A Stranger in a Strange Land

I’m sure that all of us feel like a stranger sometimes. But I’m here to say that I belong. I have always accepted the responsibilities of being a member of the human tribe and so I am worthy of its privileges too.

I have never felt like I really belong anywhere as much as I feel like I belong in Paris. But this fact is not because of any particularly welcoming nature of Parisians; in fact I think I feel comfortable and welcome here – quite on the contrary – because they don’t feel the need to approve of me (No welcome wagon ever showed up at my door. No neighbors every said – “Oh are you new here?”). In fact, Parisians are famously stand-offish. Let’s call it nonchalant shall we? The best I ever get is a friendly stranger saying “is this your first trip to France?” or “where do you come from?” to which I always answer “the 15th arrondisement”

Years ago a third cousin of mine, a French man, told me that this anonymity is exactly the strength of Paris. His kids proceeded to block me on Facebook after he died, but his younger brother is still friendly when I find myself in his hometown in Brittany. Pierre was right of course. Shortly after I moved into my cozy apartment in a posh neighborhood in Paris I invited all the neighbors over for an ‘open house’. Those who came were enthusiastic, if few. I am still friendly with the concierge but my next door neighbors (‘neighbors on my landing’ as the French say) have moved and my downstairs neighbor went and died. Still I have two neighbors in my building with whom I shared meals during covid’s confinement. That is an amazing blessing to me. As I say to any French people who will listen, despite my accent: ‘in America you better get along with your neighbors because they are who you call upon in a crises, you sure don’t call the Police” Interesting to me how safe the French feel depending upon their government.

No, what I really like about Paris is the simple fact that everybody expects everybody else to be a stranger, but still a citizen, and thus worthy of politeness and disinterest. Over interest is seen as a come-on of course, so I have to be careful. Once I was walking in the Paris suburbs when the skies opened in a huge downpour. I opened my umbrella as I passed a man going in the other direction and opening his own umbrella. I smiled at him in my mid-western shrug toward solidarity in an uncomfortable situation. He grunted at me but then turned around a few paces later and came back to ask if I wanted to go home with him. That one taught me a lesson about innocent smiles. He was perfectly polite but not friendly enough to give me a smile.

In Kenya, I am allowed to belong whole heartedly as long as I’m footing the bill. I don’t trust anybody to actually have my back if I’m not paying him. As I run a charity school for some of the poorest kids in the world, if I try to enlist help from a Kenyan, they always ask to be paid. Oh wait, the Hari Krishna’s of Kenya have chipped in out of solidarity, so I should take that back. But the Kenyan Police would kill me in a heartbeat if they thought they could get five bucks for the effort. Right Chief Constable Owino of Malindi? The rule of law is another one of the blessings that us richer earthlings can enjoy.

I felt like I belonged enough in Dhaka thirty years ago, but I was a very good American wife and mother, working for an NGO for very little money. Even though I made no pretense at being Muslim they were very nice to me, to us all. I was told in Bangladesh that there are three genders – Male, Female and Foreign Woman – and honestly I liked my place in Dhaka life.

Returning to America was hard. Its true what they say – you can’t go home again. I made a good fake though and people were generally nice to me but I was enough of an iconoclast that I generally only made friends with immigrants to the USA. Locals often didn’t ‘get me’ very well, even if they tried. Luckily there were plenty of immigrants in the USA and I generally did alright that way.

Also I have always had a powerful secret weapon in my big messy family. My five siblings and their families fully understand that they are committed to my belonging with them forever. This is another priceless blessing in my life, especially since my first husband didn’t buy into the whole commitment thing.

But you don’t have to be as nomadic as I have been to worry about belonging. I know this fact from my dear friends all over the globe who mostly suffer from this worry. Am I too poor, rich/fat/skinny/stupid or smart to fit in? I labored under the compulsion to keep myself useful so that people would like me for my first sixty years of life in order make sure I belonged. But I’m too tired now. So I’ll help only when you want me too and only if I can. Here a shout out goes out to Brad Yates on YouTube and the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Paris for helping me process my alien nature.

Thus, even though I have quit racing, I expect to continue belonging as a fully paid up member of the human race. And truly Viva la France where I have as much right as anybody to live in Paris. I am truly honored to be a Parisienne.