Madalynn M.

Tharp

The Brilliance Beneath

“Good luck, she’ll be a teenager soon.”

Those were the words. The words I heard continually and in different variations
throughout my 12th year of life. To the speakers, that proclamation was maybe a bit of a joke. To
me, they were judging the whole of my character on stereotypes. So many different people, some
strangers, looked at me in this harsh light. So why did I hardly ever identify with the ways they
conceived me? The adolescent years are a mix of darkness and light. Although most people only
see the darkness, there is amazing light in every aspect; around every corner, Everyone possesses
the ability to stoke the flame of positive adolescents and harness the amazing energy created by
that bright fire.

My distant family often only saw me surrounded by the looming shadow of

adolescents, enveloping, snuffing, and ignoring any creative light, any spark that was there. In
my case, my family's condescending confused stares, or warm loving smiles and hugs affected
how I acted. Trying to please them, be perfect, get good grades, be kind and smart. The person I
wanted to be was affected by their opinions, pushing myself to be the best in their eyes. I even
became the sweet, innocent child my family wanted, adverse to a stereotypical teenager, which is
something that they loathed, and maybe even feared. They also set standards and good and bad
examples for me. As my thirteenth birthday approached my family began to see me as something
different, no longer was I the innocent little girl I had been previously. They saw me as on the
precipice of becoming criminal-like. To them, I would no longer be the sweet child of the family
but a rebellious, noxious, scary, disrespectful, lazy teenager, eclipsing all “child-like” qualities,
even if those “child-like” qualities were qualities that made up my character, kindness, empathy,
curiosity. My cousins would occasionally make comments about me being a teenager. “You’ll be
wild and rebellious when you’re a teen.” My true light and potential as an adolescent were often
pushed aside to make way for the all-consuming, light obliterating, black hole that are
stereotypes.

That feeling of unshakeable depressing darkness filled every aspect of my life,

suppressing the flame. Nearly all of my relationships affected it and were affected by it. Often, it
felt as though my family and some friends were just projecting stereotypes and experiences from
their own adolescence onto me. This continual onslaught of negative perceptions began to tire
me, often nearly pushing me to the point of tears. They could only see me as a teenager, not for
who I actually was.

During a family Christmas celebration when I was 13, my cousin made an off-hand
remark toward my general vicinity: “Next year you probably won't even want to hang out with
your boring ol’ family.”

“Why wouldn't I want to celebrate Christmas with my family next year?” I replied,
bewildered. “Oh you know teenagers, they’d rather hang out with their friends, and probably get
into some trouble, than spend time with their family.” they concluded. A blank buzzing filled my
ears and I glared at my cousin. I didn't care one bit whether they were joking or not and I’m not
sure what came out of my mouth just then, but it was snappish enough to make them awkwardly
stop talking.

When it came to being an adolescent and people mentioning stereotypes I would always
avoid eye contact, scowl, and make sarcastic, bitter remarks. This bitterness began to show by
me rebelling against being a rebellious teen. In doing so I tried to push off the weighted shadow
that blocked out my real light just beneath.

Moreover, the deep blackness of stereotypes can manipulate and consume people even
when they don't realize it. Stereotypes can push people in the crepuscular direction of mimicking
the stereotype or chase a person in the opposite direction of the stereotype, as with me and my
rebellion against rebellion. “Adolescents who are absorbing negative messages about who they
are and what is expected of them may sink to that level instead of realizing their true
potential.”(Siegel, 4) I've continually felt the suffocating vale of darkness of being seen only as a
teen, not as myself, so why would I want to let myself be further consumed by the deep dark
murk of adolescent stereotypes? However, sadly, the opposite is true for many adolescents, time
and again, adolescents have been seen as a bleak time in a person's life, a time of bad choices,
and moodiness. When these negative messages are forced onto someone they may begin to
absorb those negative ideas and turn them inwards, then people begin to sink to the low level that
is expected of them and which they may now also expect from themselves, letting themselves be
consumed by the endless abyss, losing sight of any possible light. When people don't expect
good things from you then how could you ever expect anything worthwhile from yourself? If we
were all allowed to rise to our true potential and not be squashed down then all of our light and
creativity would be brilliant.

