You know that exercise where you write a letter to your younger self? It’s a 12-year-old Peggy I wish I could reach back to.

She’s sitting at the lunch table alone, nose in a book, trying to act like she doesn’t care that the other girls think she is weird. Tomorrow, she will fake a stomach ache so she can stay home.

I want to tell her that there is nothing wrong with her. One day, she’ll realize this. And this hurt that she feels now will build empathy and inspire her to build spaces where others who feel alienated can be included.

I want her to know that weird isn’t even an insult. It simply means different. And everyone is. That’s what makes us unique.

And that her uniqueness will also serve as her destiny. Because that’s the other definition of weird, the original definition — weird also means fate.

Of course, how do you convince a little girl who everyone is making fun of that she’s not the problem? You can’t. Right now, all weird means to her is alone.

Then again, isn’t that what weird means to most of us?

That’s what makes weird so effective when we use it to otherize people. It triggers this deep insecurity, the one from our childhood, that deep-seated fear that says we don’t belong.

Because belonging is important, not just to 12-year-old girls.

We all want to belong.

Our social groups play an essential role in how we see ourselves and how we see the world. Having a supportive, caring network of friends is closely linked to our health and well-being.

Social identity is an important part of our self-concept, helping to strengthen our individual identity. Most of the time, anyway. Because sometimes it does just the opposite.

In fact, there is this phenomenon called groupthink that we can easily slip into, especially within more fervent groups or with groups we fervently identify. When groupthink takes over, we stop thinking for ourselves; everyone in the group thinks the same. 

This is not weird — it’s dangerous. 

That’s how communities turn into cults and why politics has become so partisan. For the same reason that even Peg’s best friend abandoned her that year. Because taking a stand will also mean standing alone.

However, it’s not always that extreme. Still, it’s hard to underestimate the power and influence our social groups hold. Being part of the crowd makes us feel safe. It also makes us feel right.

Weird is not the same thing as wrong.

If weird means different, normal means the same. While weird upsets status quo, normal maintains it. Either way, both are also subjective. Both are subjective labels. It’s simply a matter of what you’re used to. And so the smaller one’s world is, the smaller one’s definition of normal. The more fragile, as well.

In any case, weird may not be normal, but it is natural. The natural world is nothing if not wonderfully diverse, unpredictable, and full of bizarre anomalies. The closer you live to the land, the more you realize this. It is just as Mirriam-Webster defines weird: “Of strange or extraordinary character; odd, fantastic.”

And we are strange, extraordinary creatures, us humans, both odd and fantastic, each in our own way. Weird is our truth. Weird is our dharma. Weird is our uniqueness and it is a gift not meant to be squandered or hid.

As individuals, we may want to feel normal. But our humanity thrives on weird.

Join us for a special online gathering

August 31st at 2 pm MDT:

How Alliances Bring Us Together and Tear Us Apart

We will discuss the importance of social identity, how groups and communities help support and empower us as individuals, and why we need diversity, dissonance, and even discord within these same groups.