Paradox on Hiatus

I just found out one of my closest and longest friends is pro-life. When the conversation came up, I realized two things.

1. I had never asked and she had never asked and our friendship and conversation has never delved into politics or ideology. In fact, we had never really talked about “grownup stuff” until we hung out together this particular night. Apparently we’ve only ever conversed in witty banter and boy talk. For six years.

2. I wasn’t strong explaining my own beliefs. I was taken aback by what she said and when it was my turn to share, I found myself explaining my pro-choice views with a very apologetic tone. I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t stop. I often find myself being intolerant of people who don’t think other people should have a choice, or who use their religion to solidify their political views (nshe didn't), but in this case, I was trying very hard to make her be OK with me, so hard that I painted my view as the bad one. As if I should say sorry for being pro-choice.

I was incredibly annoyed with myself, as you can imagine. Especially because her response was so chill, as ever, “That’s cool,” which is why I love her in the first place. She didn't care we had different views on something I've always considered a heated subject, although she looked a little amused at my scrambling to explain. And I’m the moron who nearly pissed myself making a big deal about political ideology.

The thing is, I didn’t do it because I’m iffy with my beliefs, I did it because of my need to comfort people. I put a lot of value on hospitality, and trying to make people comfortable and happy, which really clashes with the fact I love speaking my mind. I hate imposing upon people, but I love standing up for what I believe in. In this case, I didn’t impose, but she wasn’t challenging me. She was asking me. So I found myself questioning (again) what’s more important to me.

Really, I’m a confused girl. There’s one thing I know for sure about myself - I like change for the hell of it. I was that kid in high school that dressed preppy one day and goth the next, not because I didn’t know who I was, but because I knew exactly who I was: someone extremely interested in breaking limits, fucking with expectations, blurring the line from one stereotype to the next, and surprising people. The biggest compliment someone could pay me would be something along the lines of, I don’t get you. I think escaping the limits of categorization is important to lead a happy, exciting lifestyle. I don’t know why I’m like that, but I’m sure it’s a whole other blog post. Maybe psych thesis material.

But that's why I’m uncomfortable explaining my views. Or calling myself a liberal. A feminist. An atheist. Because while I am those things, in the most basic of terms, a label like “pro-choice” doesn’t even begin to describe my views. I don’t like putting myself in groups when I think I have too many qualities that contradict.

It’s just easier on paper.

In my Writing Fiction class, I came across a really intriguing author named Paul Lisicky who kept being asked in interviews whether his work was fiction, memoir, or poetry. No one could peg it down and he would never tell anyone. He said, “I’m really interested in slipping in the spaces between genres…most of my friends were poets at Iowa (his school), but I think I’m one of those artists who isn’t terribly comfortable being categorized.” That really spoke to me.

I’ve been searching for a proper term to define this…motivation behind my daily life, I suppose, but that fight is, in itself, an effort in futility. But I'm extraordinarily happy to be thinking about it.