No One Chooses to Live On the Fringes of Society

No One Chooses the Fringes About 20–25 years ago, I worked with a brilliant young professional woman. I admired her. I respected her intelligence, her drive, her clarity. And at that time in my life, I was still very much a work in progress. I could be reactive. I could be messy. I was healing wounds I didn’t yet have language for. One day, I upset her. I own that. But during the intensity of that moment, she said something to me that lodged itself deep in my spirit: “You live on the fringes of mainstream society.” It was meant as an insult. And those words followed me for years. What Does It Mean to Live on the “Fringe”? At first, I felt defensive. Then I felt ashamed. Then I felt confused. Because the truth is—I didn’t choose the fringe. No child does. I was adopted into a Cuban family. I didn’t know my birth heritage. Inside my own home, I was teased and called “gringo” or “white boy.” Outside the house, I was mocked for speaking Spanish and for my accent—until puberty sanded it down into something more acceptable. Then came my queerness. The subtle and not-so-subtle messages that I was wrong. That I was too much. That I was an embarrassment. That my existence required correction. And that was just my first fifteen years on this planet. So when someone suggests I live on the margins as if it’s a lifestyle choice—like I woke up one day and thought, “Yes, I’ll take social exile, please”—I have to pause. No one chooses marginalization. We Are Pushed to the Edges People are pushed there by race. By economics. By immigration status. By colonization. By sexual orientation. By gender identity. By cultural expression. The list goes on and on. Children do not opt into being outsiders. Teenagers do not apply for social exile. Young adults trying to build careers do not select “fringe” from a dropdown menu of life paths. We are pushed. And then, if we survive the pushing, we adapt. We build community in the cracks. We create art in the shadows. We develop resilience in spaces that were never meant to hold us. The Language Game Today we use softer words. “Disenfranchised.” I’ve always found that word patronizing. Disenfranchised from what, exactly? From systems that were never designed for our flourishing? From institutions that historically excluded us by design? From power structures that defined “normal” so narrowly that entire populations were erased? If you were never invited into the house, you weren’t disenfranchised from the dinner party. You were excluded. And there is a difference. The Power of the Edge Here’s what I understand now that I didn’t understand back then: The edge is not a place of weakness. The edge is where evolution happens. The edge is where culture shifts. The edge is where spirit moves. The edge is where new ideas are born before they ever become mainstream. Every major social, artistic, and spiritual transformation began at the margins. What is fringe today becomes foundation tomorrow. So when someone says, “You live on the fringes,” I no longer hear insult. I hear: You see what others don’t yet see. You are not confined by narrow definitions. You survived what was meant to erase you. That’s not shame. That’s power. You Matter If you’ve ever been made to feel like an outsider… If you’ve ever been told you were too ethnic, too queer, too spiritual, too different, too poor, too loud, too soft, too much… Hear me clearly: You are not a mistake. You are not a social error. You are not an afterthought in someone else’s narrative. You matter. And the people who insist you don’t? They are clinging to systems that are already shifting beneath their feet. Yes, it sounds a little like Dr. Seuss. I don’t mind. Because sometimes truth needs to be simple: You matter. I matter. And the edges of society are often where the future is being written. And I love you.