Your Most Underestimated Superpower
And why it's so easy to forget you have it
When I was a kid I used to beg my mother to let me dress up as a punk rocker for Halloween.
“Hell no,” she’d say as she dug through a garbage bag looking for last year’s bumble bee costume.
She never found it, that trash bag became the bumble bee costume.
Talk about taking the wind out of your sail.
I remember thinking, “When I grow up, I’m gonna dress like a punk rocker every day.”
Little did I know, decades later I’d be forced to shave my head after an incident with some bleach and a hairdresser friend of mine. (Shout out to Virginia, may she RIP)
My hair had been reduced to a rubbery texture and was falling out by the hand fulls.
I’d never worn my hair this short before but, I gotta tell you - as a female, shaving your head is fucking liberating.
It goes against every cultural expectation of a female.
We are told that the length of our hair is directly correlated with how sexy we are.
Breaking cultural norms was normal for me but, I wasn’t all the way comfortable with this long pixie cut.
Oh well, too late now.
I pulled up to the grocery store. I was in full hair and makeup.
Spikes on my wrists. Concert t-shirt, ripped jeans. Glam makeup, mohawk in full effect.
I stroll into the store, looking for dog food.
My boots ‘clacking’ with every strut.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
“Where the fuck is the dog food?”
Clack. Clack. Clack.
“Oh, here it is.”
Aisle 17, of course.
I have to excuse myself past a mother and daughter who were also on aisle 17 browsing for cat food.
Politely I say, “I’m sorry, excuse me. Can I get past you real quick?”
The mother is distracted by the multitude of cat food options.
I look down at the daughter as I squeeze past her.
Her eyes were wide and locked on me, following me, watching me as I make my way to the dog food.
Her bottom jaw came unhinged and crept open in awe of all my public rebelliousness.
She stood there frozen, not sure what she was looking at, yet, the wonderment in her eyes was clear.
I remember feeling this way when my mother took me to a topless burlesque show in Vegas when I was about eight years old.
My eight-year-old brain was so fascinated by the fact that all those women seem to have the most perfect boobs.
Those women were so beautiful, and sparkly, and forever burned into my memory.
Anyway, back to aisle 17.
Her mother mumbled something about her being in the way of the basket and turned to look at her daughter after she was met with silence.
Her eyes dart from her daughter and then back to me.
With a single gesture, she spun her daughter around so that her back was to me.
Of course, her daughter tried to resist.
The mother flung a hand up, blocking her daughter’s view of me, in all my glory.
I smiled at the little girl and grabbed a bag of dog food off the shelf.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Whelp, I’m keeping the mohawk forever, I told myself.
The universe was trying to tell me something and I heard it loud and clear.
It is your job to go out and be bold, be you, all the way.
I’m not talking about some half-assed dipping your toe in the water shit.
Figure out who you’ve always wanted to be and become that person.
Because if you don’t, you are robbing the world of really experiencing who you are to the fullest.
For every person who’s offended by your ideas, there’s another person who is inspired by you.
Never underestimate the power of your own influence. Never.
It could be the way you talk, the way you walk, the way you command a room, the way you carry yourself.
Be memorable, stop questioning yourself, and follow your gut.
Stop factoring in what you think everyone is going to think about your choices.
Don’t let the voice of doubt be louder than your dreams.
Now, I wonder what ever happened to that little girl on aisle 17.
I hope she walked out of that grocery store believing that she could do whatever she wanted with her life.
I hope you find your aisle 17,
Jacklyn Miller - Chief Rebel at Renegade Art Co