I’ve found it interesting that every corner of the universe has a cool girl quota. There’s no space that’s so chill, so intrinsically meditative that there is not a clique of some kind that forms- the “in crowd” and the “others.”
Now, these groups certainly take on different forms and functions. Some are larger and some are itsy bitsy, some are more welcoming (the more the merrier, if you will) and others will die before admitting new members. There are some groups that formally recognize themselves as a group, which is to say that they give themselves a name or a really cayute tagline. They likely regularly share social media posts or find ways to make their togetherness known to those outside their group in other ways (matching hats, y’all). Some are quieter about their formation, but their grouping is evidenced by the way in which they engage.
This social stratification has presented as an issue for me in much of my endeavors. Or it did, when I was a younger person. First of all, I was shy and the sense that there was a social barrier to be broken made something that was already challenging infinitely more so. Beyond my social graces, it is awkward to move into a space that is occupied by a crew with loads of private jokes and stories.
Tittering laughter, shrieks of delightful, or mournful sighs that fill the incense-scented air of yoga studios and the clean calm of writing retreat rooms. Noises that whisper, no, scream: “YOU DON’T BELONG HERE- GO FIND YOUR OWN SPACE.”
Sometimes there was an outlier, someone on the inside who was comfortable moving outside the boundaries of the group to engage with a newbie, but that is a bold move favored by the wholly confident, and that has its own challenges.
What I’ve found is that groups will tell you that they are not that, at all. They will reassure you that everyone is welcome and it doesn’t matter who has known each other for what amount of time, and at the end of the day, it all sorts itself out. And it does, but the chips fall within the confines of that exact hierarchy favored by the veterans; those who are inherently comfortable.
Because I’ve often been on the outskirts of such groups, it’s easy to observe and identify the uniforms and language and preferences of these groups. The brands of clothing and the cadence of conversation and the tone of social media posts.
And have I tried from time to time to emulate the identifiable traits I’ve observed to become one with that crowd? I sure have. And here’s what I am here to tell you: it doesn’t matter. I can squeeze my juicy thighs into Lululemon and find tarnish-resistant gold necklaces to layer and identify the perfect fragrance for exercise that’s not too cloying but noticeable enough. And still, I would be an outsider. Or maybe, I’d definitely FEEL like an outsider. And those things, in the end, are the same.
As an almost forty-five-year-old woman, this leads me to explore what is so desirable about being a part of the in-crowd, besides the social capital aspect. More to the point, I wonder what is so challenging about being outside of it all. Why does it matter? With my own growth, credentials, and journey, why would I feel diminished in these scenarios?
To be clear, it’s not just the obvious circles- the big ones. There are smaller little cliques that form in a way that’s just an insidious and sometimes, more hurtful.
But then, I find myself at the same mental crossroads. The same question persists- why?
Well, I think we all desire to fit in on some level. Even those who are considered to be more on the outskirts of social norms will often find a person or two that fits the same paradigm. Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge those who are completely alone and the way in which they’ve often been stigmatized and even, linked to troubling or violent behavior that is often considered to be a result of this social ostracization.
Sus, my mother, told me the other day that as women begin to experience major hormonal changes in life (aka good ol’ menopause), they will often shift from a place of prioritizing everyone else over themselves to understanding the need for self-care. This is why, she advised, so many memes about not giving a shit what people think originate from women who are at this later stage in life.
I find myself wondering then, does this apply to the social circle scenario as well? When we reach a certain age and find ourselves facing one of these “in-or-out crowd” situations, do we react in the same way? And yes, I recognize that I am limiting this analysis to women. I fully acknowledge that men have their own journey with their own unique social pressures. That said, I’m not a man, and so, I’m not in the best position to do anything other than speculate. I am a woman, so that permits me to comfortably speak to my own journey and that which has been shared by friends.
What would it be like to enter a room and not give a shit what anyone thinks? What if it doesn’t matter that there are no cheeks to air kiss (or kiss in another manner) or cheerful outings to recall and recount out loud, in vivid detail? What if photo dumps with shared owners didn’t spark feelings of envy or sadness, but were another thing to just scroll on by?
I think that must be liberating.
I say that because I’m not quite there. I’m closer these days than I’ve ever been, which is to say that I care far less than I did as a younger woman. I don’t let any of this silliness influence my desire to participate in a thing, unless it truly impacts the enjoyment factor, which I’ve found to be possible, but rare.
I do still care though. There is still something that stings when I find myself as the person outside of things, and there’s no amount of sarcasm or joking, or even, veiled honesty, that gets me to a place of ease with it all.
What I have learned is to move through it more quickly. I don’t let it sit on me and I certainly don’t let it stop me from doing a thing. Sure, I have to steel myself sometimes, and that can be a bit draining, but you know what’s more tiring? Getting fully sucked into the self-esteem merry-go-round that is trying to bust into a group that’s just not interested in any kind of initiation process for unknowns.
You know what else? It’s kind of like when years ago I obsessed over this pricey dress I saw online. I mean, complete fixation. I saved. I ordered. I waited. It arrived and it was horrendous. Truly. A sparkly garbage bag, on me. And in that moment, I realized that the thought of a thing is sometimes better than the thing itself. Tricky, tricky. And that’s not to say that things and people can’t pleasantly surprise you, and that you can’t work to get to know people and further, that you won’t suddenly find yourself IN. That’s just to say that sometimes it’s best to just breathe, be yourself, and work harder to worry less about who accepts you.
Life is funny that way: you’re always with the in-crowd when you are with yourself.
You know?
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