Noticed into invisibility

I recently read a book called Shantaram that aptly described one of the most significant aspects of expat life over here, and it got me thinking. To paraphrase, the narrator of the book, a New Zealander living in Bombay, describes himself at being stared at into invisibility. As in, it doesn't matter who he really is or what he is doing (In the book's case, he is involved in some illegal activities, in broad daylight, because no one is watching him. Or rather, people look at him but don't see him.), because all people see is an outsider, whose personality and characteristics they will define as they see fit.

I also started thinking about what I called cycles of invisibility--when I was in middle school, for example, I wanted to be invisible. In high school, I wanted to be noticed, to stand out. In college, it was a mixture. Living in Paris (and I think I've discussed this before in an earlier post), I was happy to be invisible, because it meant that I belonged. Here, most days, I would love nothing more than to be invisible. Because here I am highly visible and highly misunderstood. I am misinterpreted every day, seen only how people want to see me and not how I wish to be seen. I understand that this is always a problem, in any culture, because at home I have at times felt the same way, at a different level. But here I am confronted every day with the fact that I cannot control how I am seen by the world, that I have no say in the matter. I can't say, "No, look, you've got me all wrong," because I will not be understood.

I think this is what I am thinking about most as I head into the next phase of my life, that I miss being understood. Or, at least, better understood than I am here. In New York, or wherever, I am certain that I will be invisible at times, noticed at times, misinterpreted at times. But it will be a different kind of misinterpretation, a more familiar kind, and I welcome it.

I should be getting to bed. Just wanted to share these thoughts.

Love.