Tag: individuality

So Strange

Text me when you land.

For years, these were the final five words my mother told me before I got on an airplane.

They always annoyed me.

Sure, I knew air travel wasn’t 100% safe. But neither was driving. Or walking down the street. Or even sitting at home.

Inherent risks were everywhere. And yet, the odds were still pretty good that I would arrive safely.

Plus, I was already an adult. I craved autonomy. And I didn’t like the thought of reporting to my parents, even if it just meant texting the word Landed.

Nevertheless, I tended to comply — even when I was embarking on a trip that didn’t involve my parents in any way.

Then, one year, my mother surprised me with a new question.

What’s your flight number? I’ll use it to track you on FlightAware.

I gave her the flight information, and that was that. No more demands for an I’ve landed text message. My mother already knew I’d made it by the time I reached the gate.

I was a curious as I was relieved, so I checked out FlightAware for myself.

Not only did the website have the times of takeoffs and landings, but it also had a boatload of other information. Route maps. Speed charts. Altitude graphs.

Enthralled by all this, I started a new habit.

Once my own flights landed, I would spend some time reliving the journey I’d just taken. It gave me closure to know that the city I saw out the window while en route was indeed Memphis, or that the previous day’s version of the flight had also gotten in late.

I would look at the previous legs the aircraft had flown. Was the plane based out of Dallas, or Charlotte? Did it ferry people domestically, or take up routes to other countries?

In an instant, I’d become a FlightAware addict.

And that was not normal.

You’re such a dork.

A friend used to tell me this regularly, back in college. And it always rankled me.

I had a clear picture of what a dork looked like and how one acted. Kind of like the character Milton Waddams in Office Space. And I didn’t want any part of that.

I wanted to be cool, to be stylish, to be normal. Even though I had enough quirkiness to make such a wish nothing more than a pipe dream.

My friend was simply calling it like it was. And yet, I resented her insinuation.

But now, I’m more comfortable in my own skin.

I recognize that such oddities are part of my ethos. And, in a strange way, part of my appeal. As such, I might as well lean into them.

So, I am unapologetic about my FlightAware obsession. I make no secret of my disdain for the word very. (Take good note of it, dear reader, as you likely won’t see it in this publication again.) And I proudly wear blue jeans and black tennis shoes, even in the sweltering heat of a Southern summer.

It is all so strange. And yet, I’m here for it.

On Wednesdays, we wear pink.

This is perhaps the enduring line from the movie Mean Girls.

Meant to describe the rules of the road of an infamous clique, it speaks to our collective love of normalcy.

When given the opportunity to diversify, we instead seek to consolidate. To find the path of least resistance, and to demand adherence to it.

So many of our societal systems are built upon this principle. School and fashion, just to name a couple.

We make it seem as if there is no alternative to being part of the in crowd. And in the process, individuality is cast aside.

In a vacuum, this might seem like an innocent gripe. But this regression to the mean can have insidious consequences.

As a shy, reclusive child, I continually felt as if there was something wrong with me. I felt the need to change my ways, and to conform to the social expectations that surrounded me.

It took me until adulthood to learn that my introversion was a personality type, and not a flaw. Such a discovery has helped me thrive. But I often wonder what would have happened had I felt the freedom to be myself earlier in life.

I’m sure plenty of others feel the same way as I once did — forced off their mark in the name of normalcy. And I feel for them.

But fortunately, things are moving in the right direction.

There is more of an appetite to celebrate our individuality at all levels these days. The peer pressure and cliques remain. But they’re no longer quite as dominant as they once were.

The challenge is no longer finding the pockets of society that welcome our authentic expression. The challenge is now leaning into it.

Don’t do that. It might invite questions.

This is an adage I’ve heard plenty.

The insinuation is that silence is golden. Questions lead to judgment. And judgment lead us to be cast out into the darkness.

When I recoiled at being labeled a dork, I was following this adage to a T.

I wanted to be normal. And I feared inviting unwanted questions.

But every step of my adult journey has taken me away from this pattern.

There was the move to Texas. The decision to pursue a TV news career, and then pivot to marketing. And the fact that I did all this while remaining single and living on my own.

All of it elicited questions. It still does today.

Yet, over time, I’ve gotten more comfortable at answering these questions.

For there is no shame in sharing the truth. And there are no real adverse consequences to my doing so.

The benefits of staying true to myself far outweigh the risks.

So, I will keep my fashion style intact. I will cling tightly to certain grammatical rules. I will nerd out on FlightAware data.

I will do all this unapologetically. And so should we all.

We can all lean into our uniqueness. Our individuality. Anything and everything that makes us so strange.

We can stay true to ourselves, rather than conforming to society’s dominant narrative.

We will be better for this. And so will the communities we’re a part of.

The only thing stopping us from this reality — is us. Let’s change that.

The Opinion Trap

Who cares what others think?

How often have we heard someone ask a question like this? Plenty of times, probably.

This question is rhetorical. The implied answer is that we shouldn’t take too much stock in what others have to say.

At first glance, this seems like well-intentioned advice.

After all, there are plenty of people out there, each with their own opinions. If we pander to the crowd, we lose a sense of ourselves. Or worse, we become co-opted by the views of others.

Better for us to promote our individuality. Better for us to wave off the background noise. Better for us to have faith in our own abilities.

And indeed, in a vacuum, such single-minded confidence might work.

But we don’t live in a vacuum. We live in the real world.

High school is an uncomfortable time. And yet, it can be an illuminating one.

