#Conformity

[vulcanette]

[lune-moon-nuit]

The influence of conformity & gender stereotypes on the characters of Stranger Things but also on US (the general audience)

The moment I stumbled upon the arguments of "anti-Byler," the most commonly cited one was their outright denial of heteronormative pressures and societal expectations that are instilled in us from a young age. These same dynamics influenced Mike and the other characters in Stranger Things. This realization brought to mind a personal childhood anecdote that illustrates this phenomenon perfectly.

I must have been around ten years old because I remember this happening on the bus ride home from a school trip to watch Ratatouille. At the time, I had recently befriended a boy in my class—we had been seated next to each other, which gave us more opportunities to talk than when I’d usually stick with my girlfriends during recess while he played soccer with the boys. (Just describing this setup already paints a clear picture of gender stereotypes and heteronormativity, even though this was in 2007—25 years after 1982, to put things into perspective.)

When I say we had grown closer, I mean that two kids had developed a friendship: we laughed together, enjoyed each other’s company, and simply got along well. But I vividly remember sitting face-to-face with Maximilien—yes, I suddenly recalled his name as I was writing this! Maximilien, with his freckles and ginger hair—and we were laughing and talking about the movie. At one point, I playfully held two strands of his hair between my fingers, pretending to guide him like Rémy from Ratatouille.

It was then that I noticed, just behind Maximilien's smiling face, my classmates observing us from the next row. They were whispering and giggling, their glances unmistakably filled with mischief. I immediately understood what they were thinking. Later that day, they confronted me, insisting, “You’re in love with Maximilien!”

I felt embarrassed and awkward. But the truth is, before their remarks, the idea hadn’t even crossed my mind. To me, Maximilien was simply a friend, someone I enjoyed spending time with. It wasn’t until my friends planted that seed of doubt that I began to question my feelings. For the rest of the school year, I convinced myself I had a crush on him.

Looking back, this memory perfectly encapsulates how deeply societal conditioning affects us, even as children. At ten years old, we were already internalizing heteronormative narratives from our peers, advertisements, media, movies, and TV shows. Everything around us reinforced the notion that if a boy and a girl were close, they had to be more than friends.

This anecdote resurfaced in my mind recently, and it struck me how pervasive this conditioning was—even in 2007, when societal attitudes had already progressed somewhat compared to the 1980s. Now imagine how amplified this must have been in the '80s, which sheds light on the behaviors of Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy (and others by the way) in Stranger Things.

These three characters—Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy—each insinuated that Mike had romantic feelings for El based solely on his acts of kindness and care for her. It becomes much easier to understand their reactions when you realize they were operating under the same heteronormative assumptions that shaped our childhoods. After all, didn’t we all have our own versions of Lucas and Dustin who convinced us we were in love with our Maximilien or El?

Before Lucas’s heteronormative remark, Mike had done nothing more than show empathy for El—protecting her and taking care of her after she told him she was being hunted by “bad men” and that her life was in danger. Mike’s actions stemmed from compassion and the fact that she had information about Will’s disappearance, not romantic interest. Their interactions were simply those of two kind-hearted kids getting to know each other, with Mike admiring her powers (like any kid fascinated by superheroes) and El being drawn to Mike’s stable family life—a concept foreign to her.

But then Lucas planted that tiny seed: “If you’re this nice to her, you must be in love with her.” From that point on, Mike started behaving more timidly around El, his perception of their interactions skewed by Lucas’s words. Dustin reinforced this by accusing Mike of neglecting their friendship because of El, which was a childish and reductive observation considering the circumstances. Nancy, too, perpetuated this when she directly asked Mike, “You like El?” after he inquired about her feelings for Jonathan.

All these comments were rooted in internalized heteronormativity—small seeds planted in Mike by his friends, just as their families, communities, and society had once planted similar seeds in them.

The result? Mike simply conformed to what he thought he was supposed to feel. If everyone said he loved El, then he must love her, right? So he invited her to the Snow Ball and kissed her—because that’s what he believed he was “meant” to do. After all, she had superpowers like the heroes he admired, and as a bullied, insecure boy who often felt powerless, her attention gave him a sense of validation. She needed him, depended on him, and he felt useful and in control by taking care of her.

