<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve never been a stranger; the small town I grew up in ensured that. What I wore, said, or did followed me incessantly. Even people I didn\u2019t know knew me through some distant family relationship. The atmosphere was stifling, creating a pressure to conform. Growing up with the same selection of people constricted my ability to thrive and change. I felt trapped by preconception. Slowly, I developed an overwhelming self-consciousness that lived with me for many of my younger years. The weight of eyes and the pressure of constantly being known exhausted me and prevented change. Only in escaping that space could I find liberation in being a stranger.<\/p>\n
So I grew a love for travel, finding comfort in the being unknown, even if only briefly. I recall walking the streets of Milwaukee, dancing along the sidewalk under the warm glow of the streetlights, finally unaffected by glancing eyes. I was a stranger to them, bound to be a forgotten passersby. There was a sense of comfort; it emboldened me. Each time I was away, I got a taste of intoxicating freedom from the looking eyes and circulating whispers I had grown up knowing. Without the preconceptions others carried, I could be anyone. For once, I exist untethered to a history, existing in a vacuum, and with it came a sense of independence I hadn\u2019t realized I was missing.<\/p>\n
I am not alone in this feeling; artists across media and time reflect this idea in their art almost constantly. So why are people fascinated with the longing to flee? I think it comes back to the intrinsic desire to be a stranger. Because as much as we long to be known, another part of us pulls us away, desiring the sense of freedom that\u2019s only found in anonymity. When no one knows your beginning or future, you can be whoever you want, and that space is where we discover ourselves.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n