Most people would probably find my “alternative” style “attention-seeking” or “scary.” That’s why I don’t wear most of my favorite outfits in public. I don’t want others to look at me, and I don’t want to deal with the consequences that might come from my style.
At the same time, though, like most other people, I want to be seen.
When I look at who I am, it’s hard not to see all of the ways that I might not be “normal.” In elementary school, I went to “special” classes that no one else did because I struggled to interact with others. I still remember returning from those lessons and seeing my classmates wonder where I’d been, which made me feel awkward and out of place.
I’ve never fit in, no matter how much I tried, and the bullying that I faced was a constant reminder that I stood out. Although others told me that I should “be myself” so that people would like me, my experience told me otherwise. People who sounded “cool,” wore the latest fashions, and had the “right” interests were liked, and people who failed to meet those standards were hated.
I often feel like I’m “too much.”
I’m cynical and standoffish, I always wear black, and I love horror novels, rock music, and passionate rants about politics or fandoms, which all strike some people the wrong way. I struggle with my self-image because I want to pursue the things that I love, but I don’t want to make people uncomfortable or drive them away and end up alone. But I can’t hide who I am, and I figure that if what I wear reflects who I am, people will know what they’re getting into.
I love the “alternative” style because it embraces a style out of the norm as a different but equally acceptable path. There’s no set of standards to reach, just many diverging paths that you can take if you’d like. The idea that there’s more than one way to be lovable and beautiful appeals to me because of everything I experienced.
Whenever I see someone wearing an alternative look, I feel safe around them.
If they’re wearing a shirt with a snake, a million eyes, a Medusa head, or a skull, then I imagine they’re less likely to think that I’m “too different” or “too much.” Obviously, that’s not always true, and of course, people who wear brightly-colored crop tops or sundresses aren’t always mean and narrow-minded. But people who dress outside of “the norm” make me feel safe because I do the same.
Having an “alt” style feels like an act of reclamation. “Weird” doesn’t have to be a label that others use on me against my will; it’s a word that I lovingly call myself. When I put my “weirdness” on display, I no longer fear sharing who I am. And maybe, if I keep rocking my “alt” style, I’ll find people who appreciate my interests and embrace me unconditionally.
Featured Photo by Alireza Najaf on Unsplash.
