raescoolblog

[raescoolblog]

it's really not that serious

From kindergarten to eighth grade, I went to a gifted and talented school. I would take the train twenty minutes for a school that could never really appreciate me for all that I was — or am. I will never forget my first day back after quarantine ended. I had grown my hair out, gotten bangs and bleached edges, and felt like the coolest kid in the class.

I put on my heeled doc martens, my black pleated ‘skater girl’ skirt, and my dad's oversized t-shirt, and paired it with eyeliner that went so far around my head it almost touched my hairline. I expected my peers to greet me the same way I felt, like I was the best-dressed person out there. Yet, when I got to school, I was laughed at for being the ‘emo girl’. 

Being one of the only black girls in my grade was already hard enough — I was not about to make it any harder for the sake of a black skirt. So, my style changed to crop tops, baggy jeans, and oversized hoodies. Still out there for my school, but quieter. 

I’m now a junior in high school, and I can count on one hand the number of people I talk to from that school on a daily basis. The people I do talk to are the ones who never said a thing about my style. The ones who still support me when I make questionable fashion choices — and stay if I regret them. 

While my style never really went back, when I look back on it all I think about is how free I felt dressing like that. I still own the black skirt, and every time I look at it I wonder what I could’ve been if I had just worn it one more time. It’s the same part of me that smiles whenever I put on my Doc Martens and the same part that tells me to buy things like pink tights and Trash and Vaudeville jeans. That voice is free will, and I’m learning to lean into it.

We all remember the freedom of not caring. The childhood wonder of asking a question, swinging around on the subway poles, standing on chairs, and eating with your hands. Sure, afterwards we might have been laughed at, lectured, yelled at, put in time out, etc., but in the moment we were just being. 

Then, at some point, we did. We probably don’t even remember the moment we started hesitating or didn’t even realize we started until it was too late. until you’re a teenager holding yourself back, wishing you could go without overthinking. Somewhere along the way, we stopped choosing what was right for us and started choosing what felt safe. After 17 years of living, I can already envision myself regretting the choices I never made. I catch myself wondering about the what ifs, the what could bes, and what should bes. All the stories I never let myself live.

Recognizing that is just the start. Once you see the way fear has grasped onto you, you can learn how to shake it. You gain the ability to ask yourself new questions: What if I stopped hesitating? What if I let myself just…go? Even if it’s messy, even if it’s too much, even if it’s ‘embarassing’. There’s a satisfaction in the freedom we once had, and that doesn’t have to just be an aspect of childhood. We can carry it with us. We can put on fishnets, chokers, black skirts, what ever we want! We can be the girl in all black, the one in Lululemon, the one in baggy jeans — as long as it’s you.

Even if there’s regret after, even if there’s an ‘I shouldn’t have done that, ’ so what? The good news is that tomorrow will always come, and you don’t have to do the same thing twice. You just have to start making choices for you again. The worst thing life can leave you with is a ‘what if’.