Staying Gold: My Life-Long Quest to Become Ponyboy as Played by C. Thomas Howell in the 1983 Movie “The Outsiders” Directed by Francis Ford Coppola

Maylin Tu
Maylin Tu
Nov 8 · 5 min read

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind:

Matt Dillon and a ride home. So I pulled up Lyft on my iPhone.

I recently came to a rude awakening: Apparently, this whole “being an adult” thing has been a cover for my lifelong quest to become Ponyboy as played by C. Thomas Howell in the 1983 movie version of “The Outsiders.”

It took me a while to embrace destiny, but here we are. My true self is a 14 year-old boy in an 80s movie directed by Francis Ford Coppola and based on a book written in the 60s by a sixteen year-old girl, so basically nostalgia tripled filtered and then filtered again. Yes. All of the yes. If only my life were also sepia-toned and I could tell early 80s Diane Lane that we all look at the same sunset, whether from the back steps of our rundown clapboard house or from the patio of a swanky mansion.

We are all the same.

It all started when I was eleven years-old.

Or was it earlier? I don’t remember when I first read “The Outsiders” by S.E. Hinton, but I do remember the effect it had on me. I wanted to be in that world. I wanted to be Ponyboy. Never mind that I was a preteen American girl living in Beijing, China.

I still reread “Tex” and “Rumble Fish” as an adult, but I’m too afraid to reread “The Outsiders,” for fear of ruining the experience of reading it for the very first time.

I vaguely remember trying to explain the characters and the entire plot to my younger brother as we roamed around our neighborhood at night (yes, this was pre-Netflix).

I told him there was a character named Sodapop, Soda for short.

Soda as played by Rob Lowe

I convinced my family to buy a VHS copy of the movie at Walmart during a sojourn in the States. We watched it in our living room with the reddish-brown plastic suede couches and the only A/C unit in the entire apartment.

It was magical.

I loved to read as a kid because books don’t care who you are or what you look like. You can be anyone you want to be.

I cut my hair short this year for the very first time in my adult life after years of having long, straight, dark brown hair (“Asian” hair) that often fell past my waist (fuck the patriarchy). Three weeks ago, I bleached it.

Today, I realized I’ve become Ponyboy after he bleaches and cuts his hair in the movie to disguise himself after Johnny kills a Soc in self-defense.

Stay gold, bathroom selfie.

“Oh, Ponyboy, your hair . . . your tuff, tuff hair . . .” laments Soda.

Mind. Blown.

I thought that bleaching my hair was just a lark—why not, I thought, I’ve never dyed my hair before so why not now?

Little did I know.

Nostalgia rarely holds up with time. That’s why it’s best to keep it to yourself.

A few years ago, I made my friends watch the movie for my birthday at a park in Glendale at one of those outdoor screenings. I cringed (almost) the entire time. Note to self, the melodrama goes down easier when you are watching alone. If the audience tittered during Matt Dillon’s “Do it for Johnny!” speech, I’ve blocked it out of my memory, thank God.

I’ve had a crush on Matt Dillon ever since I watched the movie. Everyone has a crush on Matt Dillon in this movie. These are facts. But I know that I am not Dally—impossibly cool, dangerous—or Darry—responsible, hardworking—or Sodapop—easygoing, lovable—or Two-Bit or Steve or Johnny.

I am Ponyboy. Here’s why:

He’s a writer.

Score. I didn’t know when I first read the book that I would be a writer and look at me now—not at all successful, but occasionally quite prolific. Ponyboy narrates his life like he’s the character in a movie. He’s an observer, not a doer. He’s too sensitive for the world and he’s got his head in the clouds. He has no common sense to speak of and really shitty survival instincts.

He’s a procrastinator.

Oh, Lord. Yes, this is me. I’m literally procrastinating right now by writing this.

He’s not a hero.

Sometimes you have to accept your own personal limitations. You have to accept that you will not be the one to stab a Soc to save your friend. You will not be the character who sustains life-threatening injuries from running into a burning church full of screaming, cowering children. In theory, being a hero seems like an amazing idea. In practice, however—I’m not a brave person.

But he’s got amazing hair.

Let us take a moment to appreciate just how amazing it is.

Swoop! Swoop!
The two loose tendrils are a nice touch.

And an even better sense of style.

And by “sense of style” I mean I already dress like this all the time. Behold Ponyboy Curtis, a true fashion icon.

I literally own this grey hoodie.
And here’s the proof.
I need this cutoff sweatshirt look in my life.
Do I also own this shirt, it is possible that I do.

My entire life has been leading up to this moment. I wondered for a long time how to start this Medium story, how to start writing about something that was important to me. And I finally began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Matt Dillon and a ride home . . .

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