A Young Melissa Etheridge

by HijabMan :: posted 22 September 08

As a fairly quiet 16 year old, I didn’t act on many opportunities to travel outside my self-created computer and television screen bubble. Starting high school with a bit of a rough patch, didn’t help much either. By the time of my junior year, however, I found some popular and friendly kids who created an open atmosphere in my physics class.

They actually invited me— scrawny, geeky me to volunteer with them at the homeless shelter. From what I understood, we would be babysitting kids while their parents tried to find work. At that point my low confidence level and teenage angst was still intact so I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that they invited me. Me— the kid people called Kim [I couldn’t explain it if I tried] from 3rd through 6th grade, the kid so uncool as to actually write anonymous letters to a cheerleader. [Boy, did that one blow up in my face, hahaha!]

I jumped at the chance, despite my fears. That very next Monday, my father dropped me off at the Red Cross Homeless Shelter. It’s safe to say that I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do there. I was hoping someone else from class would show up to ease the transition.

And, of course, they weren’t. The only not-homeless person present was the twin sister of a girl in my class. She seemed to know what she was doing, but I wasn’t at all comfortable asking something as stupid as,

“Uhh, what do I do?”

I sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria area, the ones you can find at elementary schools around the country. They were long, foldaway bench-and-table combinations made for squeezing in busloads of people.

While seated, I looked around. That was it.

That was all I did for a good 15 minutes. No one asked what I was doing. No one bothered me. I suddenly realized [the very obvious fact] that I was a volunteer. I wasn’t expected to do anything! There was absolutely no pressure to perform, and that was very comforting. Despite my nervousness, I found the shelter a very comfortable place. In fact, and this may sound absurd, it felt like home.

A young girl with straight, shoulder-length brown hair sat across from me, interrupting my thoughts. She was a six-year-old version of Melissa Etheridge.

With sixty-one first cousins my family is essentially a baby-making factory. The children of the family were almost always swept up into the care of a plethora of female relatives. To put it simply, I didn’t get to hang out with children much as a teenager, and as a result, I was just as shy around kids as I was around adults.

Melissa didn’t make eye contact with me. Instead she focused on coloring a Valentine’s day gift for her mother while I tried to make polite conversation and offered her various crayons. Soon afterward, we were like old friends. Having gained her trust, Melissa, her friends, and I would hang out every Monday evening.

Infants would surround me while I read aloud, and a little girl who only spoke Spanish would pretend to wash my hair every week. I would always playfully argue, “I wanted a haircut, not just a shampoo!”

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was a part of a very special place. I’ve never been so comfortable in my life.

Funny how people usually volunteer with the objective of ‘helping people,’ when oftentimes, the volunteers are in need of and get just as much ‘help.’

[Hat Tip to Sana]

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  1. Aychezistanian at 22 September 08 :: #

    yay I get to comment first! – yah, I know that sounds sad but whuteverr..

    That post was trest utile (useful) because it’s kinda helped me realise that even though I’m not an adult as of yet, I can still do something. In fact, I’ll be entering the big wide world of college (age 16) next year – that has gotta mean something! And with the freedom that comes with it, I won’t have to inquire permission from my mum to do such things..(because she is real toughie)

    Merci HM :)

  2. Nazish at 22 September 08 :: #

    HM – you always melt my heart with your experiences. I sit here today – late for work bc of dr’s appt – and kinda sad bc my boss hardly acknowledged me (whatever!)...but this totally made me smile. Just because I know you in person…and I know how you are…and I know that this is the real you. I just didn’t know you weren’t popular in school. Never woulda guessed that. You’re obviously very popular now.

  3. Purvis The Muslim at 22 September 08 :: #

    I wouldn’t have guessed it, either. Good for you for growing up into such a positive, fun-loving person! BTW, the link to your “rough patch” is dead. Can you fix it?? Pleeeasse???

  4. HijabMan at 22 September 08 :: #

    Nazish: shoosh. :)

    Purvy: fixed, but you’ve probably already read it

  5. Purvis The Muslim at 22 September 08 :: #

    ..yup, I searched for it. Wow, how courageous of you to tell your story. You’ll never know how many young people you’ve helped, I’m sure. When you are young and going through so much, it’s so easy to think you are the only one!

    Also, your sister = awesome.

  6. baji at 22 September 08 :: #

    “I wanted a haircut, not just a shampoo!”

    hee! you are too cute.

  7. yasmeen at 24 September 08 :: #

    Ha..another baby makıng factory

  8. Nadiyya at 28 September 08 :: #

    what an adorable post. I can really relate to something like this.

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