On Being Weird

"I used to call myself a tomboy, but now I just call myself a girl," I told Shayne.

She was showing me her new long pants and checkerboard high-top Vans. I showed her my checkerboard Vans socks poking out of my Doc Martens.

 
"I just call myself a girl because girls can dress like butchies, too," I finished. Then added, "But I also wear dresses. Just with these shoes."

Because girls can be whatever and can dress however. Someone said to me the other day, "You like the 90s?" in such a way that suggested she was throwing shade on my fashion choices. My answer was diplomatic, but what I really wanted to say was, "No be jealous cuz I look good, yo."

I dress how I like. I wear what I like. Iʻve described my style as old lady meets skater boy because I like masculine and feminine, comfort and punk, mixing and mismatching basics. Itʻs been fitted tops and baggy jeans, fishnets and shorts and band t-shirts, knee-high socks and penny loafers and mini skirts, pretty pink sun dresses with black 8-eye Docs. My style is as complex and contradictory as my personality. The best is when I can combine both the so-called feminine and masculine in one quirky look because fashion has always been more about self-expression than looking attractive.

Shayne lamented, though, that there werenʻt more "tomboys" in school who look like her. And I can understand. I didnʻt know a lot of girls who looked like me, either. But for years, now, my fourth-grade niece has worn what she wanted, and I couldnʻt be prouder. Because her style is her personality made visible and tangible, sheʻs bravely expressing her inner weird! And she is weird, yo.

I not only like that, I see it as my job to encourage it. To nurture that curiosity, self-expression, and self-acceptance. It is an act of resistance, for sure, but itʻs also fun and liberating to be who you want to be. To be who you are.

Being a weirdo has never really been a problem for me-- Iʻve always kind of embraced it and had fun with it-- even if it was sometimes lonely (and maybe made me feel a little bit crazy) when I thought I was the only one. Itʻs important to me that the kids in my life see that a person-- particularly a woman-- can be a whole range of different and still be "normal." Sheʻs still kind, funny, relatable, honest. My young students are still shocked when I teach a lesson sitting cross-legged in the middle of my desk. Gasp!

Because none of us is one-dimensional, yet often, thatʻs all we see. Itʻs all we show. 

I like to imagine that my weirdness informs all I do. That it helps me to co-create safe spaces where people see the genuine interest I have in them as individuals and can enjoy the warmth of our interactions.