Finding Your Tribe

In this day and age of instant easy access to everyone and everything, where staying "connected" is a buzzword, it would seem like making friends would be as easy as pie. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it really seems to be just the opposite.  I think with technology like texting and Facebook, we have come to take each other for granted.

Back in the day, you would go to summer camp and hangout with all these new fun kids for a week and then it was done.  On that last day the scraps of paper with scrawled addresses were exchanged in a flurry of hopeful sadness.  You knew that if you wanted a real friendship you would have to make an effort, letters would have to be written.  At that time long distance phone calls were not unlimited, they were a financial commitment reserved for grandparents and other close family.  So-- you wrote letters back and forth which you read and re-read, strengthening those bonds until the next summer when you would see each other. These days we can literally tap our phones together and exchange numbers.  Our pda's are full of contact info for wonderful people we will never talk to again.  I don't know whether it is fear of seeming too eager and not cool, or if we are just plain too busy. But it seems we have lost the art of making real friends.  Well, I say no more.   It is time to be bold, to be yourself and see what happens.  In recent years I have been handsomely rewarded for doing just that.

Up until a few years ago, I was living here in Oakland with my then boyfriend, who was just about my only friend. I went about my daily life, working as a receptionist and speaking to literally hundreds of people a week. But outside of work, I did not seem to find anyone to hang out with.  I'm a So-Cal native, and as such I'm really open and will talk to anyone.   When I lived down there I hung around with a couple of great groups of people and had several close friendships, mostly platonic ones with guys.  Somehow that aesthetic doesn't really translate here.  The guys all wanna get with you, and the girls can't be bothered for the most part.  Then, about 7 years ago, I had my son.  Why, in all the talk about the glories of motherhood, does no one tell you about how soul-suckingly lonely it can be? I was not prepared.   I figured I would go to the park and instantly bond with all those other mommies through talk about attachment parenting and cloth vs. disposable diapers.  Not so. What I found were nannies and mothers who looked at me with vague curiosity, (my son is bi-racial), but with very few exceptions they did not speak to me even when I tried to initiate casual conversation.  That is until I went to the local library's story time and met a woman who is now one of my closest friends.  She invited to me come to a playgroup, and at first I was skeptical 'cause  I'm not a joiner and the term play date had always kinda given me the creeps. I wasn't able to to make it right away but we eventually ran into each other again, she re-extended the offer, and I accepted. What I found was a group of creative, cool, women who were fun and still had personalities that extended past their roles as mothers and/or wives.  We bonded over a shared love of living lives that were true to our core values, laughter, and of course food.  Don't get me wrong,  we are not some kind of chocolate Stepford, nodding in slack-jawed agreement at each others' every word.  We are all races and religions-- doctors, stay-at-home moms, lawyers, dancers and entrepreneurs.  What we have in common is that we live life on our own terms.  At a recent child-free gathering, over a few glasses of wine, we came to the conclusion that we all were lone wolves, who found our pack.

More recently, I was exiting a performance of one of my all time favorite bands, Soundgarden. Now, as a life long lover of rock music, I am used to being the only girl of color banging her head. So imagine my delight when across the littered floor of the Civic Auditorium, I saw them--two African-American women about my age. Our eyes locked and we practically skipped over to meet each other. We talked as we walked of our love for all things rock and the tragic absence of others like us at the shows that we had attended over the years.  Long story short, I exchanged numbers with one of the women and went on my merry way home.  About a month ago, she texted me that Chris Cornell the superbly talented and handsome (that's a whole 'nother posting) frontman of Soundgarden was coming back to town on his current Songbook Tour and did I want to go? I briefly ponder whether it was wrong or overly indulgent to see the same performer  3 times in one year,(to be fair Chris twice, Soundgarden once), I decided to go with no, it was not, and yes, I did want to go.  That night was a first, she, I and two other fabulous self- confessed Black nerds went to one of the most enjoyable shows I have ever attended. It was so good to be there with my sisters who not only adored the performer, but also got where I was coming from. Again, I had found my tribe. Now in both cases, if I had just given the "what's up" nod, like we do, I would have missed out on so very much. So this is my advice to anyone out there who is feeling disconnected. Go where you love to go, do what you love to do, look people in the eye,  say hello,  and above all, don't be afraid to let your freak flag fly. Your tribe is looking for you.