Our bodies are transforming. Our minds are going through turbulence. And our social status is still being sorted out.

High school is the first time we’re faced with a real decision. Do we roll with the cool kids or linger among the outcasts?

It’s a cruel dilemma to be thrust upon an adolescent mind. For each decision has steep costs.

If we strive to be cool, we abandon our sense of individuality. We become an embodiment of the views and values of others.

But if we embrace our individuality, we find ourselves banished to the shadows. We miss out on many interactions with our peers. We risk the sting of loneliness at a time when we are ill-equipped to weather it.

My own high school days were marked by the tension between these fates.

I had already switched schools three times by the time I was 14, and I was aware of how difficult it could be to make new friends. Becoming a cool kid would appear to be my best path forward.

But many of my classmates were from a different background than I was. Plus they were much more outgoing than I was able to be.

So, I tried to split the difference. I joined the baseball team, and I sat near the popular kids as they held court at lunch. But otherwise, I retreated to my own world.

This approach did little to ease my angst. And although I met one my closest friends during high school, I don’t tend to look fondly on those days.

But perhaps I shouldn’t be so harsh. Maybe I shouldn’t consider the adolescent social status gauntlet as crude.

As it turns out, it’s a great primer for what comes next.

There are many definitions of adulthood. But the one I find most telling is The point at which one is self-sufficient, independent of their parents or guardians.

Yes, adulthood depends on self-sufficiency. And in a capitalist society, that means taking advantage of opportunities to financially sustain ourselves. Landing a steady job, selling enough of a product, or raising sufficient capital are three common ways to get there.

But where do those opportunities come from? They come from other humans.

Whether they’re representing a company or they’re simply consumers, other people are the linchpin to our success. Self-sufficiency is nothing more than a misnomer.

The fate of our future relies on the opinions of others. On their willingness to give us a chance, to provide us financing, to stick with us through thick and thin. This much is unavoidable.

But what of our credo of self-belief? What of our pledge to tune out what others think? How do we reconcile this contradiction?

I call this dilemma The Opinion Trap.

There are two main ways to confront The Opinion Trap. We can lean into it or we can attempt to escape it.

Those who lean in tend to follow the well-worn path. They actively seek the favorable opinions of others — particularly those who will provide them the opportunities they require. This might mean attaining certain educational milestones to stand out to hiring managers or working extra hours to impress their supervisors.

Such work can pay dividends. But it also diminishes the value of these individuals’ beliefs and opinions.

By contrast, some people have sought to escape The Opinion Trap. They’ve broken out from the corporate cycle and set off as entrepreneurs. These nonconformists are steeled by an intense belief in themselves. They’re determined not to let the views of others impact their fate.

And yet, on their way out of Dodge, many budding entrepreneurs are horrified to find The Opinion Trap lurking in their luggage.

Indeed, for their venture to take root, they need funding and a consumer base. And attaining both of those depends on the favorable opinions of others.

The Opinion Trap is insidious. And it is unavoidable.

If I were to pinpoint the moment I became an adult, I’d say it was the day I left my childhood home at age 18. But it wasn’t until I was 25 years old that I was financially self-sufficient.

My parents helped support me in college. And when my first job didn’t pay enough to cover my rent, my parents generously helped with the difference.

I was grateful to my parents for supporting me as I sought my footing in the world. But I also had aspirations of being self-sufficient.

So, when I exited the news media and moved across Texas, I was elated. Finally, I’d be able to sustain myself.

Then, I ran into the rough side of The Opinion Trap.

What I thought would be a two-week job search ended up lasting three months. With media experience all over my resume, I applied for a bevy of media relations and corporate communications positions. I figured this would be the most logical step forward.

But the opinions of the hiring managers filling those roles were unanimous. I was not qualified.

I will admit that these rebukes took me to a dark place. I had always believed in myself, but now I was questioning that faith. Was I really worthless all along, and was this just now coming to light?

Fortunately, I was able to get off this escalator before it hit rock bottom. Someone took a chance and offered me a digital marketing position. I didn’t know a thing about marketing at the time, but I got myself up to speed quickly. I’ve been in that industry ever since.

But even with the success I’ve seen, I’ve never fully recovered from that job search. My bouts with Imposter Syndrome — already prominent during my news media days — have only intensified. And I am continually worried that I will fall out of favor with the key decision-makers in my career.

With all this in mind, I’ve leaned hard into The Opinion Trap. I’ve taken on new responsibilities to stay in the good graces of my superiors. I’ve improved my customer service techniques to earn the trust of my clients. And I’ve gone back to business school to fill any perceived gaps in my marketing training.

These choices have paid dividends. But they leave the fate of my career — and my livelihood — squarely in the hands of others. If I run afoul of them in any way, I could end up out in the cold.

I have to live with that.

One way I do this is by escaping The Opinion Trap in all other aspects of my life. When it comes to my hairstyle, my exercise regimen, or the way I spend my free time, I rely solely on my own opinions. Even Words of the West is a venture where I follow my own nose. (Although the trust you put in me, dear reader, does loom large.)

For me, such a divide is necessary. It allows me to control the way I live my life, even if the way I sustain such a lifestyle relies on the good graces of others. That’s a compromise I can live with.

It’s on all of us to find a version of the middle ground that best suits us. To reconcile the importance of both outside perceptions and our own style. And to reconcile both in a healthy manner.

There is no clear roadmap for this objective. We’ll each need to find our own way forward through trial and error.

It’s daunting. But it’s the only way to keep The Opinion Trap from eating us alive.

So, let’s step to it.