Raised by weirdness
My family are my best friends. They’re the people I laugh with the hardest, argue with the loudest, and turn to first whenever something exciting or heartbreaking happens. We’re weird in every sense of the word, but in my family, weirdness is almost a value system.
The Boone-Tengs–the extension of my immediate family–have an alphabet with a word for each of our quirks, including a page that says, “you are not part of this family if you are not weird.” For us, being weird means being unapologetically loud, opinionated, emotional, and completely ourselves. It means passionately debating insignificant topics at dinner, laughing so hard someone pees on the floor (TMI?), and never feeling pressured to tone ourselves down for anyone else. Growing up in that environment taught me something important: the people you surround yourself with shape the way you see yourself. Because my family embraced individuality so openly, I learned to embrace mine too.
I think a huge part of that comes from the fact that my family is made up almost entirely of creative people. No one in my family is particularly “corporate”. My parents both work in film and television, my grandma is an abstract artist, one uncle is a graphic designer, and another taught orchestra at LaGuardia High School. Creativity was never treated as unrealistic or impractical in my house–it was treated as a necessity. I grew up drawing cartoons with my dad, painting and embroidering with my grandma, singing with my mom, and learning guitar with my uncles. Looking back, those moments were about much more than hobbies. They showed me what it looks like to pursue things wholeheartedly and without embarrassment. Being raised by people who create things simply because they love to create has influenced almost every part of who I am.
What I appreciate most about my family is how supportive they are of every version of me. Whether I’m interested in astrophysics one month or sewing unnecessary amounts of embellished bag charms the next, they treat every passion like it matters. They celebrate my interests before I even fully believe in them myself. That kind of support changes a person. It makes failure feel less terrifying because you know your worth is not dependent on being perfect or successful. In my opinion, having people who genuinely encourage you to explore who you are is one of the greatest privileges someone can have. My family makes me feel like anything I care about is worth caring about deeply.
Of course, my family is not perfect. My parents divorced when I was four, and as I got older, splitting my life between two homes became increasingly difficult to understand. For a while, “weird” stopped feeling funny and started feeling complicated. But even through that, my family never stopped loving each other fiercely. Our “modern family,” as we call ourselves, learned how to adapt without losing the closeness that defines us. I’ve watched love change shape over time, but I’ve also learned that change does not necessarily mean loss. If anything, my family has taught me that love is strongest when it is flexible enough to evolve.
That is what stands out to me most about my family. Beyond being weird, creative, or unconventional, they are people who love to love. They are the reason I feel comfortable being myself, and the reason I’ve learned to value authenticity in other people too. To call them my family is already an honor, but to love them and be loved by them is a blessing I will never take for granted.
