I remember the first time I put someone on a pedestal. It was the second grade, and I had sat next to a girl with the longest hair I had ever seen in the cutest outfit Limited Too had to offer. I immediately decided that she was the prettiest girl in the whole grade and almost instantly felt bad about myself.

I had tons of baby hairs that flew up and seemed to be pulled in the direction of the moon, or the sun, or whatever supernatural force that gave me endless frizz. The following year I had to glasses: a neon-flavored pink, the Barbie kind. Needless to say, putting people up around me on pedestals solely for the tameness of their hair and the lack of glass on their face was not uncommon.

Middle school was the worst, that weird age where some girls looked like literal supermodels and then you had me: awkward lanky height, before braces, glasses and all. I don't even want to talk about my hair at that point. Hint: puberty had gifted me not only frizzy hair but curly, frizzy hair. I was a walking Pom Pom.

I didn't solely put people up on pedestals for their looks or 20/20 vision, anyone that could walk carefree through math or science earned their spots higher than me in my mind. People with more friends, especially when that middle school "dating" season came into full bloom, that is where I lowered myself down beyond the Earth's core.

All of the movies and books talk about it, all of the songs and shows talk about it: love. The cheesy, teenage romance novel section at Barnes and Noble love. The exciting first moments, what the heck a kiss even felt like, and the joy of month-aversaries. Middle school time celebrated each month because four weeks was a long time to hold someone's hand and go to a movie theater with a group of your friends and convince your parents that you weren't going on a date.

I remember idealizing the thought of being in a relationship. I wanted to have a boyfriend so bad, just to say I had a boyfriend. Society, backed up by media, pushed me to want that at the horrible age of thirteen. Needless to say: I was single my seventh-grade year. No brushing of hands after dropping a binder full of loose-leaf papers, no little love notes hidden in my locker. Just frizzy hair, pink glasses, and a mouth full of braces.

The "J" in my Meyer Briggs type, ENFJ, stands for "judgment". I usually focus on the "F" for feelings, and I am someone who has a lot of feelings. It had never really occurred to me until recently that I had been building up other people around me so much higher while I had been breaking myself down. I'm openly insecure and simultaneously judgmental about, well, everything.

I think it's an unfortunate part of the human condition; the idea that we have to categorize and put people up on pedestals as if it was a natural thing to do. I find myself fighting for equality and yet I still find myself fighting to become a better person. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that statement, maybe self-improvement is a good thing, but right now, it seems like a contradiction more than anything else.

I work in an industry that's male dominated-- definitely not surprising because nearly every industry is male dominated. I want to be equal and just as capable as other designers and technicians, but I also want to surpass them with my so called talent and drive. And then, of course, there is always someone better and more ambitious than me waiting in the wings. Which is fine, that's normal. Another pedestal to add to a mountain.

Except, I don't want to continually be working towards being better than someone - I want to work towards making an impact around me. I want to knock down the trophy cases I've put people in and just see the world with humans as humans and not "better than me" humans.

I'm not sure where I'll go with the competitive nature I've created in my life, but I hope I can separate between what I think of people and the reality of who people are. I'm sick of working to be better than someone else, but I can't wait to start working to make things better for other people. I'm shifting my intentions and purpose for my actions by knocking down one pedestal at a time. Goodbye trophy case, hello humanity.