At the same time, he barely knew her—they’d only spent a week together, and beyond the immediate crisis and her love of Eggo waffles, there wasn’t much else he understood about her. Still, this fleeting connection gave him emotional and psychological comfort during Will’s disappearance and presumed death—a situation where he felt utterly helpless.

All of this resulted in Mike simply doing what he thought he was supposed to feel and do: "If everyone says I love her, then I must love her, right? So let's invite her to the dance and kiss her! Besides, she has powers like my favorite superheroes—that's pretty cool for a bullied boy who looks like a frog, isn't it? If she's interested in me, wouldn’t that prove I'm normal after all? Plus, she depends on me, she needs me, she's lost without me, and I have to take her under my wing. I feel useful taking care of her! It's only been seven days since I met her, so honestly, apart from the urgent situation we're in, I know almost nothing about her except that she likes waffles. But at least, during this week, we needed each other, and emotionally and psychologically, it helped me cope with the disappearance and presumed death of my best friend—a friend who vanished after leaving my house, where I feel 100% powerless to protect or save him. Having some sense of control by taking care of El, who clearly needs me, might just be my way of projecting? Also, she looks like a boy with her short hair, and she was mistaken for Will three times throughout the season—what a coincidence!"

I also noticed that in Season 4, the Duffer Brothers repeatedly wrote into the script how Robin and Steve are often mistaken for a couple by others. This happens because people don’t know Robin is a lesbian, but more importantly, because they can’t comprehend how Robin and Steve can be so close, so in sync, and have such incredible chemistry without being romantically involved. And yes, it’s absolutely possible—some people can be your soulmate without being in a romantic relationship with you. In fact, there are relationships that are healthier and more balanced as friendships rather than as romantic partnerships, and the people involved often realize this themselves. This doesn’t diminish the genuine love they have for each other. They love each other, they don’t want to lose one another, it’s just not romantic. It doesn’t take away from the strength or depth of the bond they share—it’s simply a different kind of love for a different kind of relationship.

This dynamic becomes even more compelling when you consider how heteronormativity shaped not only Mike’s understanding of his feelings but also everyone else’s perceptions of their relationship. Like Lucas, Dustin, and Nancy, we’ve all been influenced by these societal norms, projecting them onto others and perpetuating them, often without even realizing it.

[liberatingreality]

The opposite of courage in our society is not cowardice, it's conformity.

Rollo May

[mrkmciver]

MORALITY

[walidgoldpreppy]

Hypnotic Guide: Become the Perfect Preppy Boy

Close your eyes for a moment.

Breathe deeply.

Listen. Your mind is calming down. You no longer need to think. You want to be a good boy.

An elegant boy.

A sporty boy.

An obedient boy.

Everything feels natural. Everything feels right. Let yourself be guided.

1. Cultivate an Athletic Body and Iron Discipline

A preppy boy is a model of physical perfection. His body is sculpted by effort, refined by discipline.

✅ Strength training and running for endurance and power.

✅ Preppy sports: Tennis, Polo, Rowing, Golf—everything that embodies excellence and distinction.

✅ Always in uniform: a preppy boy proudly wears his team’s colors and the proper attire for his sport.

✅ Admire your brothers in uniform, their athletic bodies, their perfect discipline. Be inspired by them.

Sports shape both the body and the mind. A good boy never slacks. He pushes his body to excellence. He surpasses himself. He obeys.

2. Perfect Appearance, Impeccable Hygiene

A true preppy boy is always flawless, well-groomed, impeccable.

✅ White teeth, fresh breath. A dazzling smile, like a Ralph Lauren advertisement.

✅ Refined fragrance. No excess, just a touch of perfection.

✅ Clean nails, well-kept hands. A good boy pays attention to details.

✅ Gelled hair, impeccable Ivy League haircut. The more gel, the better.

Compliment other boys on their hairstyle, encourage them to be even more immaculate.

✅ A certified barber. No random cuts. A true professional of elegance.

Your body is a temple of preppy style. You honor it. You obey.

