Brittany. One of the most popular girl’s names in 1989: simple and generic. A name that doesn’t evoke thoughts of power, politics or philosophy, but rather images of Britney Spears, Brittany Murphy and that clueless character in Glee. A 5-year-old named Brittany is adorable, but I often question if my name will have the same effect when I’m 90. Doesn’t a great-grandmother named Brittany just seem odd?
But, as Juliet so aptly questioned, “What’s in a name?” My name would not matter so much if I were Brittany the brunette biologist, but my blonde hair and extra-curricular interests haven’t helped me shake the stereotypes my name evokes. Some days I find myself in the library with my pink plaid laptop cover and my pink iPod, listening to upbeat pop music as I peruse celebrity gossip blogs and fashion sites. The kid reading Nietzsche beside me takes in the scene and rolls his eyes.
Add to all of this the “titles” I acquired in high school: homecoming queen, student body president, cheerleading squad captain. Yes, I was “that girl.” However, because I was the proverbial “big fish” in the little pond of Fuquay-Varina, my name, my hair color and my interests did not affect the way people treated me. I was capable, successful and treated just like the other students. When I enrolled at UNC-CH, I was excited finally to be around a student body composed of “those kids” in high school. But, when I arrived on campus, I wasn’t welcomed with open arms by the over-achieving, conquer-the-world, enthusiastic kids I had so often heard about.
No, instead, I was met with disdaining looks from my freshman roommate as I began to turn my corner of the room into a Lilly Pulitzer ad, as she fluffed her dull, white pillows that matched her dull, white bedspread. I was met with chuckles from my English class as I announced that the last novel I read during the summer was Lipstick Jungle. And, when the kids in my sociology class began arguing about how close a 780 and 790 on the Verbal section of the SAT were, I wanted to crawl under the desk and hide, as if my score was in red writing across my forehead.
During my first workshop in English class, a fellow student wrote a comment saying, “Maybe you should put down your childish novels and read a real book. It would help your writing.” Even though attending Carolina was something I had wanted my entire life, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed, out of place and inadequate. When I met new people, greeting them with a smile and my naturally bubbly “Hi, I’m Brittany!” I felt judged by my appearance, my personality and my name.
I spent my first two years of college trying to prove people wrong: those that doubted me or made snap judgments based on first appearances.
However, four years, a hundred hours of challenging courses, and a group of friends that build me up and challenge me to be better, later helped me see that not everyone judges me, and even those who do, their expectations do not define me. I actually find it satisfying when a fellow classmate looks at me with the “hmph, I didn’t expect that from you” face after I contribute to the class discussion.
At some point, everyone must feel inadequate compared to some of the amazing students I’ve met at UNC-CH. The things they’ve accomplished and their capacity for learning astounds me. I didn’t come to college, nor will I leave college, with a skill set that includes Calculus A, B, C or however it’s labeled, a working knowledge of analytical chemistry or a memory stocked with the works of Chaucer, but I know people.
I like people-watching; I like trying to understand why people make the choices they do; I like meeting new people; I like creating plans that will help people; overall, I just enjoy interacting with and studying people. This is probably what drew me to major in journalism, specifically public relations, which is loosely defined as “the art and social science of analyzing trends and implementing programs of action to serve the organization and the public interest.” Social trends, programs and public interest — it’s a perfect fit.
Junior year was for me. I quit focusing on proving people wrong and just wanted to perform well for myself, but it wasn’t until my summer in New York that I made the transition to my current mindset.
This summer I wasn’t sneered at for reading about the latest celebrity happenings, I was praised. I was asked to spend hours on Facebook and Twitter analyzing trends, instead of being lectured about how my interests further oppressed women in today’s society. I worked around people whose desks were decorated with clippings from magazines and printouts of the latest headlines, people who carried pink iPods and had an interest in fashion. No, everyone wasn’t a carbon copy of Elle Woods, prancing around the city making party plans and getting manicures. They had substance, they were well versed in matters of academia, but they didn’t make snap judgments. They gave everyone a fair shot and let his or her work speak for itself.
I, in no way, resent my four years at Carolina or the people who were so quick to judge. This University and the people have given me some of the greatest experiences of my life. I have learned so much about myself, people around me and subjects I knew nothing of prior to college. I learned that everyone has some thing or numerous things they are good at, and that mine just happen to thrive better in a work environment.
Brittany is a guest writer for HC UNC.