melliemork.org

“Just be yourself.”

It’s one of those phrases we’ve collectively decided is almost always a good thing to say. We say this when our friend is nervous about a first date, when a family member is preparing for a job interview, some say it in the mirror before going out. We tell people to embrace who they are. To stop caring what others think. To pursue the things that make them happy. And to never apologize for being different. 

Until their version of “different” makes us uncomfortable.

I can think of plenty of people who preach originality, authenticity, kindness, and individuality, people who genuinely see themselves as open-minded and accepting, yet somehow have a very specific idea of what acceptable individuality looks like.

Be yourself.

Just… not like that.

There is a particular kind of person who has built an identity around being different.

 Maybe it’s the “sensitive feminist” guy. He talks about respecting women. He criticizes the way society judges women based on their appearance. He believes women should be allowed to exist without being constantly evaluated for their attractiveness.

Until a woman doesn’t fit the beauty standard he personally prefers.

Then, somehow, she becomes fair game. Joke-worthy. Instagram hate comment worthy. 

Or maybe she is the “cool, artsy” girl. She has niche interests, an unconventional sense of style, and a carefully curated collection of things that make her feel unique. She prides herself on being someone who “doesn’t care what people think.” Yes, the call might be coming from inside the house here. 

But when someone else walks into the room with an interest that is actually outside the mainstream, the script flips. 

The quirky outfit that was cute when she wore it becomes embarrassing when someone else does something similar or even does it better than she does. The obscure hobby that made her interesting becomes “weird” when someone takes it more seriously. Being unapologetically yourself is admirable, until the person doing it is someone she would never want to be associated with.

Or a man who is vocal about men’s mental health until it comes to a homosexual or neurodivergent man posting on a college page. When it’s a flamboyantly gay man posting, and suddenly men’s mental health doesn’t matter because now there’s a butt to the “@coolguy needs a roommate! hit him up asap!” joke. And I think to myself, imagine how excited that boy’s parents are that he’s going to college, that he’s going to make new friends, that his horizons are broadening, just to be met with hateful “jokes”. Furthermore, I’ve seen this bit done on people who may not understand it’s a joke. People who aren’t the best at picking up on sarcasm and could think these comments are serious. It’s cruel. 

And perhaps the most stunning part is that these people often don’t see themselves as hypocritical. They genuinely believe they are kind. They genuinely believe they are progressive. They genuinely believe they are different from the people who bully, judge, or exclude others.

Because most of us don’t imagine ourselves as the villain in someone else’s story.

We imagine ourselves as the person who would have defended them.

But what happens when the person who needs defending is someone we don’t particularly like?

That, in my opinion, is how someone shows they’re truly kind. 

It is remarkably easy to believe in individuality when the individual looks like you.

It is easy to say “let people enjoy what they enjoy” when their interests are aesthetically pleasing, socially acceptable, or conveniently trendy. It’s easy to celebrate someone for being unconventional when their unconventionality still falls within the boundaries of what our social circles consider cool.

But there are certain people society has decided are much easier to laugh at.

Cosplayers.

Furries.

People who dress differently.

People who are intensely passionate about fandoms.

People with unusual hobbies.

People who are socially awkward.

People who don’t understand the complicated set of rules of how you’re “supposed” to act in public.

People who are fat. 

People who are too skinny. 

And, perhaps most cruelly, people who are disabled.

These are the people who often reveal the limits of our supposed acceptance.

Because when someone says, “People should be able to love themselves,” what they sometimes really mean is, “People should be able to love themselves as long as I still find them pleasant to look at and be around.”

When someone says, “Everyone should be comfortable being themselves,” what they sometimes mean is, “Everyone should be comfortable being themselves as long as their self-expression doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

And when someone says, “Don’t judge people for things they can’t control,” the test comes when they encounter someone whose body, behavior, or circumstances make them uncomfortable.

That is where the philosophy of accepting meets the reality of social acceptiveness.

