When I was a kid, I loved to play Barbies. For me, it was about playing out my perceived glamorous reality of adulthood – the careers, the romances, the interior decorating, the children – that I couldn’t get enough of. I’d meticulously select which dolls and accessories I’d be playing with, setting up elaborate homes for these fabulous female leaders who would inevitably kick Ken to the curb (primarily because we only had two Ken dolls and an Aladdin, so we needed to share).
When I was about 9 years old, I discovered that playing Barbies wasn’t “cool.” It was considered babyish among my school friends, so I pretended I didn’t like it either and was ready for cooler, more mature things like the other girls at school. But, secretly, I still loved my Barbies and I ached for friends to play them with. Then, in an act of vulnerability, I found out my friend Jess still liked them too. So, we secretly played with our Barbies together for a few more years, promising never to tell anyone else. Jess and I have been friends our entire lives, and this is one of the solidifying moments of our friendship that has ensured its long tenure.
It’s funny how early in life we learn that what we enjoy is not just subject to the critique of others, that it can threaten or champion our sense of belonging. Whether it’s the popular girls getting braces or the influencer wearing Airpods, we learn early on to look to the cool kids to signal what’s acceptable to like. And, if we don’t like something on the list of acceptable interests, we learn to keep it to ourselves, because, far more important than our personal preferences is our ability to fit in.
What a terrible life lesson.
A couple of years ago, I went to one of those multi-level marketing sales parties where the product for sale was boutique wine. As we prepared to taste a selection of wines, the rep leading the tasting laid out some ground rules. The one that has stuck with me was this: “Don’t ‘yuck’ someone’s ‘yum.’” Meaning, if someone else likes it and you don’t, it’s not your job to make sure they know you don’t. Let people like what they like. Revolutionary.
Colleen Cook works full-time as the Director of Operations at Vinyl Marketing in Ashland, where she resides with her husband Mike and three young daughters. She’s an insatiable extrovert who enjoys finding reasons to gather people.
As young children, we learn that what we like is a direct reflection of who we are, and if we like the wrong things, we risk losing the respect of our peers. We’ve carried that awful lesson with us into adulthood, judging people who don’t conform in the ways we’ve conformed. You buy that brand? You shop at that store? You vote for that party? You eat that food? You read that author? … Well, I guess that tells us who you are and that clears up whether or not I can respect or like you.
What if we turned it on its head and gave people space to like what they like? What would it look like if we allowed ourselves to like what we like first, freely and openly, resilient against any criticism?
If we let go of concern about what we and others enjoy, I believe that a lot of shame and brokenness would melt away. If we allowed ourselves to embrace what we love without concern for the opinions of others, I believe we’d be more open to embracing those around us. We’d enjoy those things more, and be open to trying new things too. We’d know ourselves better, we’d like ourselves more, and we wouldn’t need to judge or ostracize others to protect our places in our social circles.
We’d raise our kids to be open to exploring what their friends like, too. We’d keep them open to new experiences, unconcerned with the social impact and resilient from shame that lies to them and tells them they’re broken for liking something uncool, that if anyone finds out the truth about them, it’s all over. We’d teach them to be real friends that embrace the uniqueness and quirkiness of the people in their lives and they’d be rewarded with good friends who embrace them back. We’d let them play Barbies as long as they had fresh ideas, until those exciting scenarios started to play out in their real lives.
