How’s being unique good?

Society tells us to ‘just be yourself’, but they confine us. Gender roles tell us how a girl should behave, and how a guy should act. Although post-modernism is changing all that, but conformity and tradition still remains.


I want to be normal. I’m not saying that I am unique, or one-of-a-kind-so-hey-you-all-should-get-my-autograph fancy. I’m just… different. And it’s bad.


Girls grow up playing with Barbie dolls, dressing up as princesses, playing with kitchen sets toys (oh god, I dont even know what are those toys called), and then they grow up to become ladies. Elegant, beautiful ladies. They bake, cook, sew, and play with ponies in the sky.


But me? I grew up playing with newts, spiders, snails, caterpillars… I pretented to cut open a small frogs with my cousins just to scare the younger ones. I watch guppies give birth. I breed fighting fishes but unfortunately an epidemic killed them all. I had a lizard pendant hung around my neck till I lost it in the park. I spoon fed a baby Love Bird and watched her grow. I played with guns with my male cousins and pretended that the carpet was a thick forest. I set up stage plays- wrote my own scripts and made my slaves (cousims) act them out for the adults. We even had a ticketing booth. I cried when my pet lobster died. I cried when my hamster got eaten by another evil hamster. I cried when my tortoise died, and hoped that my tear drop would wake up the dead, so I carefully aimed my tear on her shell, and let it fall there. But she didn’t wake up…


Once, I was proud of the things I did during my childhood, but now, I am not. I wished I was normal. The only normal thing I did was pretended I am giving birth to a baby, and teach my stuffed animals how to read and write. Oh, I built my own castle out of pillows too, but I wasnt a princess inside, I was defending the tower…


I wished I was normal, I wished I did normal things too. And now, I am ashamed to say that I am ashamed of my past. Why cant I just play with barbies, for god’s sake? I dont even own one of those dolls… Who am I, really.


Now I grow up to be different. I mean, I look normal, I dress normal. But I’m not, and I’m unhappy. I dont do manicures, I dont own a thousand pairs of shoes, I dont bake or cook, although I’m now trying to learn. I cant even walk on heels, and can trip over them without even wearing them. What a hopeless case of a girl…


I’m ashamed of who I am. I don’t want to be me.


But this post isn’t just about me. It’s about a guy, too. Probably the only one on earth who’d read this post. But this is about him, too.


I don’t scare him off. He’s ok with me keeping frogs and newts as pets. He’s ok if I dont wear dresses. He doesnt like me to wear heels, because they hurt my feet. He dont ask me to put on make up, because he feels that I am beautiful just the way I am. But I look like a toad, and it’s funny because it’s true.


Before I met this guy, I hid behind a facade. I dress up as a boy when I go for filming. I say that wearing like this is more comfortable, but thats not the complete truth. First, the industry doesnt recognise girls as DPs, they think that only guys can be a cinematographer, so, I dress up as a guy. Second, I am hiding. I don’t know who am I. I needed a mask, and being a guy means being brave, insensitive, and strong. And I needed to be all of these. I cannot be the real me, because I don’t like who I am. Perhaps my weirdness is made worse because I am a girl, so I try to become a boy, so that I’d be less weird, and I wouldn’t look down on myself that much. But those are just lies… I’m scared. Scared of who I am, and completely ashamed of it. I needed acceptance.


And this guy came along. He accepted me for who I am, and he told me that he loved me. Now, I dare to wear dresses (in the past, I’d buy dresses, but I dont wear them at all). I dare to tell him about the things I like, and the things I dont. And he doesn’t blame me for that. I cannot understand how anyone can love me for being like this. Maybe this weirdness and differences seem mild to you, but it’s not for me. It’s affecting me. I so want to be a girl, a 100% of a girl, but I can’t.


My friends say I have the looks (haha yeah right who are you kidding) but I lack the elegance, and the girly-girl. They laugh at the things I wear and do. They mean no harm- I truly love my friends and I know they love me too. We tease each other, love to publicise our ugliness to all the friends in the same group, it’s a group thing. And I’m completely fine with that. But that is who I am to them… They accept me, definitely, but that is what they think of me. And that makes me sad. Because that is how the general ‘society’ see me. Not that Im a famous star or whatsoever, but people judge. And this is who I am, to others.


And I don’t like who I am…


Actually, no. I don’t even know who I am…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s