My own potential, identity, and the light was nearly consumed by the black hole in
middle school, although I was able to synthesize my unique light from the obstructive gloom my
peers wished to inflict upon me. The wind from a hundred voices speaking the same two words
threatened to quench the fire that was my identity, my hope, my spirit. “Try Hard”. Such a
middle schooler thing to say, though, even now I do still hear those words from time to time. The
first time I heard them the tone of the words hit me much before the actual meaning. I got an A
on a history test and I heard these words whispered from the back of the class, dowsing my
spirits, making the joyous feeling of the A evaporate. I hung my head and returned to my seat.
Later in science class, I would raise my hand for every question the teacher asked and I answered
almost always perfectly and again I felt the chill of those words all around me, side glances from
the other kids and snickering hidden behind their hands. My spirits sank yet again, but this time a
new feeling joined them, and I began to wonder, why shouldn't I try hard on my test or on the
questions the teacher asks? When I try hard I learn, and isn't learning the whole point of school?
The next time I heard those words from a group of sneering girls during a lab in science, I simply
smiled, said “Thank you.” and proceeded with my work. I had finally registered what the two
words “Try Hard” meant, they really weren't a personal slight at all. It was a gracious
compliment, so I took that meaning of the phrase and ran with it. In this case, I had used the
tenebrosity of my peers' opinions as fuel for a brighter flame.

I was able to use adolescents to deepen my identity, making my light a little brighter. I
didn't give up who I was just to appease my peers and thus sink into the abyss. Instead, I brushed
aside those dark words to reveal my inner light. People putting labels on their peers is another
form of shadowy stereotype that comes along with adolescents.

At the beginning of my 9th-grade year, I had a new, more difficult darkness to deal with. I
had to find my source of light to conquer that billowing, surrounding murk. During part of that
year, I could almost swear that people saw me differently because of my hair. Stupid maybe, and
probably paranoid, but from that notion, inky shadows streamed, further fed by my own negative
thoughts. It was then that my hair was the longest it had ever been, probably about 24 inches. I
brushed it, and took exquisite care of it, and even, occasionally, measured it. I had grown it since
I was 8 when my hair was well above my shoulders. Then, somewhere in the first half of 9th
grade, I began to worry that my hair was such a large characteristic of mine that it outshone the
better ones, the more modest but useful characteristics. Then this idea manifested as a clear
thought, “ I don't want to be known as the girl with the long hair.” I'd rather be known as the girl
with all A’s, or the environmentalist, or a host of other things that defined my true identity, not
just my hair.

I can never be sure whether people actually thought of me like that, but those invisible
and tormenting opinions of those around me made me seriously reconsider my hair. So, one cool
day in late winter I stood in the upstairs bathroom, looking in the mirror, looking at my hair. I ran
my fingers through it and turned my head this way and that. Then closed my eyes and made a
decision, I would cut it off, and donate it, to appease the ache of cutting it that stemmed from 5
years of growing my long locks. I rushed down the stairs, hurriedly telling my mom, “I want to
donate my hair, I’m going to cut it off.” She looked perplexed, and tried to talk me out of it,
“You’ve spent 5 years growing it, it's so long now, are you sure you won't miss it?”. I
unwaveringly shut down her concerns. If I second-guessed myself now I'd never be able to cut it
off. The next afternoon, I walked around the park with my new hair, 18 inches shorter than it had
been, I felt lighter, freer, more myself that day. I cast off my negative inner thoughts, letting my
fire burn unhindered.

In my situation, I was being heavily affected by my “looking glass self”(Perception Is

Reality: The Looking-Glass Self). The concept of the looking glass self is when an individual's
actions are based on a model that they create of themselves through social interaction and other
people's perceived judgments and opinions of themselves. I based how I saw myself with long
hair on how I thought my peers might perceive me and then make assumptions about me. That
year, due to covid mitigating factors, I didn't become very close with my classmates so
something as small as my hair affected my looking glass self because I didn't know my peers
well, and I know they didn’t know me well, which leaves more space for the foundation of false
perceptions of my character. They may not have known that I don't often care about appearance,
but I assumed that they would assume that I care more about superficial matters than important
ones such as school or one of my many interests. When people think about me I want them to
see my true inner light, not only see shallow, fake, darkness on the outside.

Wanting to be known for my inner light instead of being associated with dark facilities
affected me just as much on my first day of high school. I sat in the car driving to school, bright
light flickering nervously. Now I could see the school. A knot twisted in my stomach and my
limbs trembled. “I can't believe I'm in high school now, I can't believe that I'm actually going to
my high school. I can't wait to find my tribe of people!” We turned off the main road and up the
hill to the school and finally parked in an empty spot in the parking lot. Now my legs tremble so
much that I wasn't sure I could walk from the car to the meeting spot with my advisor. My mom
and Papa hugged me, “We love you, have a good first day!” I smiled stiffly back, then hooked
the loops of my mask over my ears and walked quickly toward the place my freshmen group said
they would meet. I glanced around the slowly filling-up parking lot. The one person I knew at
this school wasn't here yet, so I sat on a rock and tentatively introduced myself to my advisor.
Another girl came up to the spot and sat on a rock next to mine, “um, Hi!” I said, voice
trembling. “Hi.” she said. Then no one said anything else, except for the advisor who tried to
make some small talk, but the silence remained.

