At some point growing up, I was told that if I wanted to be taken seriously, I had to control my emotions.
Not understand them. Not express them. Control them.
It didn’t sound harsh at the time. If anything, it sounded like advice, something I needed to hear to grow up the “right” way.
But the more I sat with it, the more I realized the message didn’t just apply to emotions. It applied to everything.
The way I reacted. The way I expressed myself. Even the things I chose to like.
I’ve been told not to wear certain things – bracelets, for example – because they make me look “less like who I’m supposed to be.” I’ve heard tote bags aren’t something I should be carrying, like they say something about me that needs explaining. Yet, whenever I go thrift shopping, I bring my beige bag that screams “Marvel” on the side of it.
Not to make a statement. Not to prove a point. Just because I like it. It’s useful, and it looks cool.
Even something as simple as color feels like it comes with rules. Keep it neutral. Keep it serious. Don’t stand out.
But I’ve always liked purple. Maroon. Even bright teal sometimes.
And for a while, I started to question if something as small as color preference could say something bigger about me that needed to be corrected.
But I thought about it more.
Maybe the issue isn’t what I like.
Maybe it’s how narrow the definition is.
There’s this quiet pressure to fit into a version of yourself that often feels edited. Certain traits are accepted, and others must be hidden. If you step outside of that, even a little, it gets labeled. At times, interrogated.
So, sometimes, I conformed. I second-guessed what I liked. I tried to make myself smaller in ways that wouldn’t be noticed – but I noticed. And sometimes, I still catch myself doing it.
That’s part of the process, though.
What I’ve realized is that suppressing parts of yourself doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you quieter.
Real confidence isn’t about fitting perfectly into a person you aren’t. It’s about being secure enough in your body you don’t feel the need to constantly check if you belong in it.
If I’m comfortable with who I am, why should a bracelet change that?
If I know who I am, why should a tote bag raise eyebrows?
If I like certain colors, why should I need approval?
At what point did self-expression start needing permission?
I’m not writing this to reject tradition or to act like expectations don’t exist. They do. But I don’t think they should come at the cost of living a double life.
Because when everything starts to feel like it has to be filtered, you lose yourself without even realizing it. And I don’t want to live like that.
If anything, I want the opposite. I want to be the kind of person who feels things on a different level, who expresses himself without second-guessing, who doesn’t feel the need to change or adjust just to make other people comfortable.
And this is something I’m still figuring out. Unlearning doesn’t happen all at once. It shows up in small choices – in what you wear, in what you allow yourself to feel, in whether or not you second guess it.
Because in the end, being secure in who you are will always matter more than fitting into who you were told to be.