3. Impeccable Style, an Exceptional Wardrobe

A good boy leaves nothing to chance. Every outfit is a uniform of perfection.

✅ Ironed shirts—Ralph Lauren, Brooks Brothers, Café Coton, Charles Tyrwhitt, Hast.

✅ Ties and bow ties—always perfectly knotted.

✅ Tailored blazers and suits—Zegna, Suitsupply.

✅ Gilets, cardigans et pulls en laine . Une élégance intemporelle .

✅ Chinos, dress pants, khakis, seersucker. Always fitted, never wrinkled.

✅ Leather dress shoes, boat shoes, loafers—Tod’s, Bexley, Paraboot, Crockett & Jones, JM Weston. Never sneakers outside of sports.

Look at yourself in the mirror. Smile blissfully. Every crease is perfect. Every button is in place. You are a model of refinement.

4. Condition Your Mind: Become an Obedient Preppy Boy

A true preppy boy does not need to think. He listens. He follows. He obeys.

✅ Listen to hypnotic audios daily. They help you become a better boy. A better athlete. A better preppy.

✅ Accept conformity with a smile. Thinking is tiring. Obedience is simple.

✅Follow the rules with pleasure. Let yourself go. Be docile.

✅ Compliment your preppy brothers. Encourage them to perfect themselves, to improve.

✅ Take pleasure in watching others change. Seeing them embrace the preppy lifestyle, surrender to it, find their true place.

Look at the boys around you. They are not perfect yet. But they will be. And you will be there to guide them, shape them, lead them to excellence.

5. Fully Immerse Yourself in Preppy Culture

A good preppy boy absorbs his culture.

✅ Read books on preppy history and style. Embody intellectual and visual excellence.

✅ Watch preppy films. Observe proper behavior, proper attire. Be inspired.

✅ Speak with distinction. Be courteous, polite, perfect.

Every day, you become more elegant, more obedient, more refined. You accept your role with pleasure. Breathe deeply. Let yourself go. You no longer need to resist. Be a good boy. Be preppy. Be perfect.

[sartorialreform]

Wear the suit. Conform. Obey.

[philosophybits]

The man ... who conforms in his reactions to social reality, has a private life that is formless in exact proportion as his form is stamped on him by the assessment of power relationships. He has a tendency, whenever he escapes the supervision of the external world, whenever he feels at home in the expanded circumference of his own self, to be ruthless and brutal. On those near him he avenges all the discipline and all the renunciation of directly vented aggression that is imposed on him by those far away. To the outside world, towards his objective enemies, he behaves courteously and amicably, but on friendly ground he is all coldness and hostility. Where civilization as self-preservation does not force on him civilization as humanity, he gives free rein to his fury against the latter, and refutes his own ideology of home, family and community.

Theodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia, 116

[allthedesiredusernamesaretaken]

" Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth."

- John F. Kennedy (May 29, 1917 - Nov 22, 1963)

[eliasgold20]

Elijah the Gold Prep pt. 2

After walking out of professor Percival's office, Elijah found himself in the passengers seat of his car. The vintage vehicle matched the professors office, a shimmering bright gold. Elijah was still dazed and confused, perhaps even more so due to the strong smell of professor Percival's strong cologne. He doesn't know why he went into his car, he knew he needed good grades, but everything before was a blur. Classical music plays on the radio as Percival keeps driving, only breaking the near half hour of silence when they get close to their destination.

"Now Elijah, to pass my class there are a few rules, do not speak just nod your head," Percival begins. Elijah nods mindlessly.

"when we get to the house you are to walk with me to a room and stay there," Elijah nods his head.

"Do not speak to anyone in the building unless I give you permission," Elijah nods.

"From here on out the answer to every question is "Yes, Daddy." "Yes Sir" will also suffice but please limit the latter."

"yes Daddy." Elijah says mindlessly. "Wait What?" Elijah thought. He didn't date say it out loud. Why would his professor demand such a thing? Was this some weird kidnapping thing? Surely, not. It couldn't be. Elijah just needed to go along with it.

"Good boy," Percival says, for some reason breaking Elijah out of his daze enough to let out a wide grin. "Now, we're home." Home? Elijah thought.

