It is okay to be an outsider, a recent arrival, new on the scene

Hear the words of Tan Le, a voice shaped by migration, struggle, and vision: “It is okay to be an outsider, a recent arrival, new on the scene—and not just okay, but something to be thankful for... Because being an insider can so easily mean collapsing the horizons, can so easily mean accepting the presumptions of your province.” In these words lies a teaching not only for immigrants and wanderers, but for all who have ever felt apart from the crowd. She proclaims that to stand outside is not a curse, but a blessing; not a weakness, but a hidden strength.

The first jewel in her saying is the acceptance of being an outsider. The world often teaches us to fear this place, to shrink from it, to yearn for inclusion. Yet Tan Le declares the opposite: that being new, foreign, or different is something to embrace. For in standing outside, one sees what those within cannot. The outsider looks upon the customs of the tribe with fresh eyes, unburdened by the chains of habit, and in this distance lies clarity, creativity, and freedom.

The second flame is her call to thankfulness. She does not merely say, “It is okay to be different.” She says, “It is something to be thankful for.” Gratitude transforms exile into opportunity, separation into vision. To be thankful for being outside is to recognize that the margins are often where new horizons are discovered. The prophets of old, the inventors of new worlds, the reformers of nations—all stood outside the comfort of the crowd, and in their distance, they glimpsed truths unseen.

The third truth in her words is the warning against the comfort of being an insider. She says it can “collapse the horizons,” narrowing the vision until one can no longer see beyond the walls of one’s province. To be too comfortable, too accepted, is to risk blindness—to accept what is ordinary as ultimate, to mistake tradition for truth. The insider often forgets to question, for he swims in the waters of his own culture without ever realizing they are there. But the outsider, standing at the edge, can see the river and the shore alike.

History bears witness to this wisdom. Consider the tale of Albert Einstein, who was often seen as an outsider—born in Germany, struggling in school, rejected for academic posts, and working as a lowly clerk when he conceived ideas that reshaped physics forever. It was his outsider’s perspective, unbound by the presumptions of his “province,” that allowed him to see what others had missed. He was thankful, in his own way, for being apart, for it freed his vision to pierce the heavens.

The lesson for us is clear: do not despise your position on the outside. Whether you are new to a place, different from those around you, or misunderstood, remember that in your distance lies power. To be an outsider is to see beyond horizons, to ask the questions the comfortable do not ask, to challenge the limits that others accept. Cultivate gratitude for your difference, and let it sharpen your vision rather than embitter your heart.

Practically, embrace your place of difference. Write down the unique insights your “outsider” eyes perceive. Do not rush too quickly to blend in, for in blending you may lose the very clarity that is your gift. Be humble enough to listen, but bold enough to question. And when you are tempted to see your difference as weakness, remember Tan Le’s wisdom: it is not only okay, it is something to be thankful for.

Thus, her words stand as a guide for all generations: to be an outsider is a blessing, to be thankful for it is wisdom, and to use that perspective to expand horizons is greatness. For it is from the margins that new visions are born, and from the edges that the world is renewed.