Refusing to fit in

A few years ago I was told >patronising voice< that one day even I would have to grow up and fit in.

Apparently, in this corner of the world, fitting in is something to do with not getting married til you’ve finished your professional training, having lived together for 4 years, having decided to have children. Children only get born post-30. And, obviously, we’re talking heterosexual, two white people, kinda marriage here! Fitting in is pretending to be a feminist whilst being a housewife, pretending you didn’t have sex before marriage but needing a wedding dress with bump space. Complaining about your husband, becoming a cross between Ma-in-law and Ma before you’re 40, having post natal depression because your friends did too, forgetting what initiative, happiness, good sex, getting drunk are like. Because now you’re grown up and have fitted in.

Maybe I’m being cynical....OK, I am being cynical, but hey, this is supposed to be a dispair-rant, a get-me-out-of-here-this-can’t-be-real article. Because I did it all wrong, you see...and I’m doomed to failure (except that I’m quite happy and successful in my own weird and wonderful way...oops!)

So, what went wrong? OK - first point of failure (you may want to sit down for this) I’m not middle class. I’m scum through and through but nice scum, scum wot read Dickens and the Brontës as a child, Guardian reading, real nappy washing, organic buying, recycling scum. Which makes me almost middle class, doesn’t it! Even though I was brought up in a hovel and didn’t know that floors could be cleaned, I still managed A levels and a degree. Well, all that gave me a funny turn on life you see. I also had no idea about how it was “supposed” to be, so just kind of attacked it all head on. One thing I never knew, which would have helped me no doubt, is that girls dream about their weddings, their children and, as an after thought, think about their careers. Well, my dream/thought process was something like this “jdfhaifhjdkvn ycmv jdfhafnjkcxnmxv “which wasn’t very helpful. It happened that I did marriage, children, degree all in one bloop. By the time I was 29, it was, so to speak, over. Now, 10 years down the line, it’s struck me that I never did that walk down the aisle thing, so I’m going to catch up and do it for my 10^th wedding anniversary. That’s some of what went so wrong.

Here’s some more: we bought and rebuilt an old house. My nasty sister said it was “derelict” which I found a bit harsh...OK, maybe it was true....but it’s not any more. (My sister isn’t nasty at all, by the way). And instead of me refusing to take part in any decision and just complaining about my husband being tired and dirty, I joined in. I have since done some research of how I should have done it and have found that I really did work too hard and not complain enough. Sadly, unlike other couples we know who have undertaken a similar project we are still married and live in our house. It’s such a shame, I would have loved to have had an affair, a divorce and a total new start in my life. Not only did I find a sudden (and passing) interest in insulation, I also got dirty myself. And let the children join in too. Funnily enough, I happen to think that a shared, family project should be just that, shared by the family. Even the littlest of children can hold a handful of screws and pass them at the right moment. Even children who are female can do this. This, obviously, is just wrong, wrong, wrong.

In 2004, I discovered that I am still only 14 and will be forever. What I mean by this is that, at 14 I was “real”. I knew what I believed in, what I wanted, what I expected from other people, what I would stand for and what I wouldn’t. Of course, I’ve added to that many experiences, good and bad. But I’m not willing to let go of that in order to fit in to some picture of womankind which is just a damn lie. I did try. It made me miserable, bored, naggy and horrible to be with. I tried it for a whole five minutes but after a while, I realised that it wasn’t for me. Gosh, got it wrong again.

Have you got a “you” hiding somewhere? Or do you live out in the fresh air like me? Do you fit in or are you a freak? It’s hard to tell, you see, because the real independent souls tend to look like the fit-ins. Only on close inspection do you see a glow of contentment, happiness, I-did-it-my-way-ness which marks us out and damns us forever.

Think this is a load of rubbish or do you agree? Why not add your thoughts on the subject of fitting in.

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"The personal *is* the political, sweetie" says Aïsha, age two.