On being different

Yesterday we (by which I mean www.reptile-events.co.uk) took part in an open day run by Bromley Youth Support Services at Streetwise Hub in Anerley.

It was a great day; the young people (ages 5 and up, but mostly young teens), staff and helpers were all wonderful, and the facility was amazing. What looked like a small cafe from the outside turned out to be a TARDIS; open area, kitchen and offices on the ground floor, gym, snooker room, computer room, recording studio, film editing suite and quiet room (which wasn't so quiet once it had a few snakes and lizards in there) in the basement, plus information and notices on drugs, knives, racial abuse, bullying and anything else that might affect young people in an urban environment, and I'm guessing that there were a number of trained counsellors among the volunteers and staff. The free burgers, hot dogs and pizza were extremely welcome too!

As usual, there were some people who came straight in to handling the reptiles, others who touched but took a while to decide they wanted to hold, and a small number (both adults and younger) who overcame fears - firstly to enter the room, then to touch, and finally to hold. Among these was a girl - I would estimate aged around 12 or 13 - pretty, but she didn't speak at all - just shook her head when I offered her to stroke the Berber skink I was holding.

About an hour before the open day finished, the fire alarm went off. We had been told that no drill was scheduled, so quickly boxed up the animals and started to follow the kids (not a word I like in this case as I think many of them were older than their years, but "young people" sounds pompous and p.c.) out, when one of the volunteers told us that we could stay inside safely. There was a legal requirement for them to evacuate the people in their care, but since they knew what had caused the alarm to go off, they also knew there was no actual danger. There was, however, some burnt pizza.

Once the kids came back into the centre, only half a dozen or so came back down to us, creating a very different, calmer atmosphere. People were sitting on the couches with a snake in their hands, just chilling out. And among them was the quiet girl, who was now holding an animal.

I can't remember was it was I said - to two or three of them in general - but she replied "I'm different". It was the first time in over five hours I'd heard her speak.

I didn't ask how she was different - this wasn't the place or time. Instead I replied "Everyone's different in some way or another. Sometimes it's easy to tell, and other times it's hidden, but almost everyone has something about them that's not "normal"". Then I explained that Emma was born deaf, although surgery has left her with reasonable (but not good) hearing, and she still lip-reads. And when Luc was born, he was so small that the hospital staff didn't think he would survive. And I was lucky to be alive at all, because my mother had a big operation less than two months before I was born.

The boy sitting next to her volunteered that he was dyslexic. I added "Brendan's dyslexic too, and Emma's dyspraxic". (Emma, Luc, Brendan and I made up the Reptile Events team yesterday. We have another regular volunteer, Greg. He's not normal, he's Silesian. Or Silurian. I forget which. Does it matter?)*.

"Everyone's different. Some are smaller than other, some taller; some may have a health problem; some may have one eye a different colour from the other. In fact, if you ever find anyone who's not "different" in any way, I'd say that's they're not normal!"

The quiet girl smiled. In fact I think she almost laughed.

I never did find out what made her "different", but I think I made her see that a difference just makes you normal.

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On a similar point, I was recently reading a blog post by someone who had major surgery at the age of 24 or 25. It was clear that this was his first surgery and, in fact, he was concerned over having a large scar that would be hidden by clothing most of the time. His question was this; when do you tell someone that you have a scar? Do you wait until it becomes visible - on a  beach, changing a wet shirt, or in a moment of intimacy, or do you say something before?

I suppose that, if you have nothing of that sort until your own body image is firmly fixed in your brain, it's likely to disturb you. That's not something I would know as I've had one surgical scar since well before I had a "body image", so it's never been new to me. I also have two later scars, each around 10 cm long, but these are visible most of the time so should never be a "surprise" to anyone else; having said that, people I work with usually don't notice them until I mention them.

I know that it's widely said that we judge on appearances, but do we? And, if we do, should we?If someone, on seeing me for the first time, decided that I was not worth knowing because of my height, or bad skin, or weight - well, I don't think I'd mind not getting to know them. I think of it as "self-selected bigotry".

And do should we judge people by their scars, over which they had little or no control (unless they self-harmed)? What about tattoos? Goth make-up and dress? This week, one police force has ruled that Goths are a recognised minority, and can be the victims of "hate crime".

Enough - I should possibly have had this as a second separate posting as there's much more I could say, and far much more I could ask.

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*Greg's Silesian. I knew that really. But it still doesn't matter.