For me, feeling out of place is nothing new. For years I have been the black sheep of the family. I’ve taken too long getting my degree, I read too much, talk too little. And now, now I’m moving to New York to pursue my love for acting.
So when this year’s family reunion rolled around, I was settling into a sense of dread. Already I had been told I was stupid for pursuing this field of work, that I was too overweight to take dance classes, all from relatives that barely know who I am anymore.
To say I felt out of place in a building filled with people that shared the same genetics with me is an understatement. I wore a yellow dress and sat with my young cousins that were about the only people that I could stand. I Skyped on my phone with friends from other states and countries that understood who I was better than any of the people around me.
In my family, I am an anachronism.