Estimated reading time: 7 minutes, 26 seconds
I’m an only child. I’m used to not being part of a small family. I remember growing up, watching the way brothers and sisters interacted and feeling excluded not just from their little circle, but from that whole dynamic. I have no idea what it would have been like to not be an only child (obviously) to the extent that I don’t know what it would be like to raise more than one child. I know, people do it. It just seems like a big leap to me.
I’m hyper-social. I’m very close to my cousins and even to some of my second and third cousins. I’ve always had several groups of friends at school and university. I never felt like I was comfortable having just one circle of friends. Within each circle, I never really liked to count myself as “one of them”, but rather, I liked to focus on my relationships with individuals within the group. Sure, it might be a group of maybe 20 people and I was very close to 10 of them, and very very close to two. But it was those 2, and then those 10 that I focused on. Not the “group” per se.
I continued being hyper-social into university. Joined several different places, based on my varied interests. As a computer science undergrad, I was never “one of them”, didn’t identify with the whole computer geek thing. But I had many friends within that group, and so with each one of these, I felt like one of the pair of us. If that makes sense. I guess if we were in an outing with JUST the people I was close to, I would have felt like “one of them” but it would only have been one tiny part of my identity because there were so many other sides to me.
When I worked for P&G, I identified with the company as a whole for a short while, then realized that most of my friends were from outside my department; I’d be invited to their weddings, etc., but I wasn’t “one of them”… and then I discovered I was part of a group of people who eventually left P&G to do grad studies… so I was one of them in the sense of “not being one of them” who stayed at P&G..
And now at work… for a long time while doing my PhD, I was a staff (not faculty) member. I was “one of them” staff but also teaching part-time and pursuing PhD made me feel like “one of them” academics/faculty.
And now I am faculty, but not full-time teaching faculty. So I’m “one of them” but not really in the fullest sense most people understand it. And I still identify strongly with staff, even though I’ve agreed to take on a leadership role in the AAUP, an alternative faculty body.
With my online life, for a while I was “one of them” PhD students about to finish their PhDs, learning tips on how to finish writing and how to prepare for the viva. But I was never really “one of them” because I was a remote student, not a residential one. My challenges were different.
I work at a place where there are a lot of wonderful people who care about education, and like integrating educational innovation including ed tech, but I’m not really “one of them” because I take slightly different views and approaches to ed tech (I intersect with each of “them” on various points, but I am not fully one of “them”).
I identify a lot with communities and individuals I’ve met online. Some of my favorite twitter hashtags (#digped #rhizo14 #clmooc and now #ccourses) – it’s a lot about identifying with the ideas and the individual people. Groups, for me, are not the main thing. People are. (and here is a side note: if I look like I am defensive about something, I’m not being defensive of a group or clique that seems to be there; I am responding about a person; I don’t think there is anything wrong with that as long as we’re not in a super-professional context – and even in my professional context I care about people and their feelings; it just seems that sometimes unintentionally as I do that, I make other people feel excluded and for that I am sorry; because even though clearly I care about some people more than others, I never mean to hurt anyone… I think!)
You know, I’m fully Egyptian and I love Egypt… but I didn’t grow up here… I remember growing up in Kuwait, when we used to look at things in Egypt or that Egyptians did/said and say “typical Egyptian” (a snobbish way of saying, I’m “not like them”). But I mean, obviously, in Kuwait, I’m not Kuwaiti… not “one of them”… and in my last year at school, year 12, all my Egyptian friends my age were at university in Egypt except for one other doing A levels with me and a few others not as close doing other stuff… I made more friends with my A level classmates who were Polish, Pakistani, etc., and friends with people who were younger than me one or two years, a group of mostly Egyptians and a group of mostly foreigners (my choir friends). I was not “one of them” or “them” or “them”. I didn’t belong to the Egyptians, I did not belong to the non-Egyptians.
I remember one of my facebook friends, just before she stopped wearing the hijab (Islamic head covering) wrote something on facebook about not feeling she belonged to “these” nor “those”, and I instinctively knew she was talking about planning to take it off, that she could not identify with the majority who wore it nor the majority who did not. I don’t identify myself right now with people who don’t wear it, people who took it off, or people who continue to wear it. The truth is, I never identified with any of them, because my reasons for wearing it were mine at the time. I did not wear it as part of a “wave” (when many did – I cannot speak for their reasons, but I knew I was not “one of them”) and whatever is going on now, it’s not for me to say or understand, but I also know there are people who still wear it for reasons different from mine, and I am not “one of them”.
But here is the thing. Here is me. Belonging, or not belonging to any group or another? That never changed who I am or why I do what I do. That was never the point, and that’s why I am surprised that anyone would feel like I am excluding them. I become part of an “us” when I am focusing on doing something with certain people. Like writing articles with Shyam Sharma, or collaborating with him and many others on Edcontexts (btw have you seen Bonnie Stewart’s latest post there?), that is “we” time. It is possible that those of us who worked closely on the autoethnography from beginning to now give a “clique” vibe. It’s possible others wanted to participate fully but we were not transparent enough to make a way in for them? That they did not understand how we were working and did some other stuff on their own? That we misunderstood their efforts as individual efforts and not part of the “collaboration” because they didn’t follow “our” way… whatever that is… we’re really still trying to figure it out, so I don’t really think it’s “ours”. There are a lot sub-groups of rhizo14 to which I do not belong. I was not one of them doing poetry and art and zeegas but most of “them” are still my friends and I’m totally ok not to be part of that. I’ve got a small group of “us” developing a twitter game together but I have individual relationships with each of them and there are different levels of “us”. I feel like I’m part of a group of people who do #digped discussions and write for the wonderful Hybrid Pedagogy (both the people and journal are wonderful), but I mean, really, I’m not one of “them”, right? I’m on the steering committee of the amazing #et4online (both conference and people are amazing – have you seen who the keynote/plenary speakers are?) but I’m not one of “them” am I? I’m helping out with EdCampToronto and I’ve never even BEEN to Toronto nor will I be there for the unconference. I’m not “one of them”.
You know what? I’m not one of them… I’m one of ME.
There is only one of ME.
Yup. I am an only child 🙂
And this is possibly the most ego-centric post I’ve ever written, but I needed to get that off my chest.