As I make my way down the crowded high school hallway, I hear shoes smacking against the linoleum behind me.

“Hi Jillian.”

 I spin around. Unfamiliar faces stare back at me then burst into laughter.

Did I miss the joke? No, I quickly realize, the joke is me. What exactly were they laughing at this time? My blue hair? Dark makeup? Ankle-length skirt? Maybe all three. I spin back around and continue walking, my long skirt impeding my effort to disappear as quickly as possible. My eyes sting as my tear ducts fill. When I wipe them away, my eyeliner smears. 

I was never perceived as “normal” by my peers. This was partly because of my nontraditional style—unconventional hair color, dramatic makeup and clothing and accessories that set me apart in a hallway full of sameness.  I wasn’t like most of the students I knew, many of whom caved to peer pressure and learned to hide their authentic selves in order to be accepted by the collective hive.

The way I’ve always presented myself placed me in a category a favorite musical of mine calls “next to normal.” I learned early on that people often shy away from individuals who challenge their definition of “normal.” Maybe this is why my classmates were hesitant to talk to me; maybe it was because they feared that others would assume we were friends. I eventually recognized that being called “normal” was intended as praise. However, my mantra was more aligned with the words of Frank Zappa, one of most stylistically unique musicians in history, who said, “Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.”

Fearing how others viewed me led me to erase parts of myself simply to avoid further scrutiny. Over time, practically all that remained unchanged about me was my sense of humor. I now realize that frequently hearing classmates tell me I was “funny” may have saved me.

Research supports what I was experiencing. According to the healthfully.com article, “Conformity in Teenagers,” teens often choose friends and join cliques to satisfy their need to belong. This is one reason the group members all dress and act alike. Even alternate teenagers feel pressure to conform, if simply to avoid being labeled “weird.”

Being “emo,” however, was never just about fashion. According to various sources, it also included adopting specific political views and musical preferences. As one honors student researcher explained in a study on youth conformity, the desire to be accepted by peers can lead students to reshape their social identities to align with the expectations of those around them, often at the cost of their authenticity. 

Sometimes I miss the person I used to be. I think often of feminist author Rita Mae Brown’s words: “The reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself.” Bowing to peer pressure to change myself wasn’t worth the brief validation I derived from it. As John F. Kennedy once said: “Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.”

After some self-reflection, I realized I was more than just my appearance. I could still be myself while making slight modifications for the sake of social survival. I could still listen to the music I liked and dress how I wanted; I just had to dial it back on the eye makeup.

Before my teenage years, I never cared what others thought of me. As I grew older, however, it became impossible to ignore; peers became meaner, and the whispers grew louder. And the more I conformed, the unhappier I became.

Psychological research confirms this pattern. According to the psychologytoday.com article, “Helping Your Teen Navigate Conformity Pressure,” teen depression is already common, and the added pressure to conform can worsen mental health. For teens, there’s often an inverse relationship between conformity and emotional well-being.

A mind.help article, “Conformity and Mental Health,” conveys how conformity can lead to suppressing one’s authentic thoughts and feelings, causing inner conflict and distress. And excessive conformity driven by low self-esteem can negatively impact one’s self-worth and self-image. 

Being ostracized by people who were once friends is painful no matter how one looks at it. Wanting to fit in is normal, but learning how to express oneself and be happy is the real challenge. Ultimately, I learned that what really defined me was having the strength to forgive the people who were cruel to me and move forward.  

Today, I no longer feel the need to conform. My peers’ validation means a lot less to me than it once did. I don’t know if I ever will return to the person I once was, but I’ve learned how to exist as two versions of myself; they may look slightly different, but both bring me happiness.

Editor’s Note: If you or someone you know is struggling, help is available. In NJ, call the NJ Suicide Prevention Hopeline: 1-855-654-6735. Nationwide, call or text: 988, which connects you to trained counselors 24/7.