I took a class in college called “Diversity in American Politics” where on the first day the professor asked us to take out a sheet of paper and write down the ways in which we were “diverse.”
The purpose of the exercise was to quickly disassociate the word “diversity” with “race” and see the other ways in which similar people can be classified. For me, one of those characteristics is being left-handed, something a very cursory search says makes me one of about 10 percent of the population.
According to my friend Jackie, another lefty, it also makes us “awesome.” After reading a list the other day of the “Downsides of Being Left-Handed” I sent the link to a few lefties, asking for their thoughts on the article, which things they do with a certain hand and what’s great about being left-handed.
The responses were both interesting and uplifting. I love being left-handed, but bringing out that community only buoyed my pride.
One of the things the article said is that lefties die earlier than righties. But as Jackie points out, that’s because this world is not built for us. She and I went to college together, and in one of the academic buildings, the classrooms have desks attached to the chairs — most designed for right-handed people. She said she always raced to class to claim the ones more comfortable for us, while I remember being lazy and just adapting a slightly awkward, sideways sitting style.
Even in kindergarten we faced the chronic shortage of scissors built for us, leaving myself, roommate MR and my cousin Lauren resigned to cutting with our right hands. Jackie told me she has her own special set of lefty scissors she protects with her life.
And then there’s writing. We can’t effectively use whiteboards without immediately erasing what we just wrote. Spiral notebooks? As Lauren says, we can only utilize about three-fourths of the page since the metal prevents our writing hand from going all the way to the left.
That’s not to mention the indentations the spirals leave. In high school, I started a system of using the notebooks backwards — putting the spiral on the right so that I could write on the whole page. I’m sure it confused the heck out of anyone borrowing my notes, but it worked for me. I was ecstatic when I found the notebook I write in now, which has the spiral at the top.
But buying things like that notebook is another problem. If you’re right-handed, you’ve probably never noticed the placement of the credit card terminals at stores. Take a look next time. I would estimate 98 percent of them are mounted just to the right of some kind of obstacle — no issue for you when it’s time to sign, but for us it’s right back to the spiral problem. We want someplace to put our hand too!
And righties, please be mindful of the way you replace the “pen.”
Lauren said: “Righties always leave it facing their way and it’s awkward to get, especially when you have a purse or a bag of items in your other hand. My solution? Always leave it sticking up in the hole in the middle so that no matter who approaches after you, it’s convenient to grab.”
Eventually these things all add up. It’s like putting a houseplant in the oven and expecting it to live.
I think there’s a general idea that in some sports, like baseball, being left-handed is an advantage, and that certainly can be true. But Lauren also pointed out something I’ve never thought of — lefties who have a tendency to pull the ball as a hitter really do themselves a disservice.
“How can you get a base hit if the ball always goes straight towards the base you’re running to?” she asked.
Despite all of those challenges, we persevere. We find ways to take what the righty world gives us and make our own rules to get by. I never knew before embarking on this post, but Lauren and I use our utensils the exact same way. I remember going out for plenty of family meals during which the adults would try to work out the best place to seat the lefties so our left elbows didn’t smash into the right elbow of our neighbor if we used a knife at the same time. Turns out neither I nor Lauren cut with our left hands anyway.
One thing we’re good at is finding each other. “I do notice that I always catch myself noticing other left handed people,” Jackie said. So true. When I worked in retail, I frequently had quick conversations with people who signed the receipt with their left hand.
But best of all, I think we all share a pride in our diversity.
“There are fewer of us, so I like to think of us as an elite club,” Lauren said. “Growing up, I always thought it made me super cool.”
I’ll let Jackie have the last word, which I think sums up my feelings too: “Left handedness is amazing. I would not change it for the world”
