Column: Living as an outsider

'I wished I had someone who understood me.'

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Lizeth Godinez

"Although, sometimes it's nice to be the outsider. What can I say, I’m unique in my own type of way."

Anger and confusion are the emotions I feel when my parents tell me I have to share their beliefs and mimic their actions. It’s tough. They expect me to be “perfect” from their view but as soon as I gain power to speak up, I’m suddenly a disappointment. Interesting.

I’m not saying I hate my parents or anything, I just get easily frustrated when they think they know what’s best for me.

I understand that their priority is to “protect me.” But what if I don’t want to have one mentality about a certain situation? A lot of the time what makes me irritated is the fact that my family won’t accept viewpoints that differ from their own. 

For once, can they just give it a chance? Or at least hear what I have to say? Can they understand I have my own opinions too?

These questions always lead to an argument.



Growing up, I was never the kind to follow the crowds. Unlike my parents and siblings, I never wanted to go out to parties or visit friends and family. I would rather play outside, draw or read because it would distract me from the negatives in my life and give me time to clear my mind which I always needed to do.

But I was always required to go.

As the years passed, I started exploring different perspectives, making it easy for me to have an open mind. I realized people are people, they have their own lives and problems and I shouldn’t judge them for that.

So why does my family think they have a say in other people’s lives?

It’s their lives for a reason and they can choose to live them however they want to; I don’t get why every person my parents meet has to meet certain expectations. Just let people live.



Religion is always the center of attention.

Because I grew up in a Catholic household, I was expected to believe in what they believed. But personally, I was never interested in religion so I didn’t really care. Lately, my mom has been a diehard Catholic which I didn’t mind until she implied other religions are fake. Even as I defended them, she would call me crazy and scorn at the “wrong” information history class was teaching me.

So I end the argument there.

Unlike my parents, I support the LGBTQ+ community because I know people need to have strength and be brave to come out, while some people hide.

But I guess they don’t understand the struggle.

Also, what is wrong with liking K-pop? Nothing, nothing is wrong.

But for my parents, they seem to enjoy making fun of me for liking that genre. I truly believe they have an issue with other races because they always call the artist I listen to Chinese but when I fire back to say “What if they called us Spanish?” they get offended. It just doesn’t add up.

Can they just understand they make me a little happier?



I wished I had someone who understood me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in this world where no one in my family agrees with me. Then as soon as my brother says something or my sister starts whining, my parents are on their side. 

How is it that easy? I know they don’t pick favorites, but it feels like they do. 

I wonder if they understand who I am as a person, but how would they know if they don’t even ask. I get it, sometimes I’m too loud and have really weird opinions. At the end of the day, it feels like I’m just the burden of the family.

Although, sometimes it’s nice to be the outsider. I’ve learned to not hurt from it, but to enjoy it. What can I say, I’m unique in my own type of way.