunlight. A seat saved. A name remembered. An invitation extended. Those small gestures carried enormous weight.
As an adult, I recognize my privilege. I am an educated white woman who has lived in the same community for almost 30 years. Most days, I belong easily. But every now and then, I am reminded how good it feels to be around like-minded people. It warms my heart to be welcomed, to be seen, to know someone thought to save me a seat at the table.
We often say we don’t like what’s unfamiliar. But maybe it’s not dislike. Maybe it’s discomfort. Maybe it’s fear of what we don’t understand.
And when someone new enters a space, when a minority voice is included in the party, it can unsettle the majority. It can feel like the balance has shifted.
In a perfect world, everyone would belong all the time. In this imperfect one, perhaps we can aim for something smaller but powerful: understanding when we feel left out, celebration when someone else is chosen, and compassion for those who live in the margins.
Because someone always does.