I don’t say any of this from a pedestal.

I have judged people who didn’t deserve it. I have had immediate reactions to people, appearances, hobbies, or lifestyles that I didn’t understand. I have laughed at cruel jokes. I have made cruel jokes. I have looked at something and thought, That’s weird.

I think most people have.

Judgment is deeply ingrained in us. We learn very early what is considered normal, attractive, respectable, embarrassing, successful, feminine, masculine, cool, pathetic, desirable, or strange. We absorb those categories so thoroughly that sometimes we don’t even realize we’re using them.

And that’s what’s uncomfortable; some of our cruelty doesn’t feel like cruelty to us.

It feels like a joke. Or it feels like an observation. It feels like having “standards.” It feels like harmless commentary because everyone else is laughing.

And sometimes we convince ourselves that the person we’re laughing at deserves it because they are “asking for attention,” “putting themselves out there,” or “being cringe.”

But being cringe doesn’t give anyone permission to humiliate them. 

Something being strange doesn’t give us permission to be cruel. 

Someone’s appearance doesn’t determine how much dignity we think they deserve. 

There is a difference between not understanding someone and believing they deserve to be ridiculed.

I don’t have to understand every hobby. I don’t have to want to participate in every lifestyle. I don’t have to think everything someone does is interesting, attractive, or sensible.

But I think maturity is learning that discomfort is not the same thing as wrongdoing. Being “weird” is not a crime. Not fitting into the conventional beauty standards is not a crime. But these things can feel like an offense when the judgemental eyes of society decide it’s acceptable to mock and ridicule these people. 

Someone can be different from me without being wrong.

Someone can make choices I would never make without becoming a target.

Someone can look completely ridiculous to me and still absolutely deserve to walk down the street without becoming entertainment for strangers.

And I believe that’s a more meaningful definition of acceptance.

Not “I accept you because I understand you.”

Not “I accept you because I think you’re cool.”

Not even “I accept you because I agree with you.”

But: I accept that you are a person whose existence does not require my approval.

That distinction matters.

Because anyone can be kind to people they admire.

Real kindness is tested by the person you don’t understand.

The person you wouldn’t invite to your party, whose clothes you’d never wear, whose hobby makes you roll your eyes, who doesn’t fit neatly into your social world, who isn’t attractive by your standards, whose body looks different from yours, whose disability makes their life look different from what you’re accustomed to.

Those people don’t need us to pretend we’re fascinated by them. They don’t need fake praise or performative acceptance.

They simply need us to stop treating their existence as an invitation to be cruel.

And that’s hypocrisy worth scrutinizing, whether we are perfectly accepting people, because none of us are, but whether our compassion has conditions we haven’t admitted to ourselves.

It’s easy to say, “Be yourself.”

The harder thing is to say, “Be yourself, even if I don’t understand you. Even if I wouldn’t choose you as my friend. Even if I don’t think you’re cool. Even if your version of authenticity makes me uncomfortable.”

Because if our acceptance only extends to people who are different in ways we find appealing, then we’re not really celebrating individuality.

I don’t think the goal should be to eliminate judgment from our minds entirely. That’s probably impossible.

The goal is to stop turning every judgment into a weapon.

Think something is weird?

Fine.

Don’t understand someone’s hobby?

Fine.

Wouldn’t live their life?

Fine.

We can let the thought end there.

We don’t have to make everything we don’t understand smaller so that we can feel bigger.

And if we’re going to tell people to be authentic, to embrace themselves, and to stop living according to everyone else’s expectations, then we should be prepared for authenticity to look like something we didn’t expect.

Otherwise, we’re not really asking people to be themselves.

We’re asking them to be the version of themselves that we’re comfortable accepting.

And that isn’t acceptance.

So yes, actually be yourself.

But let’s make room for the uncomfortable part of that sentence, too.

Let other people be themselves.

Even when they’re not your kind of person.

Especially then.