My head hurt and my palms were sweaty. Walking into the large gray building, I felt small and insignificant, staring up at all the intimidating students towering over me, laughing with all their friends. I could feel people’s eyes, analyzing me, studying me, judging me. Who knew that my first day of high school would turn out like this.
What is she wearing? They were probably all thinking. I looked down at my clothes, feeling out of place. I was wearing a horrifying knee-length black skirt. Every single person in the lobby was wearing pants instead.
This wasn’t just some shallow fashion crisis. Even though I wore skirts consistently for religious reasons, and it was something I did believe in, I felt awkward and ashamed of my differences. The skirt was the barrier between me and everyone else — the skirt was the wall that prevented me from fitting in.
Growing up being an Orthodox Jew, and going to a religious private school for the entirety of my elementary and middle school life, I was used to being the same as everyone and fitting in. Therefore, distraught and upset, I convinced myself that I would get through school without friends. No one would want to be friends with someone like me, so I would just focus on school. High school would not be the thrilling experience I had seen in the movies.
Over the next 2 years, I went from an Orthodox environment where everyone wore what I wore, to a public school where I was the only one. As I observed and settled into my new environment, some days were good, others bad. I felt judged and out of place every day.
As the uncomfortability settled in, I grew tired of worrying about the way people perceived me. While I knew I wasn’t at the point yet where I could easily shut off my feelings, I made a smaller personal decision, to try to take every step and every moment one at a time, instead of overwhelming myself.
As I adjusted to this mindset, over time, I began making friends from my classes. Slowly but surely, I adapted to the culture of my new environment, but everything around me felt so unfamiliar and I couldn’t seem to fully accept my differences.
Then one day, towards the end of sophomore year, I was walking toward the bus stop with my friend and we were reminiscing about our freshman years.
“Do you regret coming to Townsend?” she asked me.
“No,” I quickly replied.
As I said this, I was shocked to realize that I hadn’t lied; I genuinely loved it here. I wouldn’t trade anything for my high school experience. I realized I was so happy right here, and right now.
I thought back to my first day of high school, and I remembered watching the older students surrounded by their friends. It hit me that I had become those people from my first day of high school. I had never, ever thought that I would reach the point in my life where I was like them because I had thought I was so different. But here I was.
All this time, I was so consumed by the thought of people judging me, that I didn’t realize how happy I was. I realized that I don’t need to be the same to belong. I can be different, I can dress differently, I can have a different background. People will like me for me, and they do.
From that day forward, every time I entered a new environment, instead of running and hiding myself, I approached people with confidence and was able to easily weave my differences into something that was beautiful.
This summer I worked in a summer camp. I made many friends from different backgrounds that did not know the reason I wore skirts. When people asked, I used to reply with, “It’s for religious reasons”. Now, I reply with, “It is for religious reasons but I love wearing skirts; it is a part of me. It’s who I am, and I don’t ever want that to change”. I don’t try and hide my differences, instead, I embellish them, because I am proud of who I am.