Situationally Susan

I have a foggy memory about a lot of things, but one incident I remember clearly:

I was in high school.  A friend and I had been talking to an adult, then it was just the two of us chatting.  And my friend said something like, “You TALK differently when you are around adults, it is like you are a different person around different people,” and the tone of her voice made it clear that she meant it as an insult.

I thought about it then (after feeling hurt), and I have pondered it since.  Am I a “different person” around different people??  Am I one Susan to some, and a different Susan to others?

I have grown a lot since my high school days.  I like to think that over the last decade I have grown tremendously in my self-confidence and desire/ability to live an authentic, THIS IS ME, “open book” life.

And yet…

Incidents pop up every once in awhile that drive home the point that I do act differently around different people.  And when I notice that happening, I try to stop and examine the situation:  WHAT is different, WHY am I not behaving as I “normally” would?  And after frequent examinations of incidents like this, I think I have come to this conclusion: EVERYONE ADAPTS SITUATIONALLY.  Either we were taught to do this by societal norms, or maybe we may be hard-wired that way.  But the honest truth is:  we are sometimes “different people” around different people. 

And at this stage in my life, I am trying to teach myself that that fact is not inherently a BAD thing. 

What brought this issue up today was a march for equal healthcare, equal rights for women.  Now, I have made more signs and marched in more protests since 2016 than I did all the other years of my life combined.  But today’s march was DIFFERENT…

Normally when I join big protests I am at home in Arlington, Virginia, so I go to Washington DC.  That is typically the hub of these types of events – marches for immigrant rights, women’s rallies, gatherings pushing for stricter gun legislation…  Thousands of us gather on the National Mall and march through the streets of the nation’s capital.  David always goes with me (even though he is not a big fan of these events).  There is such energy – it is almost electric being surrounded by thousand of people cheering, waving signs, chanting, and uniting for a cause that you believe in.   

But today, for the reproductive rights rally, I was in our little home in Florida.  And David is in bed quarantining with Covid.  Which left me to go alone... 

Protesting alone.  In Florida – a very red state.  In a small town…  A town where we drive by a mansion on the ocean that has owners who have professional signs made that they change weekly, always spouting hatred and lies.  This week’s sign reads (I kid you not):  Crackhead Democrats Give Crackpots to Crackheads.  And this is a professionally made sign! 

I considered staying home and not going.  There’s lots that needs to be done around the house, and David needs nursing.  But I really wanted to go, and I knew I needed to go to express my outrage at the likely upcoming decision by the Supreme Court turning back the hands of time in our country, back to the days when back-alley abortions risked women’s lives.

So, I made a sign (2 sided, I am a professional!), slapped on some sunscreen, and went.

And before I even walked 2 steps to my car, I became a “different person”. 

The “normal Susan” would’ve held her sign up high when she saw neighbors outside and waved that sign proudly.  She would’ve hollered, “Good morning!  Are you going to the rally??”.  But I didn’t.  In fact, I HID my sign when I saw neighbors outside – I carried the sign low and put it in the trunk while the neighbors weren’t looking. 

I was ashamed of myself for a minute.  But think about it:  that “change” of behavior was not me being fake, me becoming “someone else”.  It was me CODE SWITCHING.  Me “reading the room” and knowing that this may not be a safe space to express my opinion. 

At home in Virginia, our yard always has some sort of sign in it.  “Love is Love”, “Immigrants Welcome Here”, “Be Kind to One Another”, etc.  Yet, in Florida, our yard has never had a sign.  Why?  We are not among like-minded people here.  The signs in yards here read, “Go Brandon” and “trump – Make America Great Again”.  A “Love is Love” sign would likely get our car keyed, and if not that extreme, it certainly would not make us any friends.

So, I went to the Ormond Beach march.  I was surprised to see so many supportive people gather!  I think there were around 150 of us – people of all ages.  And we MARCHED.  We held our signs high and marched across the main bridge and then we turned around and marched right back over it.

Front of my sign

I wondered if I would see a couple of my Florida friends on the other side, counter protesting on the anti-choice side.  I wondered what I would do if I saw them.  I decided I would hold my sign up, smile under my mask, and wave. 

Ruth sent her indeed!

Fightin for 65 years - longer than I have been alive.  THANK YOU, maam.

Gathering in the park before marching

This man was worried his sign might be offensive, but women around him 
assured him it was perfect.

YOU GO, GRANNY!

Classic

It has taken me a lot of years, but I have come to understand that “being different” around different people is not being fake.  It is wisely adapting to the situation.  It is being respectful.  It is wise.  And it is not bad.

So yeah – I will continue to let my freak flag fly.  I will be 100%, whole heartedly Susan.  But when I notice slight changes in my behavior, I am going to try not to flashback to hearing that friend chide me in high school.  Instead, I am going to grin and think, “Good job, girl, you’ve got this!”.

Back of my sign