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When I was thirteen, I absolutely hated Boy George because he was a dude who dressed feminine and I was PRIMED to hate anyone who threatened my very tentative grasp on masculinity. I screamed at the TV whenever he came on.
Now? I'm ashamed that I got mad at all.
Now? I'm ashamed that I got mad at all.
My reflexive hatred of Boy George was ironic, because I was also into hair metal, where men spent a LOT of time putting on makeup and pouffing their hair to dress in skimpy outfits for videos, but for some reason that was coded as manly so I was totally in love with THOSE dudes.
To this day I still don't like Boy George's music, because it's the twee pop I've never had a taste for, but I look back and realize that so much of my distaste stemmed from this feeling that somehow by hating a man in makeup, I was asserting who I was.
Now that I'm older, I've come to realize that any aspect of my personality that I have to define by hatred isn't a healthy definition.
I absolutely do hate things! But I hate them because they're opposing things I love. My hatred doesn't define me; my love does.
I absolutely do hate things! But I hate them because they're opposing things I love. My hatred doesn't define me; my love does.
And if I DO start to define myself by hatred, generally that's the sign that I'm trying to impress someone- someone who usually doesn't care about MY well-being as much as they care about crushing someone else's rebellious self-expression.
The haters will sell me out quick.
The haters will sell me out quick.
