My daughter has thrived in most areas since the day she arrived here from Ethiopia. A peanut at four-and-a-half, she was only three feet tall and weighted 29 pounds on my bathroom scale, and that was after feeding her for two weeks while still in Africa. But she grew a foot that first year. Her concave belly filled in, her hair, so thin at first, grew into long, luscious curls. The only real hiccup she had was socially.
From what I observed, Kay comes from a place with a village mentality. People share. The driver who took us to see the Blue Nile Gorge gave away extra bananas outside the store where we bought them. Leftover food at restaurants was handed out the back door to anyone who needed it. And with only one exception, I saw the kids at the orphanage take care of one another. But when I enrolled her in a small, local preschool a couple of days a week, she had a hard time with the other little girls. There was clearly a Queen Bee and her court. Kay, who joined the group long after it had bonded, was simply not included. I chalked it up to the fact that she spoke more Amharic than English and hoped for the best when she started kindergarten.
She surpassed all my hopes academically, bringing home awards and high honors. But socially she had a rougher time and I knew it was because she was the oldest soul I have ever met. I asked her to be patient. Other kids hadn’t led her life and could not understand her inability to be interested in the silliness and drama created by little girls the world over. Kay had left her biological mother and moved to a new country at an age when most of the kids she met could not tie their shoes. She insisted, almost from day one, on dressing herself and doing her own hair. She was also a rigid rule follower and it took her years to understand that she really had to look away unless the other kids were burning down a building.
“You are older,” I told her. “You’ve led a different life. They will catch up to you.” And she did meet her tribe at dance and in theatrical productions. She worked her first job this summer and made friends with girls all a year or two or three older than she. Kay starts high school soon where there will be a large pool of possible friends and many will be at her maturity level. It is an exciting time, but I hope she proceeds with a bit of caution.
Friendship is often a difficult country to navigate and female friendship is a country filled with emotional landmines. It is also filled with a wide array of characters. Aside from the aforementioned Queen Bee, there is always a Drama Queen. In our experience, those best at performing that role do so with deft manipulation, leaving wrecked feelings and cracked friendships in their wake. It took us a surprisingly long time to name the Drama Queen impacting my daughter’s life at her middle school. We finally came to the realization that all the emotional upset stopped when the Drama Queen left the school. We had an “aha” moment with another parent and realized that life had become easy and friendly and decidedly calm.
There is always a Gossipmonger. She is easy to spot as she races from one group of kids to another, eagerly telling tales. Often she appears trustworthy, but take care if she is quiet as you relate a personal anecdote, as she is mentally taking notes. Kay learned to avoid the Gossipmonger early on in her school days. In high school the avid gossiper is sometimes more difficult to spot, so I am hoping she will hold her tongue until she gets a lay of the land.
Lastly, another archetype most women have encountered in their salad days is Fickle Fanny. She is the girl who cozies up to you at the beginning of the school year and makes you her bosom buddy. There are overnights and giggles and shared secrets. She then disappears over the summer and cozies up to someone new the next year. In Kay’s experience, Fickle Fanny also turned her ire on the previous year’s bestie, making her an outcast from the new group she was forming. We watched this play out every year.
So what do we tell our daughters? I am going to start by letting Kay know that our schoolmates often become lifelong friends. Many of my friends have been in my life for decades, one since junior high, several from high school, and many more from college. So be open to all possibilities.
Try not to be the one who brings trouble to the table. This is best done by just being oneself, being honest, and learning to not take everything personally. Always be thoughtful. I have told Kay that the troublemakers often have other issues going on in their lives that spill into unsocial behavior at school and in group programs, so have some empathy for them, but stay out of their way.
It took me decades to learn not to confront every bully or hurtful behavior. I was the young woman on the end of tearful phone calls or angst filled letters when I deemed it my job to tilt at emotional windmills. While my tendency is still to be confrontational, I am also as likely to analyze less, say less, and move on when things are not a good fit. With crossed fingers I hope I can pass some of my hard won wisdom to my child.
That said, in no way do I want Kay to be a doormat. I have taught her to speak out against injustice and to be a caring friend. If someone wrongs her I want to her to have a rational conversation about it. I just hope Kay will always keep a kind thought in the foreground and remember that she has to find people who love her for her entire being, including her quirks. We all carry baggage, and those who cannot enjoy us for our personal brand of crazy are simply not our people.
