Daring to Be Different: How Rebellion Led Me Toward Authenticity

Senior Year: When Hiding Didn't Work

When I was a senior in high school, I was still deep in the closet. (I wouldn’t officially come out until I was 21.) But whether I was "out" or not didn’t really matter — the bullying was relentless.

As I ran from the locker room past the track to the cross-country course in the forest, football players on water breaks would shove or rough me up. In the hallways, trash or soda cans would be hurled at me. In class, my pens and pencils were stolen, fake detention slips were planted on me, gum was stuck in my hair. Even the teachers were sometimes complicit in turning a blind eye.

For a long time, I believed if I played small, I could stay invisible. But it didn’t work.

So it was time to experiment: if I was going to be bullied no matter what, I might as well be visible on my own terms.

Leaning into Outrageous Authenticity

When my friend Adrienne decided to become "Breaker Woman," the female school mascot, I jumped at the chance to be "Breaker Man," her male counterpart. (Yes — our school mascot was "The Breakers," as in a crashing ocean wave.) This meant running around in tights and a cape at games and rallies, fumbling through silly superhero skits where I played the klutz and she saved the day.

I also joined Color Guard with the Marching Band, something I'd admired for years. Who cared if I was the only boy? I loved it — the spinning flags, the performance, the sheer joy of it.

When the rally coordinator on the student council quit, my friends and I seized the chance. We transformed what used to be jock-centered pep rallies into full-blown Broadway-style productions — musical numbers, skits, celebrations of academics, arts, and underdog achievements.

And then there were the Heelies — sneakers with wheels. I'd zip down the hills of our outdoor campus so fast that even hurled insults and trash couldn't catch me.

It wasn’t just about activities. It became a mindset.

Every outrageous act was more than rebellion; it was a way of reclaiming pieces of myself I wasn’t ready to fully show.

I dressed up as an alien for a Sadie Hawkins western-themed dance. Hosted underground ghost tours around town. Snuck onto soccer fields to play Ouija board with friends. Adorned my backpack with so many flamboyant pins it jingled. Decked out my Heelies with oversized SpongeBob shoelaces. I challenged the status quo at every turn.

The Truth About This Rebellion

Looking back, I realize: I wasn’t living my authentic truth. I wasn’t yet free.

I was still hiding, but now behind outrageousness and defiance instead of invisibility. It wasn’t true happiness. It wasn’t true comfort.

But it was something. It was movement. It was an act of survival and small reclamation.

It was choosing to be seen on my terms, not just erased by theirs.

Over time, through healing, reflection, and self-love, I began to understand what true freedom really feels like — quiet, steady acceptance, rather than defiance.

Your Invitation to Reflect

Take a moment to think about your own journey:

• When have you hidden parts of yourself to survive?

• When have you rebelled, even imperfectly, as an act of self-claiming?

• What small, brave acts helped you stay connected to your true self?

  
  

A Ritual for Reclaiming Your Bravery

If you want to honor your journey (and all the messy, brave ways you've survived), try this simple ritual:

• Create a Safe Space: Light a candle or play an empowering song.

• Write It Down: List three times you chose visibility over hiding — even if it felt messy, imperfect, or scary.

• Bless the Journey: Hold the list to your heart. Thank your younger self for their courage. If it feels right, safely burn or bury the list, releasing old judgment and embracing pride.

  
  

Final Thought

You don’t have to be perfect to be brave.

Every silly outfit, every risky step, every moment you refused to disappear — it mattered.

It built the beautiful, resilient, shining soul you are today.

And your journey isn’t over.

Keep choosing visibility. Keep choosing you.

Because even imperfect authenticity plants the seeds for true freedom.