Bands of Belonging
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I belong to a tribe of ranchers who base their happiness on harvest and whether the cows get home, women who throw their hair in a bun and cook until the skies are full of warm colors, and small-town country kids who work in the time they aren’t cramming ‘unwanted’ knowledge into their brains. I am a sister, granddaughter, friend, and student.
I belong to a tribe of people who find peace in being alone, and happiness with the few people they surround themselves with. I turn my back on unwanted drama, and go down the path of many uncertainties. I seek growth in myself, as well as others. I strive to leave a positive impact on the people who observe, with good decisions and positive leadership.
I belong to a tribe of wishful thinkers, who get lost in their own thoughts and dreams. I am also a romance-fanatic, but will refuse to accept love in full form from others. I am an admirer of hugs and flowers and small gestures, as well as quality time and “this reminded me of you” moments. However, with receiving gestures of this sort, there are instances of overthinking and self awareness. There are worries and arguments and stresses, although they all bring balance.
I belong to a tribe of anxiety-driven people, who stress over small things and have attacks over the big ones. I stress until I am unable to stress anymore, about every little thing. I worry about getting my assignments done in time and being late. I feel as if I must put everybody in front of myself, and worry about other people’s happiness. I find a sense of security in the few things I find happiness in.
I belong to a tribe of leaders, who like the sense of being in control. I like to make final decisions, and help lead my class and followers to a victorious state of mind. I enjoy the feeling of being included, and giving others the opportunity to feel like their voice is heard. I feel as if all opinions should be listened to, whether ideas, predictions, wishes, or beliefs.
Finally, I belong to a tribe of hard workers who live rurally, growing and herding the food that society needs. With a job from six to eight in the summers, we slave away, building muscle while throwing bales and pounding staples into fence posts. While laboring the day away, we laugh at the humor people share, scream the rock music played over the bluetooth speaker, and smile at the stories being told on scorching hot summer days, contributing to a sensation of belonging.
