A pair of events last weekend threw into sharp focus how we humans mark ourselves to show others which tribe we belong to.
I imagine this has been part of what defines us as a species for at least as long as we have been a species, and I suspect Homo neanderthalensis probably fancied tribal markers, too. Maybe even Homo erectus? Ochre body paint occurs all over the prehistoric world, and while yes, it’s a great sunscreen, each group painted their bodies differently. For a reason.
Last weekend, I attended two events deeply tied to the outdoors that could not have been more different: The Minnesota Deer Classic in the Twin Cities suburb of Shakopee, and a stand-up comedy show in downtown St. Paul that featured two of the best known foragers in the nation, who, oddly, each did stand-up in their youth.
I went to the Deer Classic to help a friend, who had a booth there selling mushroom-related products and booking spots for mushroom hunting classes. I thought maybe I could sell some books there and drive a few people to the booth, which would benefit us both. (It worked.)
I am reasonably certain neither of us dressed up or down for the show. We were both in jeans, boots and hoodies. I wore a baseball cap with the logo of Texas’ King Ranch on it, and a green puffy jacket. She had a parka with a (fake?) fur-lined hood.
We fit in, more or less, with the crowd. And if not, I can definitely state that there we no weird looks from the passersby. And oh, those passersby!
An endless sea of camo, plaid, and jeans. Hoodies and shirts sporting hunting and fishing motifs, Second Amendment slogans, even a couple Trump hats. (But only a couple, interestingly.) A ball cap was standard issue on everyone, with most of the women sporting the “power pony” pulled through the hole in the back of the hat.
Basically the same uniform the crowd at Pheasant Fest wore in Sioux Falls, South Dakota the week before, only with less hunting dog paraphernalia. There’s a similar look at the Backcountry Hunters & Anglers annual confab, a sort of chic plaid and Simms gear mystique and oh so many moustaches! Think lumbersexual.
The evening was very different.
No plaid. No camo. Only one other person in the sold-out crowd wore a ball cap. No hunting or fishing motifs, and definitely no Second Amendment slogans. If there was one Trumper in the audience that’d be a lot.
Instead, I saw a sea of piercings, of haircuts designed to display difference. About a third of the crowd wore shirts or hoodies with either mushroom motifs or feminine nature designs, like Naiads or Dryads or various takes on “Mother Nature Bats Last” memes. Lots of black clothing, but also REI and Patagonia. Doc Martens and Merrells.
And way more diversity. We had to actively look for Latinos and Asians in the Deer Classic crowd, and I talked with only one Black person there. The foraging crowd was more mixed, although still majority white. It is Minnesota, after all.
I am sad to say that my appearance, so seamless at the Deer Classic, did not go unnoticed at the comedy event. Five times I felt the hairy eyeball on me, turning quickly to catch a glare from someone, a clear communication that I was not welcome. The woman who sat to my left refused to look at me, even though I tried to make small talk several times.
After the show, my friend lingered — she’s better known in this community than I am — and talked with colleagues. I tried to stay invisible. The experience was not fun.
For days afterwards, I kept thinking about uniforms. How we mark ourselves to be in this group or that one, and how the act of pre-judging someone based on outward markers is one of the nastier bits of the human experience. I’ve done it. So have you.
There are probably deep survival instincts going on here. If I have the right tribal mark on me and I meet a group of other hunters on the savannah, I’ll be OK. If not, I’m dead, a trespasser on someone else’s turf.
I didn’t consciously dress the way I did for the deer show, but nonetheless I adopted that “tribal” garb. I’m honestly not sure how I would have dressed differently for the comedy show. Maybe ditch the cap and switch from a Hunter Angler Gardener Cook hoodie to something nicer? I don’t own anything with a mushroom on it. I dunno.
All it took was dirty looks from just a handful of people to make me feel like a trespasser that evening, even though I have been a gatherer of plants and mushrooms for more than 40 years. I lacked the right mark.
Similarly, were I the sort with piercings, maybe sporting an “anarchy” t-shirt all drawn out in morel mushrooms or something (note to self: make that shirt!), I suspect the crowd at the Deer Classic would have given me more than my share of stink eye. There are a zillion examples of this out there, but the Skids and the Hicks in Letterkenny spring to mind.
It’s not the first time I’ve felt like this, and it surely won’t be the last. It’s just the latest.
I am not here to cast blame or hate on any group, and really ask you not to in the comments below. In fact, I demand it.
It’s more important to try to get past this instinct, because that’s what it is. Instinct. Age probably helps moderate it: I’ve now met enough Prius-driving MAGA fans and dually-driving socialists to know that covers can be awfully deceiving on the books and people we try to read. Until you get there, though, chances are you’ll go with the obvious. Even after all these years, I still have to swallow and blink and engage my active brain not to.
I don’t have the answer to this one, other than to do your best to wait before passing judgment on those you meet in daily life. Even that simple bit of advice isn’t easy to follow. Instincts are strong.
But after last weekend, I am going to try harder. I don’t want to be guilty of what happened to me.
You “demand” that your readers NOT comment? Wow.
As a person also who crosses traditional lines, (Liberal gun owner, stay-at-home feminist, Tesla driving hunter) I get judged a lot for who I'm not, but I think being a square peg in a round hole gives one the ability to reflect on those lines. There is value in being witness to being judged; You know you're living your true life, following your heart, doing you, if you find yourself in places you don't quite fit. Being all of one kind of thing is super boring. Better to be a little of everything, or rather, part of many things. You're right that all we can do is try, and try again, not to judge. The "Us V. Them" mentality is still prevalent, and will remain so the more we embrace it. Important to practice (and repeatedly remind ourselves to practice) compassion and empathy.