My poor mom would try to make me wear a skirt or dress uniform but I preferred a pair of Dickies, a white collar shirt and one long ass un-combed ponytail, simplistic style. I was comfortable, but it wasn’t acceptable by most standards. I got teased for everything I did, no matter how hard I tried to be me. I didn’t fit the stereotype of a typical girl. I was into wrestling, collecting sports cards, playing basketball, and every kind of thing a boy my age was into. How did I manage to go to school everyday in the 4th grade dressed like a “boy” knowing I would be ridiculed mercilessly? I remember crying and running away from them while they laughed at me. Amidst all of that I remained true to myself, I continued to dress, behave, and believe just as I wanted. I never claimed to be perfect but I always claimed to be me. Little Ale believed in herself, she clung to the idea that there is no such thing as normal, she chose to march to the beat of her own drum. So why now, why in adulthood do I care about what people think of me? Is it insecurity? Why do I give up on things so easily? Is it complacency?
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