The various children’s shows I’d watch loved to hammer in the same mantra: “Be Yourself!”For a glorious, fleeting moment, I tried to live by it. I needed to be me, unapologetically. I needed to resist any forces that would tell me that I needed to fit into a neat little box. In the same breath, the media I’d consume during my most impressionable years would mock anyone who dared to be different.
Media exists as a reflection of our reality. To gain or maintain social capital, we need to follow certain norms, while also dodging social constructs. Make THAT make sense! We’ve practically crafted a meritocracy, where our worth is dependent on our ability to blend in. Even in the coming-of-age stories we’ve all seen, they preach about self-expression, but still, being different is scary. Being weird is unwelcome. Go figure!
So yes, cue my cognitive dissonance. Should I try to stand out? Or do I craft the perfect persona and be as socially–acceptable as possible? I wish I could say I leaned into my boldness, but if I don’t maintain social capital, wouldn’t it be over for me? I needed to be palatable, which apparently meant conforming to a strict and rigid style code.
I had to avoid wearing colours and patterns that didn’t go well together. Makeup experiments were fun at first, until I realized the world is just not ready for extravagant art on the upper eyelid on a casual Tuesday. I did find some enjoyment from painting my nails, but often, it still felt like I chose the wrong colour. It’s no longer the season for red, that’s reserved solely for the holidays. Yet, I made the mistake of painting them like that. It’s not even my favourite, but it looks better on my skin than purple. When does it get to a point where I finally stop doing what I think I should do, and actually do what I WANT to do?
Then came clothing. Hours spent in front of my closet, modelling an outfit that I carefully curated, only for it to hug my body in all the wrong ways. Or ways I believe it is wrong. Clothing I bought, marketed under an aesthetic; another short-lived microtrend on TikTok that suddenly felt meaningless. Then I realize, I own nothing objectively cute. Nothing that I’d want to be perceived in. Nothing I’d want immortalized on any of my social media platforms. Of course, to continue to be “palatable,” I archived posts and deleted special moments just to prove something to other people. It was suffocating!
I realized, embarrassingly recently, that I was an actor under an invisible spotlight, constantly looking for ways to compensate for my inherent “deviance”, something I subconsciously understood. I have heard time and time again, to not care what others think about me because everyone is too wrapped up in themselves to notice. I just didn’t realize that I was complicit. My mindset was the exact reason for the existence of the hypocritical media that preaches the importance of “being you.” I had fallen into the box, immersed in my need to fit in.
I want to unlearn this.To be able to live, be present, and be myself. To be able to face my mirror and look into it and be satisfied with the reflection looking back at me. That, however, requires undoing years of conditioning. Still, I have made it a goal of mine this year—contradictory to all of my resolutions for self-reinvention—to stop fearing how I’m perceived. I can’t entirely exit my box but I can decide to colour outside the lines that have restricted my full potential for so long. I want to bring back coloured eyeliner to wear to my Wednesday lecture, because why not? To use my own social media more freely, and post what makes me feel good, rather than curate an aesthetic. I intend to venture outside of this box as much as I can, and I think you should too!