I love emo kids

My friend Crystal gave me my first (and only) iPod for my birthday and Christmas in 2009. I'm writing this essay and compiling this playlist to say THANK YOU! This is still the best gift I've ever received. I know it's corny to say "the gift of music" but that's only part of what she gave me.

Along with music, she gave me my first tools of self-expression. She gave me my first steps towards self-acceptance and self-love.

Crystal and I met in the cafeteria of Weddington High School the year before. I was in the habit of bumming a dollar or two from anyone who could spare it so that I could buy a treat at lunch. It made me feel normal to wait in line, pick whatever overpriced school lunch food I wanted, sit at the table and laugh. One of these days I waited behind Crystal. She looked like the coolest person I'd ever seen. After coyly making eye contact I finally exclaimed, "I LOVE EMO KIDS!" We became close friends over the next couple years and laughed about the abrupt start to our relationship.

Looking back, I see my exclamation as the first time I recognized my want to express myself. My need to belong, and to perform that belonging. Now I can listen to the music I want, wear the clothes I want, write essays about how I identify to post on the internet, but back then I only had a moment in the lunch line. I love emo kids. I am emo. I love myself.

I turned sixteen. The details of my life didn't make sense, and I won't cut myself open and bleed into this essay to prove it to you; I'm just going to ask you to believe me. I was severely emotionally abused. Every day I returned home from school, sat in an empty room with the blinds closed, stared into space, and imagined a better life for myself. Just like any other teen, I didn't have the words to express what I saw in the world around me. I knew that there was something indescribably sour about my existence, but at the time the worldview of an abused child was all I knew. "Teen angst" has become a cultural trope, and society is too quick to label a powerless youth as "emo" or "a problem child."

Maybe I was emo. But now I look back and say that with my tongue in my cheek, with my teeth bared. Looking at me as a teen, no one would have suspected.

When I was in high school, I wasn't able to dress the way I wanted to. My parents picked my clothes out every day, and even used the clothes I was forced to wear as a punishment: for an entire semester I was forced to wear a yellow t-shirt with the words, "I'm a freaking ray of sunshine" printed across the chest. It was an ironic punishment designed to mock my inability to display neurotypical expressions of human emotion. I didn't look like an emo kid. I didn't listen to emo music, I didn't wear black, I didn't grow out my hair or experiment with eye-liner. I wasn't allowed to have an identity and had no tools to express myself.

When Crystal handed me a small gift-wrapped box before first period she told me to wait until we were together at lunch to open it....or not. Of course, I couldn't resist unwrapping it in third period. I very carefully removed the paper, prised open the box, and saw a red iPod with Crystal's inscribed name covered with carefully matched nail polish.

My access to music was very strictly controlled by my parents, so the iPod brought a burst of joy that filled my whole body. Then I read the letter inside the box--Crystal knew how important this gift was to me. Then the joy evaporated and my heart fell down to my knees: there was no way for me to own this gift. My parents would never let me keep it. I almost cried, but steeled myself. I pretended to open it for the first time in front of Crystal at lunch, but couldn't feel the pure joy it had brought me in third period. My inability to share that moment of pure joy with Crystal is one of my biggest regrets.

However, I took the iPod home in a Ziploc bag and hid it in the lining under my bed. My sister and I passed it covertly under our alarmed doors, sharing the moments of joy we now had access to. It was the first time we had listened to emo music, rock music, modern indie music. The bright screen and hard plastic in our ears transported us away from the gloom of our reality.

One day, my dad did find the iPod. I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth--that the iPod was mine, a gift--so I lied. I said I was borrowing it from a friend and would return it. I don't remember what happened to the iPod, but that was the last significant memory I have with it. I must have given it back to Crystal.

I only had the iPod for a few months, but in the worldview of an abused teen those few months were impactful and formative. I know without these songs I wouldn't be who I am now, at the very least.

For this playlist, I wanted to remember the first songs I listened to, how I felt when I listened to them, and how much I've grown since then. Each of these songs changed my life for the better. Some of the songs I listened to on the iPod Crystal gave me, some of them I listened to on the iPods of other friends during lunch, and some of them have been formative at other times in my life.

Now I look back at my younger self kneeling on the carpet, hiding behind the bed so I could hide my joy if someone walked in on me. Now I say YOU DON'T HAVE POWER OVER ME ANY MORE to the adults who harmed me as a child. Now I remember how hard I have fought to become the person I am today, and allow myself to feel proud of the work I've done. I'm so damn proud and I'm not afraid to say it out loud. Now I say, I LOVE EMO KIDS. I LOVE EMO KIDS. I LOVE EMO KIDS!