I am a painfully shy introvert. Actually, that’s not the whole truth. I am an introvert. I live with anxiety. For me that means seemingly basic things like phone calls, small talk, and existing in public in general can be terrifying, impossible feeling tasks. With that, I have also absorbed feeling like I need to hide my true self. I feel like I need to make myself smaller, quieter.
Fear not, dear reader, I will be posting a long blog all about how society treats and lies to women. Today the focus is more on living authentically. And for me, lately living authentically has felt more like living rebelliously.
Back in the day, when I was in grade school I was bullied for the clothes that I wore. I was raised to embrace my unique qualities. To wave my freak flag. And I did. And it was exhausting to be shown socially I wasn’t good enough, that it’s not okay to step out of the expected. And really, my entire life has never looked “normal.” It took until high school to really give up. I switched from acid wash overalls, pleather snakeskin pants, neon purple leg warmers, and a massive selection of peasant skirts to a basic t-shirt and jeans combo. I gave up a huge part of myself and it didn’t even work. I never fit into the “normal” crowd. And that’s okay.
So, to get to the brass tacks. I have been reclaiming my fabulous fashion sense as an act of rebellion against useless social norms. I rock butterfly sunglasses and flared jeans.
For the longest time I was told to be quiet. I was often spoken over and brushed aside. My ideas were never heard, or understood. Let me tell you, reader, unlearning silence has been the most difficult thing I have ever done. Yes, I’m including child birth. The first time I found my voice and held a boundary for the safety of my daughter I couldn’t stop shaking for hours. The level of fear and excitement I felt that day was equal to a day of roller coasters. I used my voice to rebel against the expectation of a silent woman, and I will continue to speak up.
My school hallways were crowded. Simply packed. I learned to shrink. Make myself invisible. If I didn’t do my magic trick, I was knocked around quite a bit. The greatest offenders were the young men, totally unaware that they even hit me every single time. I had two options, get big and get loud or disappear. What sounds easier to you? Before covid, I tested a theory while out shopping. Any time a man was headed in my direction I squared my shoulders and let them knock into me. Now, the interesting thing to me is not that not once did anyone move to avoid bumping me. The interesting thing is half the time, they would turn around and give me a dirty look. I might sound illogical. Let me pose a question. Why should I be expected to move every time? I chose to hold my ground in an act of rebellion and owned my space.
My acts of rebellion may not sound like much. Giving myself permission to express myself, to speak up, and own my personal space have been the most freeing experiences. Sure I get funny looks sometimes and my shoulders are not unfamiliar with bruises. These are small prices to pay for freedom. Please. Be fully yourself, speak up, take up space, be unapologetic.
What do your acts of rebellion look like?
Peace to you,
Willow
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