Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Blue Underwear

"Wear nude underwear. Not white. White will show through your pants and dresses, and no one needs to see that," said Mrs. Tyler as she stood behind the podium at the front of the cavernous auditorium.

At other schools it may have been strange for a science teacher to lecture a room full of students on the color of their underwear, but not at my school. At my high school, this was the assembly everyone waited for. The one where a much-loved teacher lectured seniors on the dress code for graduation. There were no caps and gowns at my southern private school. Instead, there were white dresses and gloves for the girls and white pants for the boys. And nude underwear for everyone, apparently.

I slouched in my seat somewhere in the middle of the room trying to be as invisible as I felt. This assembly didn't apply to me.

I didn't need to know what color underwear to wear to graduation because I wouldn't be going to graduation, not by choice, but by circumstance.

My high school graduation took place on a Saturday morning, and as an orthodox Jewish Shabbat observer - the only one in my high school class of 186 - I wouldn't be able to attend. There was nothing wrong with sitting at the ceremony on Shabbat of course, but since I couldn't drive to the school, be in any pictures, or even carry my diploma from the stage back to my seat, that plan was rife with complications.

Early in my senior year my parents and I approached the school's board of trustees to ask them to consider changing the day of graduation. But this was the south, where tradition was everything and progress moved at a snail's pace, so the board barely even considered our request before telling us no.

They said "this is the way it has always been." And they meant "this is the way it always will be."

And that was that.

When Mrs. Tyler finally said all she could about underwear and called the assembly to a close, the room still buzzed with excitement as everyone discussed graduation, dresses, and the rapidly approaching end of finals. The festivities were a mere two weeks away, and I couldn't help but feel like every day until then would be one more reminder that I was - and always had been - on the outside looking in at this school.

With nowhere to be for the rest of the day, I got up and quietly walked out of the auditorium, straight to my car, every step taking me closer to the day I could leave high school behind and move on to a place where people understood me. Accepted me. Were more like me.

And on graduation day, while the rest of my class sat outside clad in white, I sat in my synagogue with my family, wearing blue underwear.

Just because I could.

17 comments:

  1. I felt like I was there with you, Sam. While the rigidness of the culture irks me, I can see how it helped shape you into who you are, which I love. Sometimes being on the outside gives you an entirely unique perspective.

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  2. that must have been really difficult. it's so hard being different but it's what makes us special.

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  3. What a great piece! I'm impressed by the strength and maturity you displayed.

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  4. How difficult for you during that time, but what character you showed! I live how you ended it he story and little bit of rebel you showed. :-)

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  5. Oh man, and that age can be so alienating, even without cultural or religious differences from your peers. But perhaps that feeling of being on the outside looking in is what helped you become such a great writer!

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  6. How sad that they couldn't be more accommodating. I've never lived in the south but have visited... there is a different feeling of tradition there. I like your little act of rebellion in the form of blue undies :)

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  7. That must have left you feeling very alone. It's unfortunate that the school couldn't have moved the ceremony.

    I have to ask though, why couldn't you carry the diploma?

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  8. That is heartbreaking, I cannot even imagine how you must have felt. I'm dying to know where in the south. This has obviously stayed with you, and the irony is if you'd been there, you probably wouldn't have remembered the day. I can recall very little about my HS graduation. Shame on those administrators!

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  9. It boggles my mind that anyone thinks the statement "This is the way it has always been," constitutes a rational justification for anything.

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  10. The absurdity and traditions of the south can suck it. I'm so sorry that you missed out on this and I love at you wore blue underwear!

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  11. This was such a creative way to begin and end this story.

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  12. This is so well written. I feel rage when I see it. What total bs. The south is so weird. I had to curtsy in a big white dress for my graduation so I am feeling you on some of this.

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  13. I am glad you have found your tribe now, Sam. How heartbreaking,.

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  14. The only way I can understand the absurdity of "This is the way it's always been." and the insensitivity is to feel it through your words. I can only relate somewhat because of how my son felt about his homogenous high school. He didn't fit, couldn't bloom but then he went to college and people "got" him and he grew. So well written. I felt you and and your emotions. So happy you found your place!

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  15. I really like your story because it was simple, well told and, had a unique viewpoint that was well explained. And I like your way of handling differences, not getting all bent out of shape (lawsuits, lawyers, media frenzy, etc...), but just carrying on. Things might not be so crazy today if we had a little more of that kind of tolerance. Kudos.

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  16. I’m so sorry – I’d have held a silent protest, too. Actually, I did, because I totally fell asleep at my high school graduation. In the front row while they were reading the crap that they read. It was so hot and boring that I nodded off.
    I love how you told this story, though. Muy Bueno!

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