The other day I almost missed the train. I was embarrassed to run to catch it, so instead I made the far less embarrassing choice to hop, wobble, and speed walk (all at the same time) in an attempt to pass the turnstile before the doors closed. Miraculously, I passed the turnstile. But unfortunately, I did not make it past the doors themselves before they closed, and I think I might now have a Beats shaped indent on the side of my head where the doors squished my headphones and face together….
What followed as I sat down were lines of inner-semi-self-centered-dialogue that I’m sure we are all too familiar with: everyone just saw that, and they are all silently laughing at me in their heads right now, that was so embarrassing, I need to get off of this train at the next stop, someone probably filmed that… and they’re going to post it… and they’re going to troll me and I am going to go down in history forever as the girl who got her head crushed between the train doors, etc.
And then I looked up to see everyone looking at me, pointing, and laughing — just kidding. Of course, no one was paying attention at all, and the train car looked no different than any other train car I had ever ridden; no different than the train cars I had stepped into ever-so gracefully, with no sign of struggle between me and those unforgiving, sliding doors. It was honestly humbling to realize that nobody cared as much as I did.
But the truth is, no one cares at all: about you, about your friends, about your Instagram post, or about the embarrassing time that you got crushed between the doors of the train. No one cares about the minuscule, fleeting moments of your life as much as they care about the minuscule, fleeting moments of their own. Maybe the realization that no one is truly paying attention is in some way disappointing, and in that case, maybe we all need to do some introspection. But I think that this realization should feel freeing, if anything. It means that the world is meant to be lived in; it is not meant to be a place solely for observing or to be observed.
Sitting on the train, soaking up the embarrassment, I thought that more than anything else, the two seconds that I had been stuck between those train doors were funny. If someone actually had been paying attention and did laugh at me in their head, at least I had made them laugh. It was never serious, and nothing in life is ever as serious as we make it out to be; especially not the way that we are perceived by people we will never, ever see again.
This leads me to a fuller, deeper question and point that goes beyond feeling unaffected by others’ perceptions of us in our most embarrassing moments: what happened to being authentically weird and authentically corny? We’ve become so accustomed to a life dictated by social media and social surveillance that we have stripped ourselves of the unique things that make us different because we fear being truly seen and perceived. There is a sensitive bubble that surrounds the concept of individuality as it applies to perception, and especially as it relates to social media — a fine line between “quirky” and “cringe”.
It’s deemed “cool” for a woman to be weird, but only as weird as it aligns with the current niche trends. Her weirdness only works if she is weird and conventionally attractive, because if she is weird and considered “ugly” then she’s actually just a freak. We love to praise the weirdos as long as they are the type of weird we want them to be — as long as their weirdness and their look fits into our current perceived acceptable level of weirdness. All others we condemn for stepping outside the box that is already “outside of the box.”
But in reality, everyone is weird, and the people that are proudly and authentically weird are far better off (and endlessly cooler) than the people criticizing others for embracing their weirdness. Whether your type of weird is trendy, makes you seem sexy and quirky, or makes you a social outcast, we’re all weird: you, me, and the thousands of other girls who have probably been smushed between train doors before. Wear your weirdness proudly on your sleeve!
Life is fun because we are all different in our own silly little ways. Corny people are the coolest people, and they make the world go round. To me, the more we care about what other people think, the less we are in control of our own lives, and the less we will enjoy life as a result. Think about the weirdest person you have ever seen or met and ask yourself (assuming that the person wasn’t harming or making anyone uncomfortable) how much did their individuality actually affect you and the way that you live your life? Hopefully, your answer is “very little,” and if anything, maybe they made you laugh, or were even inspiring in some way.
So please, I beg! Let your weirdness see the light of day! She deserves to be free. Free yourself of social media’s expectations of normalcy and “preferred, trendy weirdness” because none of it actually matters, and none of it is actually real. This is all easier said than done, I know, but in the same way that no one cares about your most embarrassing moment, no one really cares about your weirdness. And if they do care that much about you and your individuality, that makes them weird… and not in the good way.
Take it upon yourself to embrace and praise your corniness, your derp, your inner-oddball, and your authentic self. Because, who cares?