Thin-skinned – ever been called that? Yeah, me too. It’s not surprising given what we carry every day. It usually doesn’t take much to break the camel’s back, so to speak.
I have accepted the fact that I am thin-skinned. I’m great in crisis situations, but I don’t take bad jokes or teasing very well because it triggers me from my days of being bullied. Knowing and accepting this, however, makes it easier for me to respond to the situation at hand.
If my coworkers tease me in a way I don’t like, I remind myself that they don’t know my history and therefore don’t know that what they said is triggering. They’re not bullying – they’re being lighthearted and well-intentioned in their humor.
I have a complicated relationship with my Americaness (one of my parents is American). There are wonderful things about the US. However, when I first moved to New York City in 2003, I quickly realized that I did not fit in.
I was too blonde and blue-eyed, too teacher’s-pet material. Too Pollyanna. Goody-two-shoes instead of real, raw and somewhat aggressive. Too white (an entirely new concept to me).
A year later, in 6th grade, a classmate told me, “You think you’re better than us because you’re from Europe.” I was confused. Surely I couldn’t help where I was born? What is this insecurity complex with Europe? Of course I’m not better because of it. I was thin-skinned even then.
The message was clear: I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t pass inspection and needed to be put in my place. Othered from a very young age and caught on the backfoot, I didn’t fit in anywhere. I was too Swedish to be American and too American to be Swedish. Where did I belong?
I switched from defense to offense to better survive. I was made for a soft life, not one where I have to defend to the death my right to be where I am. To participate.
Cut to 2025 and I struggle with my American identity. Whenever a former coworker at my current job walked into the office, he’d ask, “How’s my favorite American?”
I felt a ball of anger inside me each and every time he called me that. Keep in mind that outside of the US, being American is almost never a good thing unless it has to do with music, movies, or streetwear.
It was more than that, though: I was continuously triggered by the concept that I was not Swedish and therefore did not belong. It was middle school in reverse.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Now, this does not mean that you should be a doormat. If something bothers you, make it known and hold others to it. However, there is a big difference between setting a boundary and flipping out disproportionately to what’s happening in the here and now.
Knowing, and acting on, the difference is a strong indicator that you are healing and managing your triggers. It takes time and is not a linear process, but it is so worthwhile.
We can do it.
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I’m based in Stockholm, Sweden.
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