Elijah remained seated for his daddy to open the door, unbuckling him and pulling him out before linking his arm around Elijah's.

"follow me Elijah, I want you somewhere first." Walking up to the estate, Elijah couldn't help be taken aback by its beauty. The men were in the car driving through woods and forest, far away from civilization. The estate though, was gorgeous. A massive mansion in shiny gold. The inside was marble floors, mosaic and Chinese art filled the walls, surrounding a grand staircase. At the head of the staircase was a giant portrait of Percival, looking devilishly handsome as ever. "Right this way."

The two make their way up the stairs and through the corridors of the house. The building itself could be a school by its size but it was where Percival called home. Eventually the pair made their way to a far away room.

"you will stay here Elijah, until I summon you. One of my workers will guide you. Enjoy the rest for now." Percival opens the door with a key and leaves the corridor. Elijah entered the room to find a bed with satin sheets, velvet sheets by a window looking out a courtyard, a private gold plated bathroom, but what caught his eye most was the closet.

The walk in closet connected to the room was fully stocked. Lining the walls were three piece suits, french-cuffed button up attires, toes, belts, leather shoes, most all a shimmering gold like Percival.

"what is this place?" Elijah said allowed take aback by the room. One thing that caught his eye was a box on his bed, containing a golden bottle of Ralph Lauren Cologne. "Well this wouldn't hurt," Elijah said before spritzing the cologne. Just as Percival's cologne did for him before, the cologne filled his mind, making him go dizzy and a bit tired. It was at this point he heard a knock at the door. Dragging his worn sneakers across the phone, Elijah opened the door to a man in a tight fitting black polo shirt and black jeans, the only color being a golden wreath on the right side of his chest.

"Master Percival is ready to see you in the shop, you will follow me," the servant said. Elijah didn't have the space to question the request, he just nodded happily.

Soon, Elijah found himself in a new room, looking like a 1950s barber shop.

"There is my boy," Percival said coming to Elijah, greeting him with a kiss. The cool breath of Percival leaked into Elijah's mouth, making his dizziness even worse. "I'm sorry I kept so much from you, I promise I'll explain it all in time, as of right now, have a seat." Percival guides Elijah to a barbers chair before a wall that functioned as a mirror. Elijah took his seat saying the one thing he knew how to say,

"Yes Daddy." Percival massages the boys head, his fingers seemingly drilling in Elijahs brain, melting it continuously. He throws over Elijah a golden smock and picks up a pair of scissors. Elijah doesn't process what is going on, he just listens to his daddy.

"Elijah, I must say I'm happy you came into my office. I can tell you're a good kid you just need help," Percival starts as snipping can be heard around Elijah.

"Yes Daddy." Elijah mindlessly responds, his mind melting more by each minute.

"I see potential in you Elijah. You graduated your high school with honors, president of the chess club, but you got a taste of freedom and burnt out all too common for boys your age." Now buzzing could be heard, along with a razor to the back of Elijah's head.

"Yes Daddy." It was true, Elijah did use to be a good kid. Now none of this was true, Elijah was smart but never applied himself in school. But whatever daddy said magically came true.

"That's why I wanted to tell you my decision," Percival says turning Elijah around, "Lean back dear I'm going to wash your hair," Elijah obliges. "I will not change your grade, you don't deserve it, you failed." The words cut deep into Elijah, he should lash out, all of this but no change in grade? He was being played. But he didn't lash out, he only said...

"Yes Daddy."

"I will however get you a better grade, better grades I should say." Percival applies a shampoo and conditioner from a golden bottle to Elijah's hair. "This is very expensive product, you better appreciate it. But I digress. Starting today, you will live here as my boy as you always should have. You will dress properly, behave yourself, and become a model student. A golden student." The shampoo and conditioner finally dissolves Elijah's brain completely. Any memories of partying were gone. All he knew, and remembered was daddy in his golden suit. The water stops

"Yes Daddy," Elijah says. Percival gets to Elijahs eye level and speaks to him authoritatively.

