Saturday night at the convention was in full swing. A klingon in full regalia was discussing Harry Potter with slave princess Leia. A procession of corseted figures had just gone past, headed for the dance. The bar was full of authors and aspiring authors solving the problems of the world over drinks. Downstairs the filk had just begun. The conversation in which I’d been taking part had just broken up as some people headed off for bed. Howard had been shanghaied into a Shadowrun LARP. I took a moment to step away from the bustle and just watch. I retreated to an otherwise unoccupied balcony that gave me a view of convention central.
I stood, unnoticed, and watched the bustle below. I became aware of a subtle unease inside myself. Below me were dozens of people very different from myself. They were publicly doing things that I choose not to do. Near me was a table with flyers, some of which explained or defended alternative lifestyles. I live in a community where 80% of the population shares my religion and moral code. It was definitely a “not in Kansas anymore” moment. I had several of those throughout the convention. Usually they hit me when I had a moment alone to think.
I only stayed aside from the bustle for a short while. It is good to acknowledge the subtle discomfort, but it does not drive my actions. I’m gad that it does not. I had many fascinating conversations with people who made me feel subtly uncomfortable. I learned a lot about different ways of thinking and the motivations behind the choices that are different from my own. Sometimes the discussions made the discomfort disappear, sometimes it did not. In quiet times later I was able to analyze and try to sort my reactions.
In contrast, there were many people with whom I was instantly, and completely, comfortable. That is always a joy to discover. It is very happy to go to a new place and to find friends waiting for you there. Interestingly, physical appearance was not a particularly good predictor for whether or not I would feel comfortable.
At one point during the convention I had a conversation with someone who was describing a friend as “very religious.” I listened to the description and it sounded perfectly normal to me. Where I live it is very common for people to attend church every Sunday, to pray over every meal, to pray daily as a family, to pray before bed, to read scriptures daily, and to live a moral code which includes behavioral and dietary guidelines. Being at Ad Astra and listening to people there, I realized that to most of them my life would seam zealously religious. The comparison was fascinating to me and it gave me a chance to glimpse my life from another viewpoint.
One of the most obvious manifestations of this differentness came up in discussions of children. I always got a reaction when I mentioned that I have four(!) kids. In Utah families with 5 or 6 kids are common. A family with four is considered average. At Ad Astra I did not talk parenting with a single person who had more than three kids. By the end of the convention I began to feel than mentioning the number my kids was either bragging or a confession of lunacy. No one person ever implied this, it was just an aggregation of all the reactions all weekend long.
All of it together made me realize that living outside of Utah would be a challenge for me. Here, I am very comfortable. My choices about life and parenting are right in the center of normal. If I were to live somewhere else, I would stick out, be different. That position is inherently difficult. I would have to be strong to remain who I am when it is different from others. The thought makes me question my motives for choosing to live where I am comfortable. Not that I’m going to move any time soon. Our roots here are deep. Going somewhere else would be a major upheaval for us all.
The experience brings home to me that I need to be alert and aware of the people who live near me who are not part of the local cultural majority. They are outside the norm either by religion, or language, racial heritage, or lifestyle. As part of the majority I have a responsibility to see them and accept them for who they are. I have a responsibility to not treat them like they are invisible or irrelevant. I have a responsibility to reach out and find our similarities rather than our differences. I felt vaguely different at Ad Astra, but I never once felt alienated, because people were far more interested in finding points of connection than in defending their choices. I need to do that for the cultural minorities in my community.
Thoughts and experiences such as I sort in this blog entry are a major reason why I love going to conventions. While sorting these thoughts, I’ve come to the conclusion that it does no harm for me to live in a place where I am in the cultural majority, so long as I do not hide there. I need to keep going to places and meeting people that are outside my comfort zone. That is good for me, so long as I do not participate in activities that are outside my moral code. Conventions like Ad Astra are ideal for this.
That is the kind of feeling I get when I read your journal. Your life is so very different … and then there are the connections! And you let me peek into your community in a way I never could even if I moved there which expands my world enourmously.
For this, as well as a lot of other things, I thank you!
“One of the most obvious manifestations of this differentness came up in discussions of children. I always got a reaction when I mentioned that I have four(!) kids. In Utah families with 5 or 6 kids are common. A family with four is considered average. At Ad Astra I did not talk parenting with a single person who had more than three kids. By the end of the convention I began to feel than mentioning the number my kids was either bragging or a confession of lunacy. No one person ever implied this, it was just an aggregation of all the reactions all weekend long.”
My mother tells of an experience while living in the midwest US in the late 60s. A couple of women were going door-to-door promoting the idea of small families (like one or zero children). My mother was visibly pregnant at the time. As she was talking to them, another child, then another child, then another child showed up at the door to ask my mother for something. Eventually, the visitors asked how many children she had, and she said six (with, of course, another coming). She says the visitors took their leave soon after that. 🙂
The kid thing is something I think about a lot. My wife grew up with three siblings, and if she was in better health, I suspect we’d be talking seriously about having at least one more child. Which gets me thinking about whether I’d be able to handle that. A part of me questions whether I even have the temperament to handle two, and whether more would snap my fragile brain, and another part … well, let’s just say there’s a lot of what ifs.
Anyway, sorry if I contributed to the lunacy! And I appreciate you sharing your perspective here, and your thoughts on minority/majotiry.
For what it’s worth, even being someone who is very much a part of Ad Astra I’m sometimes a little uncomfortable with lifestyles that are very different from my own. For example this weekend I had an embarassing jaw dropping with surprise moment when I learned that a couple at the convention I knew was polyamorous. My friend was very kind and explained to me how she felt loved and respected in her relationship and it worked for her. It’s not what I would choose for myself, but if it makes my friends happy I support their choices. I’ve found that as long as people treat others with respect it all works out. I’ve learned a lot from interacting with different people.
We’re also in the biggest city in Canada so there tends to be much greater diversity compared to some other regions. I’d wonder how your experience would have been if you’d been in a smaller Canadian city. Fandom also tends to give people a safe place where they feel ok about being open about alternative lifestyles.
If more people (including politicians, religeous leaders, etc.) would have this attitude, the world would be a better place. Thanks for living the change.
Going to conventions is a great way of reminding yourself of the diversity of opinion that comprises mankind. You can meet and make friends with a broad variety of people who hold different views and values than yourself. You can also learn to identify potentially hazardous people and learn techniques for escaping and evading them.
On the flip side, convention attendees are a segment of a segment which results in some differences in population focus being overly exaggerated relative to societal baseline. Ergo, it’s inherently erroneous to try and back-extrapolate the behaviors, mores, and attitudes of con attendees to the hosting region or country. In fact, it’s more accurate to say that con attendees are more likely to be far fringe outliers than representative.
Still, the most comfortable gathering I’ve ever been to was LTUE and even there I was careful to assume nothing as best I could.
You’re welcome. 🙂