It was more than twenty years ago, and it was late at night in the student center at my university.
There were two of us in the room, a small fluorescent-lit corner office with crappy tables and chairs.
I was working on Aldus Pagemaker trying to sort out the layout for an article on community activism. "Jim" was working on research for the master list of corporations doing business in South Africa that our collective was demanding our university divest from. Now.
But this isn't about that...
Jim had been volunteering with the collective for a couple weeks, and he was really awkward.
He dressed conservatively. He didn't live on campus...which because our school was in a huge, expensive city meant that he likely lived at home. That meant he didn't have much chance to meet people.
Frankly, his behavior kind of freaked people out, especially the women working on our newspaper. It wasn't usually too over the top; but it was persistently awkward and uncomfortable-making.
This had become a thing.
Jim's long hours in the office had begun to mean that other people weren't coming in. He had a volatility that was scaring people.
Usually with any big decision we came to a consensus as a group about what to do, but I'm pretty sure that we didn't do that in this case.
The editor and I decided we were going to have to tell Jim that it just wasn't working out. I drew that duty.
::
So it was just me and Jim that night. When I began to tell him our decision I wasn't prepared for what would happen next.
Jim started to cry. His hands balled up with tension...not in any threatening way...just in a way that made me feel worried for him.
Jim told me that he'd joined our newspaper because he didn't have any friends. He told me that he knew that he was awkward, but then he asked how could he ever get less awkward if he didn't socialize with people?
It wasn't a question directed at me. It felt more like a question that Jim had asked in anguish many times before.
And yeah, when he asked it, with tears running down his face, and his hands balled up tight, I could see how someone could really freak out and feel threatened by him.
There was just so much anger and frustration and sadness Jim carried around with him. And it kept spilling out.
Jim wanted to know why we'd made the decision to ask him to leave. He wanted to know if it was something he had done.
Jim felt the fact that I wouldn't back down or compromise was totally unfair.
But when he realized that there was no changing the decision, Jim just looked at me directly and asked me if I knew what I was doing to him.
Did I know how hard he was trying?
I was twenty-one years old.
Maybe I did. I don't know.
But I've never forgotten that moment, or told it to anyone.
But once in awhile I'll think about it, and, yeah, it sucked.
We never saw Jim at the newspaper again. I have no idea what happened to him.
::
We all live in fear of "getting kicked out of the tribe." We all crave fitting in.
I'm writing this diary now, because as an adult, I understand more fully how deep those fears run.
I get what it feels like when someone stops returning your phone calls. I get what it's like to be on the outside, looking in, and wondering what the heck you did wrong to get there.
The answer, of course, is to take care of yourself. To seek community, and if needs be, counseling, to find a place where you can be yourself. Or, as in Jim's case, where you can begin to learn how to be yourself without disrupting other people.
I remember that's basically what I tried to tell Jim to do. I didn't have any easy answers then, and I don't now. But I can say this small thing.
I have worked with people who had an amazing ability to accept everyone.
It's one thing to believe in the inherent dignity and worth of every person. It's one thing to be committed to the principle that we are all equals, and that none of us is better or more worthy than any other of us.
But it is something that takes it to another level to put those ideals into practice, simply and directly, as part of how you work and live.
In my experience, folks who do this have a powerful ability to salve the anger and hurt that people carry around with them, to listen, to hear.
There's so many struggling people out there...like Jim, the "unpopular guy."
And there are so few wise souls who put the power of love and acceptance into practice on a day to day basis. We all know them. We admire them. There's something deeply pragmatic and wise about them, for all their idealism.
But they get so little recognition.
If you are one of those folks, please know this diary is for you.
Simply put, you are a mitzvah, a blessing, a light.