The Outsider

The white smudge is a white butterfly named Lily. She wanted to be our friend.

Charlie has almost completely retired. In other words, my calf is now almost completely healed, but there are times when standing for too long or sitting for too long makes my calf feel sore. I am really looking forward to having my body without any obstructions from this unwanted outsider.

After an amazing body scrub/massage, I created the following prayer for and to my body:

Body,
I am yours and you are mine.
I love you.

While, the therapist--as she called herself--began to rub a rice (beautifully) scented body scrub my mind began to wonder whether her hands and her inner-self could identify things in my body. Did her hands recognize the traces left behind from past lovers and travels to distant lands? Did the knots in my neck and back tell her the story of my woes? Or better yet, could her hands read my future? Could she tell me where I will be next year?

This massage was a much needed trance for my body, mind, and soul. I have never been in an establishment where I allowed the masseuse/therapist massage my chest and or abdomen. I am a strong believer that there needs to be parts of your body that are left untraveled by strangers.  This woman--at this juncture--made me feel so comfortable that I allowed her hands to trespass the yellow tape that I had placed around my upper body. After the body scrub, the therapist asked me to shower (in the nicest shower I’ve been in, in the last year). I dried off and expected my time to be up, but then she asked me to lay down for the lotion part of my massage.

Side note: At times, I feel like an outsider could tell me more about myself and my body than I could. This massage reminded me that the vision we have of ourselves is very limited. After all, we could never get a close look at the pores in the middle of our backs. We are often stuck on an image of our body that no longer exists or never existed. 

At some point after my massage, I realized that I would have never experienced this luxury back home (with my salary), because this type of luxury costs a couple hundred dollars. But in Thailand, I paid $30 for an hour of pure bliss. I don’t know if it was the massage,  but I was reminded that I am an outsider living a life that was not intended for me. As a Latina, raised by a low-income single-mother in the city of Los Angeles--I was never expected to graduate from a distinguished liberal arts college, serve my country through community service, and secure a prestigious fellowship.

The truth is that I have worked very hard to be where I am and sometimes I get exhausted of feeling like an outsider in my own country and in my own life. In June, I ran into a group of American women, I enthusiastically introduced myself and one of them introduced herself and added, “It’s so great to be around white people again.” At that point, I made sure to point out that I didn’t identify as white. I know that this was her way of including me and making me feel like a part of the group, but her comment did just the opposite.

I am very accustomed to being the only woman of color in my professional and academic cohorts, but sometimes I wish that society would stop reminding me that a person with my background would have never overcome the financial and social obstacles that I overcame to be where I am today.

In Thailand, I don’t feel like an outsider until:

• I open my mouth and all that comes out is awful broken Thai. 
• My host teacher opts to speak only in Thai, because she is fully aware that the new English teacher will translate whatever she is saying.*
• During lunch time, a woman who I thought was my friend from the English department claims to have “tired jaw” and cannot speak English.*
• A friend instead of saying, “We need to take Glenda to the hospital,” says “We need to take the  farang to the hospital.”--As if everyone in Ban Phai didn’t know my name.  Side note: At my school, the teachers were upset that I decided to not sit around in the school during midterms. They said, “you’re a part of the school.” I have concluded that--like in most situations--I am not the outsider when it is for someone’s benefit.

*Side note: English teachers (and some teachers) at my school were initially ecstatic to have me on campus to practice/build their English skills, but that has now flown out the window.

After (A MUCH NEEDED) break from my school, I have decided to stop fighting many things that I cannot control. For example, I will accept that I am farrang/the outsider and no one thinks otherwise (even though they might say “kon thai” [You are Thai]).


I accept the role as the outsider, because like the masseuses' hands, I have different insights and abilities. My role as the outsider helps me be grateful for everything valuable in my life. As the outsider, I know that someday I will have the opportunity to prevent others from feeling like the outsider.

Sincerely yours,
The Outsider

Otherwise known as Glenda

Before my life changing massage at Chivit Thamma Da in Chiang Rai, Thailand

Day 2 of Chivit Thamma Da. If heaven exists, I want it to look exactly like that coffee shop.