Labels, Poseurs, and Oppressors

People are often uncomfortable with just being themselves. They hide behind labels, subcultures, and factions to define self rather than simply being. There are also those people who don’t fit a label but still try to present themselves that way.

This past week, I had a few people who believed themselves to be certain things when clearly they aren’t what they claim to be. For one of these persons, I decided to ruffle their feathers to see how they would react to controversy by letting them know they weren’t what they presented themselves to be. Instead of providing proof to the contrary, this person decided to pick on me, call me names, and tell me off. Some people don’t know how to handle conflict but I was pointing out what was clear to everyone. There’s a big pink elephant in the room and it’s you.

I often wish I wasn’t human. I ask my dad if I can be another species, and his comment is, “You’re not another species but you can pretend if it makes you happy.” Basically, I can call myself whatever I want – but it doesn’t make it true. The same goes with other people who are so set on defining themselves with mistaken labels. They are like me, wishing to be another species, I can pretend if I like, but it doesn’t make it true.

I usually let people pretend to be what they want to be when they are clearly not that. They feel threatened by people who are the real thing because they are simply wannabes. They form networks of wannabes and live a fake existence. Most people like to believe they are awesome, smart, attractive, and all sorts of things when they clearly aren’t. But they stick around with other losers; never working on improving themselves, and always staying a sad mess. They resort to picking on others to make themselves feel big. Clearly, they are broken inside and not ready to deal with it so they resort to pettiness.

I would have been a victim of some malicious trolls; immature kids, on the internet if I cared and let it upset me. For example, they are so set on trying to prove “how punk they are” by being wicked to others in the community. I am trying to sell my punk vest on etsy because it’s time for it to have a new home. I don’t know anyone worthy of being given such a gift so I figured I’d sell it. It has about 100 hours of labor into it, so it’s worth double than what I am asking for it. For some unknown reason, maybe because they liked the vest and couldn’t afford it, or they are just a mess in their own head, they tried to ridicule me. It didn’t work because I don’t care. I am only writing about this experience to show how they are what they claim not to be. Cruel, immature, and hateful. Everything that punk stands against, these people represent.

Punk isn’t about your studded vest, your colored mohawk, or your crust pants. That’s a uniform anyways. It’s about what’s inside. Peace, equality, and freedom from oppression. Clearly, these people are the oppressors. So, no matter what tattoos they have, what songs they listen, and patches they sew on they will always be a poseur. They are followers, imprisoned to their pack because no one else wants to be their friends because they are losers by the nature they are what they hate. They will never admit it to themselves because to admit a truth would have their whole world come undone. The saddest thing is, even if they disagree with me, they won’t be able to formulate an intelligent argument beyond swear words and pointing fingers. They never look in the mirror and can recognize they are the problem because they have blinders on.

With that being said, I define myself into boxes not as absolutes – nothing is black and white, but as guides to assist. Unlike the poseurs, I don’t have an image I am presenting that I’ll give up everything to maintain just to continue living a lie. I live life fully without fear. The poseurs live in constant fear of reality which is their choice. They live a life not of reality but of spectacle and melodrama. Everything in the world is about them. They are very selfish. They are people I want not to be associated with.

Maybe that’s why it’s time to sell my vest. Those who are “punk” aren’t really punk. I don’t want to be associated with people who are a lot of talk and never any action. People who have to hide behind a computer to make jabs at others because they are so uncomfortable in their own skin. Cowards and oppressors. Being exactly what I am fighting against. I have no time for you.