A breeze disrupted the small flame. Thoughts raced through my head:” Why is this so
awkward? I thought that meeting people would be much easier!” A thick sheet of glass had fallen
between me and the other students in my small pod, and that same silence of before continued.
That same situation seemed to be on repeat for the rest of the day, each new person I met I
couldn't make a connection to, the same thick sheet of glass sectioned me off. I smiled politely,
but underneath my thoughts strained to find something substantial to talk about:” Do I say I like
her hair? Comment on the weather? Tell her how nervous I am? No, that'll just make things
weirder.” “I'm glad it's not raining today, on our first day, like it was yesterday. . .” This was the
epitome of my whole freshman year, I learned their names but I didn't know them at all.

This memory crept back into my mind as I stepped out of my car into the crisp autumn air
of my first day of tenth grade. “Can I dare to hope for a better experience this year?” Within the
first few weeks, slowly, and nearly imperceptibly I began to gather a closer group of friends.
These people and I often had things in common, but not all friendships are that way. Now when
my friends went on long tangents I wouldn’t zone out and nod, never comprehending what they
said. Now I care, I usually have a genuine smile on my face when I talk to them and I laugh,
really laugh. When I talk, the people I hang out with don't go quiet and act like they hate what I
just said. I slouched into school one day with my anxiety levels at their peak, a pit of unknown
origin settling in my stomach. I sat at my desk in journalism, hardly acknowledging my friends'
presents beside me. I opened my laptop and tried to focus on my work staring at the screen
intently but my hands froze on the keyboard. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up
to see my two close friends in that class smiling at me. “Do you want a hug, Maddie?” one of
them asked, I nodded dully. Just one hug and I felt the clammy nervous feeling lift. With them,
by my side, my candle's flame became brighter burning off the shadows that clung to me.

Many adults have a darker view of friendships throughout adolescents: “While group
collaboration can certainly be a course of collective intelligence, it can also get you to jump off a
cliff or drive too fast.” (Siegel 29) Of course, this negative peer pressure is a common thread
throughout adolescence, which is inevitably why parents and other adults are wary of friendships
during adolescence. It’s a stereotype that unfortunately has some grounding in reality. However,
as Siegel also says on page 29,” You can feel comforted by membership in the group,
strengthened by membership in the group, and even more creative in the collective intelligence
of the group.” There is a positive side to peer connection that most people don't see or even know
about. Helping each other make the right decisions is a large part of positive peer pressure, this
could take the form of encouraging and helping each other with school work, or discouraging the
use of drugs and alcohol: “The drive for social connection leads to the creation of supportive
relationships. . .” (Siegel 8) Peer pressure and connection, the positive kind, can be a form of
support from peers to peers, this can help adolescents get through tough times with people who
really know what they're going through. All of this goes to helping teens keep their flames alight
and not straying into the bleak void just beyond.

Throughout my life, up until now, my flame has been consistent in temperature and color,
my light sources were bright and steadfast, but not entirely my own. I thought that I had myself
figured out, set in my ways, and confident with whom I thought I was, but that light was being
fed by other people's values, ideas, and hopes, both societies, and my parents. When adolescents
set in, and my growing independence and individuality my flame started to be fed by another
source, my own passions and ideas, and values. This all formed with the path of self-discovery, a
synthesizing of my true self, and setting my light sources apart from others.

Darkness and negativity surround adolescents, the negative qualities that may be
superficial but do have some reality to them, are always seen first, and first impressions stick
with us. People might first see teens as lazy, incompetent, moody, phone addicts. However, once
you purposely brush aside the dark gossamer vale, it's impossible to not see the brilliance of the
positives of adolescents that lurk just beneath. But you first must be willing to look for the
radiance. Adolescents may always be viewed as a shadowy burden, but in the inky abyss, a
candle will shine, and this fire can be stoked to become a raging inferno of colorful light,
consuming the dark.

Work Cited:
Siegel, Daniel. Brainstorm: The Power and Purpose of the Teenage Brain. Jeremy B.
Tarcher/Penguin. 2015, pp.1-37.

Perception Is Reality: The Looking-Glass Self. Lesley University,

https://lesley.edu/article/perception-is-reality-the-looking-glass-self, Accessed 18. November,
2021