Being the School’s Resident Emo
It was a tough life, but someone had to do it
Urban Dictionary: Emo kid
“TRUE EMO was most likely emo before this was a stupid fad. Probably classified by friends and others as “emo”…the label is often not self-professed in the case of the true emo kid. Doesn’t give a shit whether music is mainstream or not…it just has to be artistic.”
The year is 2012, school corridors are masked with the odour of ‘Charlie-Red’, people are playing ‘Wild Ones’ by Flo Rida through their MP3s and showing off their new Gola schoolbags. Life is good, for most people.
Having gone to an all-girls grammar school in South-East of Kent, being ‘alternative’ meant you stood out like a sore thumb. Whilst other girls wore the latest Hollister and Superdry on non-uniform days, I rocked up wearing black and white stripy knee- high socks, Converse, ripped denim shorts and a ‘My Chemical Romance’ band tee… good God.
To go with my freshly purchased outfit (which would look really cool hanging out at the bus station after school), I doused myself in the palest Vampire shade of Maybelline mousse, topped off with some Amy Winehouse- inspired eyeliner flicks, a nose ring (a real one because I was a dedicated, of course) and some box-dyed ‘electric blue-black’ hair, straightened within an inch of its life.
Not only was my emo phase represented in clothing and makeup, it somehow manifested itself into my diet. For reasons unknown, ‘Monster’, that outrageously sugar-ridden energy drink, was all the rage for a young emo. The neon black and green can, stood out from a mile away, making sure horrified peers could see that yes, you were in fact drinking a half litre can of energy drink for breakfast and no, no one could stop you. After all, nothing screams edgy like sugar endorsed panic attacks and rotting teeth…
Anyway. I soon made a group of friends in the year above me (it is so last year having friends your own age). It wasn’t long before we were bluetoothing ‘blackparade_mp3’ to each other during lunch, drinking Monster and giving each other D.I.Y piercings just to spite our parents.
I then found a boyfriend in the local emo circles (he was older than me, 15, so I really thought I’d snapped up a bad boy) … hmm. Weekends were spent perfecting each other’s combovers and painting our nails black. Who said romance was dead? Every so often we would even get the opportunity to master headbanging and moshing in the gigs put on at local village hall. Monster, the drink of choice, was supplied.
Joking aside, going through this phase in my appearance was genuinely a difficult time. I was often excluded from social groups in school, my parents were extremely concerned for me and I exposed myself to people who were toxic for both my mental health and overall wellbeing. This period of my life gave me a thicker skin and an understanding about how it feels to be ‘on the outside’. Although I was part of a big group outside of school, I was lonely. These people weren’t friends, they were acquaintances, who just happened to dress the same as me.
On top of this battle with depression and social rejection, physical bullying was a frequent occurrence away from the safety of school grounds. Despite the desperate pleads from my parents not to hang out in dodgy parks and bus stations after school, I carried on. This led me to many evenings of being harassed by local crowds, who simply didn’t like the way we looked. This was the most ridiculous part about it for me; we were normal people, despite the exterior style, just ordinary kids who didn’t deserve the abuse we received.
A lot has changed since then. From saving up my lunch money to buy the latest issue of Kerrang! magazine, smothering my bedroom walls with band posters (to my mum’s utmost annoyance) and scribbling heartfelt lyrics onto diaries with a Sharpie. My interior décor now screams ‘Urban Outfitters Spring Catalogue’ with sunny yellow walls and an abundance of cacti. The skin-tight jeans and muddy Converse have been replaced with a more mature ‘tights and boots’ combo and the makeup has been toned down a notch. Luckily my friends and family didn’t disown me, and I managed to leave school with a set of great GCSEs and a minimal amount of emotional scarring, considering.
Whilst I am now very comfortable with finding humour amongst the tragedies of these confusing few years, it does raise concerns for the safety of my children in the future. Will they be shunned for expressing themselves through personal style or will the world have moved on in such a way that we can accept others for who they are?
One thing’s for sure — being a teenager is tough. You couldn’t pay me to live through it again. Struggling with physical and emotional changes alongside a lost sense of identity, all while trying to maintain relationships with those around you.
I look back and totally cringe to the core about my fashion and makeup choices but I hope teenagers in 2020 feel confident to explore the inevitable new trends.
(But please God, leave the combovers in 2012)
