In every family and friend group lies a black sheep -- someone who is different from the rest, in both appearance and personality. And if you don't have one in your family, chances are, you are one, and that is definitely not a bad thing.

Throughout many years of get-togethers, parties and just simply watching my family and relatives grow older, I have come to learn that I stand out out in more ways than one. My fashion sense can be considered bold and over-the-top, my personality is boisterous and eccentric, my sense of humor is sarcastic and vulgar, and my music taste is all about electronic dance music, EDM.

As I was growing up, I found myself not having much in common with my relatives and it would be difficult to start conversations with them aside from the usual, "How's everything been?" I didn't have the same conservative style, traditional attitude or even the same taste in underground indie/rock band music as my aunts, uncles and cousins. So, as a result, we only talked about when school breaks were, how I was doing in my classes and if I was enjoying them. At times, out of boredom, I would try spicing up the conversation with a slightly risqué joke to intentionally cross the line and break the monotony of the usual political banter, but never got a positive reaction out of it. Internally, I would beat myself up over the fact that I was different and sometimes wished that I wasn't myself so I could at least find something in common to talk about with my relatives.

However, after a few venting sessions with my mom and dad, and after years of more repetitious family parties, I learned to accept my unique self and embrace my edge. I realized if there wasn't a black sheep in the family, things would be too boring.

After overcoming what seemed like a minor obstacle in life, it slowly fluctuated into a bigger issue when I started college two years ago. Because I went to a public high school, there were always various personalities and judgments were kept to a minimum. I always found it easy to be my true self and express myself through my fashionable sense of style. But becoming the black sheep at a small, private college that was mainly inhabited by preppy Long Islanders became an even more difficult challenge to face.

I remember walking through the dining hall to meet my friends with all eyes on me, guys and girls examining me from head to toe, and the girls whispering to each other and looking at me as if I had done something wrong. I never knew what I had done to these people to deserve such horrible looks. But it didn't take me long before I realized my mistake: I wasn't wearing Vineyard Vines or Lily Pulitzer, I wasn't strutting around the school in my J.Crew sweaters and khakis or Sperrys.

I was a girly girl who could rock black, high waisted, skinny jeans with a cute pink crop top from Charlotte Russe and regularly wore large silver hoop earrings. On the other hand, I was also a girl who could wear her favorite red, Breathe Carolina band tee-shirt, gray Vans, and a black leather snapback. I was fun and outgoing. I may have talked and laughed a little too loud with a larger-than-life, charismatic personality; but I wasn't afraid to hold my head high when I felt the crown slipping off. And that is what got me in trouble.

I became a target at school. I was a target for disgusting rumors and false judgments because I stood out. I remember the students coming up to me and asking me if what they heard about me was true; I remember the relationships I lost and the budding friendships that slowly crumbled away; I remember the extremely repulsive and explicit posts about me on social media, and the breakdowns I would have on the phone with my mom, crying my eyes out, begging her to let me transfer somewhere closer to home where I felt it would be easier to live my life.

But I took a risk, and I gave it a second chance. I gave everyone who purposely defamed me a second chance and returned for my second year of college, but this time, with thicker skin. And although the negative past remarks and rumors still lingered, I felt stronger and bolder than ever.

Now, I did not write this article for pity. I wrote this for all the black sheep at school or in the family; the people who feel like they don't belong, or are constantly tortured and criticized for being the odd one out. The experiences you encounter will prepare you for the future, and no one can hurt you unless you let them. Sometimes, you have to go through a few thunderstorms to appreciate the sunshine.

Therefore, be the black sheep. Be the one who takes risks and stands up for those too afraid to be themselves out of fear of the way others will look at them. Start the revolution of a judgement-free society. Start the revolution of the black sheep.