When I was approaching my senior year, I remember logging onto my computer to begin the search for scholarship applications. I found myself on the Ole Miss admissions page. The website was filled with generic photos of students studying in the grass and enjoying themselves in the library, and then I came across this photo of a group of girls walking to class. I thought to myself, "how funny. They look like a bunch of clones, having the same hair color and outfits, all fake laughing just for the photo." As I was about to point this coincidence out to my friend, I noticed my black Nike shorts and oversized T-shirt, resembling the clones in the photo.
That is when the thought entered my head, "am I just as guilty as the girls on the admissions website?" A rush of anxiety flooded my mind; the more I thought about it, the guiltier I was. From the blonde hairs on my head to the Birkenstock sandals under my feet, I was an admissions website girl. Was this really true?
Could I really be one of those basic white girls that society makes fun of? Basic is an adjective that I have been avoiding my entire life, yet here I am. Here are the five stages of discovering and eventually accepting that you are a "basic white girl."
Stage 1: Denial
There is no way. I am just psyching myself out. I began to scroll through my latest playlist on my phone for reassurance. I mean, I do have pretty great music taste. No one loves Drake — one of the most popular artists in rap, one of the most popular music genres at the time — as much as I love Drake. I continued to scroll through all of my guilty pleasure songs that are overplayed on the radio. How could this be? Even my music taste is basic.
Stage 2: Anger
In an attempt to get my mind off this awful matter, I got on Twitter. Maybe I could go through my favorites to cheer me up. I began to laugh at all the funny videos and memes and forget about why I was upset in the first place. Then I realized the name of the account that was bringing so much joy to my day: COMMON WHITE GIRL. I turned my phone off and could feel my face turning red with anger. Is there anything original about me?
Stage 3: Bargaining
I started getting desperate. I began digging for anything about myself that would set me apart from your average teenage girl. I play volleyball, along with thousands of other teenage girls. I enjoy writing, but that is probably one of the most basic interests one can have. For hours, I searched for anything to prove to myself that I was not basic, but I came up with nothing. I questioned everything. Why God? Why would you let my worst fear come true? I questioned my parents; how could they raise me to become something like this? No parent would be proud. This could not be. There is no way that I am basic.
Stage 4: Depression
I had always teased my sister for conforming to the ways of your average college girl. And there I was, just as guilty as her, and I was still in high school! This could only get worse when I go to college. Soon enough, I will be amongst all the other generic girls at my college campus. This is one life sentence that I cannot escape. No matter how far or fast I run, I cannot avoid my future of becoming a cookie-cutter college girl. I had become very hopeless. I lost all interest in my everyday activities; how could I accomplish anything with this thought haunting me?
Stage 5: Acceptance
As I walked the halls of my school I could not help but stare at the girls who were different and not the stereotypical admissions website girl, like myself. Then I reached the final phase, acceptance. If I am happy at Ole Miss, then I should go to school at Ole Miss. If Nike shorts and oversized T-shirts make me happy, then I should wear them. If listening to Drake makes me happy, then I should listen to him. If all of my hobbies and interests make me "basic," at least I will basically be happy.