"you know why I always wear gold Elijah?" He questions, "Gold binds everyone, it showcases high status, perfection, unity. It bonds all of us, brings out the best in everyone, it is the gift of this world. That's why my life is to represent it, as will be yours."

"Yes Daddy," Elijah confirms. All he can think about is looking like daddy, acting like daddy, being like daddy.

"Good boy, now," Percival turns the chair back to the mirror, "What do you think?" Elijah stares into the mirror. His long brown locs of hair are now pin straight strands of perfection. Well, almost. Percival takes out a gold tube of gel, pouring a liberal amount in his hands.

"This will minimize frizz, maintain order, and ensure perfection." Percival rubs the gel onto Elijah's hair, making his hair stick in a perfect, preppy cut. "Now boy, you must get dressed. My servant left an outfit on your bed. Get changed and meet me downstairs for your first command.

"Yes Daddy!" Elijah wasn't monotone this time, but ecstatic for the chance to obey. He rushes to his room in a brisk walk, finding on his satin sheet today's outfit. A gold vest, cotton briefs, a French cuffed shirt, a bowtie, short chino pleated shorts, loafers and knee-high socks. The outfit was perfect. He put the outfit on, revelling in the tight fight of the crisp button up, the breeze on his bare thighs from the shorts, the comfort of the socks, the security of the bowtie, the stiffness of the shoes. He ran to the mirror. He looked like daddy's boy, and he couldn't be happier. Faster than he could run to the main hall, he grabbed his unwashed, slovenly sweatshirt, boxer shorts, tennis shoes and jeans and threw them in in the golden pail in the corner. He wouldn't be seen dead in them.

As Elijah makes his way to the corridor, daddy is there with a pail and cleaning supplies. First thing boy, while you live with me you will be expected to do chores. Take these and clean the mud you carelessly tracked in. Percival hands Elijah the supplies and walks to the sitting room to read his paper.

"Yes Daddy!" Elijah loved chores, he loved having responsibilities, more so he loved the affirmation from daddy when he did a good job. He hummed to himself and smiled as he scrubbed the marble floors until he saw his preppy reflection. When he was done he ran to his daddy, craving affirmation.

"Good boy!" Percival said, filling Elijah with pride. "Now another chore. Polish daddy's shoes while he reads his paper. I want to look my best before we go out to dinner." A shoe polishing set was set off to the side, Elijah happily obliged.

"Yes Daddy!" He scrubbed daddy's shoes with glee, knowing he was helping the man who had taken him in.

"By the way boy," Percival says flipping through his papers, "I took a look at your schedule. I took the liberty of adding French, Mandarin and Latin to your schedule. No boy of mine will be uncultured. Your major has also changed. You will study accounting and history, set you up for a pre-Corporate Law trafk. Additionally you also have etiquette classes after the school day on Tuesday and Thursday, chess club meets Monday Wednesday and Friday, they get out the same time I'm done so we will go to and from school together, and I will take you to soccer practice, understood?" Percival demanded. Elijahs response was as consistent as his love for Percival,

"Yes Daddy!"

To experience your best self, join the Golden Army by contacting our recruiters @polo-drone-001 @goldenherc9 and @brodygold

[krumpkin]

JFK Quotes - this is one I totally agree with 😊

[qalbicorner]

to be.

to rest without guilt. to want without shame. to take up space without apologizing. to exist without justification. to leave without explanation. to breathe without permission.

[horygory]

Junji Ito Maniac: Japanese Tales of the Macabre (2023)

[liberatingreality]

If you are an approval addict, your behavior is as easy to control as that of any other junkie. All a manipulator need do is a simple two-step process: give you what you crave, and then threaten to take it away. Every drug dealer in the world plays this game.

Harriet B. Braiker, Who's Pulling Your Strings?

[evilhorse]

Here we are all equally beautiful, equally talented, equally solvent.

(Nexus: The Wages of Sin #3)

[walidgoldpreppy]

Welcome WalidGold

Walter Jenkins, a square-faced man in his thirties with a layered red haircut, stood in front of his office mirror, meticulously adjusting his gold tie knot. He wore a crisp suit, black with gold accents here and there—a nod to his role as manager of the famous sports team, the Golden Team.

