A Blind Melon Video Once Lied To Me

I should do a whole series about the questionable taste in music I have had during my life. We all have those songs and bands we regret having liked. But this post isn't about that. Not really. It's about the way I've learned important life lessons through my addiction to music; lessons I wouldn't have learned without having music in my life. The lesson I'm going to talk about today, I didn't learn from a Blind Melon song. Rather, I learned it through the years that followed the Blind Melon video that we all saw, and the slow realization that the hope this video gave me was a false one. But this post isn't even really about the lie, but what the lie taught me. With that introductory paragraph out of the way, let's get into it! I present to you Exhibit A, which I would embed herein, but the record company has disabled embedding, because they are F*@#sticks. Watch it for a trip down memory lane, or if you grew up under a rock and never saw this one.

A young Christina sort of liked this song, although Shannon Hoon's hair and entire visage disturbed me. I liked the song, but the video blew me away. The message probably resonated with a lot of misfit kids, because we all know that a large portion of teenagers experience strong feelings of alienation. I was one of those kids, but those feelings didn't start at puberty for me, nor did they end there. Maybe this is just me being my overly sensitive, silly self, but I remember first feeling incredibly different from everyone when I started kindergarten, and those feelings have followed me throughout my life. I'm 30 now, and probably should have moved past feeling that way, although I haven't quizzed other 30 year olds on whether they ever outgrew their feelings of alienation.

I have two theories for why I always felt this way. First, maybe it is a personal weakness of mine to always focus on what I don't have instead of on what I do have. This of course extends to commonalities with other people. I can have so many things in common with a person, but the differences to me, no matter how small, look like mountains. Second, maybe I AM different. I mean, I'm physically and mentally sound so I shouldn't feel so different from everyone else in this world, but I do. The details that define who I am, I've never found in another person. Find me another Greek person, who has strong protestant faith, loves Orthodoxy, hates sports, loves punk rock, loves indie rock, hates hippie culture, is pretty much straight edge, and loves animals too. Find me another person my age with these same traits who was raised by a mother and father like mine, who grew up in the Great Depression in lands far away from each other. I've never met that person. If I did, you can be sure that I would find political and ideological differences that would again look like mountains to me. I know deep down that this is true for everyone, but of course to me, my own identity seems so much more removed from everyone else's.

So, the Blind Melon video lied. I felt so heart-warmed as a teenager to think that maybe someday, I would climb a hill and find a bunch of people dressed in bee suits just like mine. But mine seems to be kind of unique, and that's cool. I like being different. My parents are pretty special. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm pretty special. What's weird, though, is that the Blind Melon video didn't lie to everyone. I see kids move to Portland pretty regularly from places where they felt alone, like I did in the South. They move here from Ohio and Indiana, and upstate New York. Some move here from Philadelphia and Washington D.C., where you wouldn't think they'd feel alienated, but they did. They show up here, and they are lucky enough to immerse themselves in a community of people who from my perspective are incredibly similar in ideology and belief structure, upbringing, social class, and even in the brands of cigarettes and beer they enjoy. Even in the types of drugs that they like to do, the games they play, and the personal care products that they use or don't use. They all seem so incredibly alike in every important way. In Portland, and probably in lots of cities, people group together just like they did in high school, only in Portland it's the people who didn't seem to fit in to any group in high school. These aren't so much the people who played on the football team, or the cheerleading squad. These are the kids who sat alone at the lunch table, all grown up and having found their bees in Portland. So I know that this really does happen.

But the point of this post, like I said about a mile ago, isn't that I didn't find my bees. I don't need to move to every city in North America to know that I won't find them. They don't exist, and that's partially because I'm overly critical, and partially because I came from a situation that isn't too common. The point of this post is that I'm glad I didn't find my bees. Here's why. Think again about the people who moved to Portland and found their bees. Now, these people are free to surround themselves entirely with people just like them. Their hearts are gladdened by the commonality, and the fun times abound. I can't even begin to know what that feels like, but I do know what happens next: Bigotry. See, when you surround yourself by people who are just like you, you tend to get a feeling of smugness about your life's choices, your beliefs, your looks, and everything else about you. I know this to be true, because of having lived for so long in a red state, and then moving to such a very blue state. People in both places have zero ability to look at things from a different perspective than the one that surrounds them, and they tend to get really high and mighty about how their way is right and there is no other way to view an issue. But that's just being sheltered talking. When you move back and forth from one area to the next and one group to the next, you tend to get your beliefs and ideas knocked down a lot. Now, I'm not going to try to say I'm all that humble. Anyone who's ever read this blog knows that I can be a real you-know-what when I feel strongly about something. I act like I'm so right and that there's no other way to view it. But for most things in life, I've learned to take the stance of shoulder-shrugging. Those are the things I don't blog about. Things I was so sure of as a teenager, now I'm not so sure about. And the people who have convinced me to not be so sure? I don't quite believe them either. I think for myself, and I lean this way and that, and I find a middle ground.

And this is the blessing that I never thought I'd have back when I dreamed of finding my bees. The blessing of having so many friends of so many backgrounds that I can gain insight that I never thought existed before. Also, I think I've learned more than a lot of people about how to be REALLY accepting of everyone. Sure, I still find weaknesses in my ability to hold open arms, but I am so much more open to different types of people than I ever dreamed of achieving, and I owe that to the fact that I was never able to find my bees. Getting knocked down by differences, learning how to look past the insults by people who were socially sheltered like me growing up but remained so as adults has taught me how to love those people more than I ever thought I could. I have friends now from every social class and so many belief structures. And I've repeatedly had to feel the sting of being rejected by people who have their bees. Some of those people moved to a place like Portland to escape bigotry. They fled their Middle America homes to come to a place where they were free to be what they wanted, and found a whole stereotype they could fit into. I don't know what that feels like, but I do know, now, that when you find your stereotype, it can cause you to discard the people who were part of your life before, whose differences from yourself made you uncomfortable. And you become exactly that which you said you weren't when you left the place that rejected you. People sometimes come to Portland it seems with the express purpose of becoming bigots and looking down their noses at anyone who is different, all the while holding the hypocrisy of not realizing that they are doing exactly what was done to them, calling themselves open-minded and their homes "safe places." The lesson I've learned is that you're not open minded until you can confront the beliefs you hate in another person, welcome that person into your home with open arms, and love them because of their beliefs. And your home isn't a "safe place" until people whose beliefs are opposed to yours can be free to not be insulted in your home.

It's easy to love people for being similar to you, but it's hard to love people who disagree with you. And that's a task that I don't ever want to have the luxury of giving up. I hope I have to continue meeting people who force me to face the reasons I hold my beliefs, simultaneously making me love them for their wonderful personality traits. I hope I never find my bees, and that the difficulty of getting along with people who are different from myself, loving them for exactly who they are, and rejecting bigotry that I didn't even know I held, is a curse that I am always blessed with. You learn true loyalty that way, and loyalty has always been important to me.