Observing Life: Being left-handed is cool, not sinister

The rhetorical question that is (almost) always asked by anyone who happens to see me wielding a pen: "You're left-handed?" Cue open-mouthed wonder and even nods of silent approval. Whether I'm out on a reporting assignment taking notes, filling out a form at the driving school in Musaffah, or signing a receipt at the supermarket, the hand that I write with seems to be the object of endless fascination. Yes, world, it is clear for all to see that I am indeed a southpaw.

Collecting random facts about being left-handed and then reciting them to anyone with ears has recently become one of my favourite hobbies. Did you know that lefties can see better underwater (I personally can't confirm this because of my decidedly poor eyesight and fear of losing a contact lens in the chlorinated abyss of a swimming pool); are more likely to be geniuses (I can wholeheartedly confirm this); and earn more money (clearly a by-product of being a genius) than their right-handed counterparts? A disproportionately large percentage of artists, musicians and generally all-round awesome people happen to be left-handed, and the list doesn't disappoint: Barack Obama, Oprah Winfrey, Leonardo da Vinci, Gandhi, Einstein, Bill Gates and Jimi Hendrix (to name a few) all belong to this elite club. Armed with facts like these, I like to think of myself as a proud ambassador for the misunderstood left-handed contingent.

But don't be fooled, oh ye of the general (90 per cent right-handed) public; the life of a lefty isn't all cool quirkiness and uber-uniqueness. It comes with its fair share of trials and tribulations. Historically, being left-handed wasn't always a walk in the park. In many cultures it was something that was frowned upon and deemed immoral. Luckily, these days lefties are more likely to be labelled budding prodigies than evil schemers. Also, consider the fact that smug right-handers roam freely in a world that was custom made for them while poor lefties have been forced to adapt to things that shun their dominant hand. It brings me great shame to admit that my own lefty resolve crumbles when I use right-hand scissors with relative ease, and pangs of guilt twitch in my left-hand whenever I use a computer mouse without it.

"Being left-handed is so cool," my friend sighed the other day as she watched me hurriedly scribble down a last minute to-do list. "You're so lucky." Just as I was about to go off on a half-serious tangent about how lefties are marginalised in society, I stopped myself. I couldn't really argue with her; being a part of the unconventional 10 per cent really does feel quite cool.