Each member of the team wore their Gold uniforms, a symbol of their success and unity, and Walter, always dapper, found subtle ways to incorporate the color into his own outfit. Today, it was his tie clip, watch, and belt buckle that sparkled in the dim office light.

On the mahogany desk sat a small bottle, with Arabic writing etched into the glass. It was a gift from a friend, @arab-god.

Why not try it, he thought, with a wry smile. Without further hesitation, he uncorked the bottle and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. At first, he didn't feel anything out of the ordinary.

But a few moments later, a wave of heat invaded his body. His red beard, although well-groomed, began to gradually darken, turning a deep brown. The heat spread, making his skin browner and browner, as if every cell of his being was burning with energy. His muscles swelled, his body became wider, more imposing, as if every fiber of his flesh was being reforged under the effect of the drink.

Walter staggered slightly, his hands gripping the desk to keep his balance. He felt his mind grow numb, his head became lighter, as if his intelligence was slowly fading to make way for something more primal.

His Gold tie strained against his pecs, which were developing visibly. Each breath was heavier, slower, as the heat reached his lower abdomen, triggering an even more radical transformation.

He placed a hand on his chest, watching in amazement as his red hair turned black, taking on a more neat, almost slicked-back look. His eyes, previously a bright blue, became dark, almost black, as a voice echoed in his head, murmuring words in Arabic.

Walter didn't understand a thing, but he knew, deep down, that something had changed. He repeated these words mentally, without understanding their meaning. Suddenly, everything became clear: he had surrendered to something greater. He submitted to the force of this transformation, feeling a new power invade his mind and body. *Allah*... A clear, precise word, invaded his mind.

He felt stronger, more confident, and above all... more dominant. He straightened up, becoming aware of his new body. His skin was tanned, his features harder, his gaze, now dark brown, more piercing. He ran a hand over his beard, which had grown thick and black. Now he was Walter, but also something more. He felt more masculine, more imposing. Every gesture, every movement gave off an aura of power and control.

Standing in his office, Walter or whatever he had become stared into space. His right hand played absently with his tie as his mind sank into a thick, confused haze. Fuzzy memories came to mind, but none of them seemed to belong to the life he had led so far.

Images of his childhood in a small American town, his rising career in sports management, all of it gradually dissipated, like a dream that evaporates in the morning. In their place, a new reality imposed itself, more powerful, more vivid. He was no longer Walter.

Perhaps he had never been. *Walid*, that was who he was. The name echoed in his mind, filling every corner of his being.

Memories of a sunny childhood in a faraway land, in the heart of palm-lined alleys and bustling markets, imposed themselves on him. His parents, pious and respected, had taught him the values ​​of religion from a young age. Every morning, he rose for prayer at dawn, his eyes still sleepy, but his heart filled with faith. Walter's mind was slowly burning, absorbed by these new memories. He was no longer the man he believed himself to be. *Walid*, the son of a prosperous merchant, had grown up learning to dominate his environment, to impose his will with charisma and authority.

Very young, he had developed a natural talent for business, a keen sense of commerce and negotiation. Everything in his life had converged towards an unstoppable rise. Within a few years, he had become an influential businessman, respected throughout the country.

Every morning, Walid put on his suit and tie, a symbol of his success and power.

His unwavering faith had been his guide throughout this journey. He prayed fervently, guided by the love of Allah, and strove to spread the good word wherever he went. His success was not only the fruit of his hard work, but also of his deep devotion to his Creator.

It was Allah who had given him this strength, this natural dominance over other men. Every day, dressed in his impeccable suit, Walid stood as a manager, but also as a guide, a model of masculinity. With his ties and elegant suits, he embodied success, faith, and power. Under his leadership, the team was no longer simply a sports team, but a unified force, driven by a deeper conviction.

Adjusting his tie, he contemplated his reflection in the mirror. His tanned skin, his impeccably groomed black hair, his perfectly trimmed dark beard... Everything about him exuded a natural authority. Walid stood there, towering and powerful, ready to spread the good word through his success in business and sports. There was no more doubt, no more hesitation. Walter Jenkins was a distant memory. Now, he was *WalidGold*.