ENG111: Project #1: Reflective Essay
Individuality: Embracing the True Self
My own individuality has always set me apart from those around me. As such, I was a target for those who followed the narrow road of conformity, even of those groups who didn’t even hangout together: jocks, preps, burnouts, etc. I was at the receiving end of name calling, taunts, and whispers behind my back. I was called ugly, a dog, ’Beetlejuice’ (because I wore my hair similar to the character Lydia from that movie on occasion), as other things I‘ve long since forgotten.
Because I wasn’t like them, I felt like they often thought they were better than I, that I was somehow below them. I knew I wasn’t, but I lost my voice. I became quiet, withdrawn, particularly when faced with people I did not know, or feel I could speak my mind to. Those who took the time to get to know me, and whom I was made to know I could feel comfortable around soon learned I was more than that quiet child in the corner.
From the time I was little, until the beginning of my high school years, I harbored the desire to be such things as a cheerleader, homecoming queen (or even just on the court), a singer, a dancer, or an actress (I was even in our school play my freshman year, though hidden amongst the masses, I would have never had the courage to try for a bigger part). Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t give up certain experiences as such, certain things I had dreamt of or hoped for, by maintaining my individuality. Had I conformed, I might have been welcomed, had them cheering me on for my efforts, instead of being jeered. But I know I wouldn’t have been being true to the person I was inside, and ultimately, no matter how well I may have fit in, I wouldn’t have been happy with myself, or the self that wasn’t truly me.
In school, everyone dressed similar to one another, I always managed to seem to stand out. When the "popular" people caught up in the necessity of labels, or certain fads or trends, I wore cheap jeans, or short skirts, high heels, or boots (occasionally tennis shoes), shirts that didn’t fall in the range of the traditional t-shirts or sweatshirts (tank tops with button up shirts over them, of some other ‘non-typical’ shirt), and on occasion something of my own design, unusual dresses, long flowing skirts.
I remember a week, back in high school, when my friend at the time and I had come up with a sort of "challenge" to myself. Looking back, I have to wonder if perhaps it wasn’t an attempt on her part to try and get me to conform, in order to further her own social standing. I was to forgo my usual wardrobe, and join the masses in their attire. I dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and sweatshirts (borrowed from said friend, as I had none of my own), did my hair in a perfect French braid. I recieved praise from a small group of my peers. Yes, it was good for that brief moment, when the words were first spoken, I was part of the whole, they appeared to like me, I was seemingly accepted. But on the long range scale, this praise meant nothing, did nothing for me. It was words spoken because I was like them, not for anything I had done on my own, not for anything to do with who I was.
I couldn’t even make it the full week, only four days (four long days), because inside those clothes, those trappings my fellow students, I wasn’t me. I felt fake, I wasn’t comfortable, it was like I was wearing someone else’s skin. The best part of the day was when I could go home, and return to my own attire, to be free of that lie. That outweighed, by far, the "praise" I had recieved.
My solitary moments didn’t go unutilized though, while others were seemingly busy with who could come up with the biggest put-downs, or who was the most ‘stylish’, I was busy reading, writing, and drawing. I let my mind wander though worlds outside the normal everyday world, created by talented writers, as well as creating my own worlds, and characters. I put my thoughts, emotions, and energy into poetry and stories, as well as visually as drawings.
My friends, then and now, let me know that I am a worthwhile individual, supporting my unique spirit, and the way I chose to present it, despite what others around us may say or think. In fact, my ability to express who I really was inside, through whatever means is what drew them to me to begin with. In high school some of my friends could have been with these other groups, indeed a couple defected temporarily. What they learned is something I had already known by then; the truest friends are those who accept you who you really are. They saw first hand what I had already witnessed. There were times that I was a "nobody", it was almost like I was invisible, but this taught me a lot about those around me. I could hear what the so-called "popular" kids said about each other behind each others backs. I could hardly believe that someone would say such things about the people they call friend. Friends indeed. It served as another reminder how much better it was to retain who I was inside.
As is true in many cases though, as the years pass, dreams and hopes fade and change, along side the passing of seasons. Thoughts turn to other things, that will matter more in the long run, goals that support you as an individual, a realization that who you are inside, and if you are true to that person, you don’t need false words from people who don’t really know, or understand, who you are. I put up my desire to wave pompoms in the air, and wearing shiny crowns, for laying pen to paper, creating stories that will long outlast the enthusiasm of pep rallies, long forgotten games, and dances of the past.