We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up. We weren’t poor exactly…
We were fed and clothed and took the yearly family road trip. But what we did buy we were stuck with for a while. There were no do-overs when it came to clothes or shoes.
I remember my dad taking me shopping because softball season was starting soon. Cleats were part of the required softball uniform and I am sure that we ended up at Meijer’s that day to get the essentials. We were living in Michigan at this time (I was born and spent the first 12 years of my life in MI).
I remember suffering through the endless grocery shopping that needed to be done just so we could just get to the aisle that had sports equipment. Finally we made it.
There were rows and rows of black cleats. They were not leather. They were not expensive. They were not even that well made. But they were what was available at this mass market retailer at the time back in the early 80′s.
And suddenly in that never-ending sea of black, I spied a flash of orange. What was this? I gingerly retrieved a pair of orange cleats. The last pair they had (or maybe the only, I will never know).
They were different. They were beautiful! It took me at least 20 minutes to convince my dad to let me get them. He must have somehow channeled his inner sixth grade girl because he surely tried 100 ways to reason with me and convince me to go with the black….At least 100 times. He must of known what was to come.
But I was having none of it. I wanted those orange cleats. It must have been fate that they were in my size. I was determined. They were the coolest shoes I had ever seen, I probably thought to myself. I really had to have them.
So like any father who loves his daughter and supports her sixth grade independence, he threw them in the cart. And of course I quickly took them back out and carried them all the way to the checkout, much like one would carry a newborn baby.
I couldn’t wait for the first practice.
The day finally arrived and we all suited up. I heard some snickers in the locker room but it wasn’t until I made it to the field that someone said the words that have stayed with me the rest of my life, “Those are the ugliest shoes I have ever seen.”
It was as if a dam broke in tweenland. I was teased mercilessly….made fun of constantly. I would do everything I could to leave those orange cleats at home and not wear them to practice or games. I was benched for wearing tennis shoes after “forgetting” my cleats at home. I would even play sick from school so I didn’t have to go to practice.
I attempted to take a marker and color over them several times but we had no Sharpie(s) back then. The marker washed off at each practice, exposing the orange glow.
I may have failed to mention earlier that this was at a Catholic school where there was a clear division of class. Those that had money and those that (we..us…me) did not. We wore uniforms to school and while there were not many opportunities to be different, you still knew who had money and who did not from our clothing. This scholarship student only wanted to fit in at the time. And as a lower income, sixth grade girl teetering on the brink of puberty, fitting in was not all easy for me.
Those orange cleats made my life hell for as long as my feet fit in them. Each day I grew to hate them a little more. I let some girls whose names and faces I cannot even remember now convince me that I now hated something that I was immediately drawn to….something that I had absolutely loved.
I thought that those cleats screamed I was poor when in fact they showed I was different, that I had personality. Instead of going with the pack, I was an individual. But that year, I let those girls convince me that I was not an individual; I let them convince me that I needed to be like them. I needed to be part of the pack, a conformist.
To this day I am still annoyed with myself for all those unresolved feelings about the orange cleats. To this day, I really don’t like the color orange; but I am a shoe and clothing lover. I hoard shoes. Beautiful, well made shoes. None of them orange, mind you, but I love me some shoes nonetheless.
Fast forward to 2011.
Today I took my son shopping for shoes. He is eight going on 16 and has definite opinions on what he wants to wear. We let him pick out the majority of his clothing. Well from his closet anyway. I enjoy seeing his personality shine through. In fact, I love it!
He needed tennis shoes and ran off to the section with the boys tennis shoes. Have I mentioned his favorite color? Orange… bright, glowing, beautiful orange. I see his little head poking over the rows going down shoe by shoe. Looking at what was available and weighing his options.
Finally he screamed, “I found them. I found MY shoes. I LOVE THEM!”
“Try them on first and then come show them to us” I say to him over the rows as I help his sisters find shoes.
He comes running over, as fast as he can, a little out of breath and says, “LOOK AT HOW AWESOME THESE ARE!!!!”
And for just a few seconds I have a flashback….a bad flashback.
The look on my face must have startled him because he said, “What’s wrong? You don’t like them?”
And his face fell.
I had to stifle the urge to tell him to get what everyone else is wearing. To get what all of the little boys at his school wear. I saw those kinds of shoes everywhere. But I bit my tongue instead of telling him to go with the pack.
Because the pack is crap.
Because if someone is going to make fun of him for the shoes he wears, then that someone doesn’t deserve to be his friend or a part of his life.
Because my son is creative. He is intelligent. He is wonderful. He is just an all around fabulous kid. I could gush for days.
Because damn it, if my kid wants orange shoes, he should have orange shoes.
So I did what I had to do. I knelt down, looked him in the eyes and said, “These are about the coolest shoes in this entire place. I cannot imagine a more perfect pair for you. Mommy was just having gas pains.” I smiled and I meant it. I ruffled his hair as he took off to run around.
“I am pretty sure that these shoes make me run much faster” he said excitedly.
I am pretty sure I just did the right thing I thought to myself.
And I am seriously considering getting myself a pair of orange shoes.
Seriously.
About Stacie
Love this post and the shoes! I may borrow your quote, “the pack is crap,” to use once my little one grows up and wants to conform like I so desperately wanted to as a scholarship kid growing up in a private school world. I could tell you some stories about what I showed up wearing on non-uniform day. I will never forget the agony, but at least now I can laugh about it
Thanks Titania! Definitely borrow the quote.
I enjoyed reading this. Lessons we all need to remember.
Thanks Sue!
I love it, Stacie. Your post gave me flashbacks of sixth grade, the day I accidentally wore my shirt backwards. I think sixth grade is a preview of hell.
Did he get teased about his shoes? I hope not.
Yep. Sixth grade was definitely brutal.
He did not get teased at all. In fact, a few people told him how cool they were.
Visiting from SITS and loved this post! I think you need a pair of orange shoes in your closet. . .
Thanks Louise. I think that you are right!!
Stacie- this brought tears to my eyes! I can relate to you in so many ways. I can remember the sting of not being accepted and fear that for my children as well. Kids can be so mean and it would hurt me terribly if my children were to get picked on for making choices that made them happy. I want my children to be their own people and to not go with the pack- even at times it can be easier to do so. Its hard to not try to influence their choices because of the consequences we know can follow. As hard as it is, its important as parents to let them be themselves and not let our past experiences effect their choices. Much easier said than done- this I know! Love this post.
I love this. My heart breaks for your 6th grade self and how hard that must’ve been. I am glad you did not try to stifle your son. There are much more important lessons to teach than running with the pack. Happy SITS day!
Yay for orange shoes! My seventh grader has a bright orange pair of Vans and my eight year old has a bright reddish orange pair.
I think you should definitely get yourself another pair and rock them with pride!
Happy SITS Day!
I think your son was fine, boys don’t get teased or taunted like girls right? Sorry you had to go through that.
Red ribbons, saddle shoes, poufy dresses when slim cuts are in, jeans that weren’t Levis – these were all my orange shoe faux pas that I was taunted for through my growing up years. They leave an impression – and make one glad to not give a *##@! anymore. Great post.
You are a really good mom! What a great response.
This was like reading a page from my own story. Oh, I wish I could go back in time and talk to that timid little 6th grade girl that was me. I would tell her just what she really was – funny, smart, talented, creative.
What a great story. All we want to do as kids (and even as adults) is to fit in – and sometimes that conflicts with our individuality. I’m glad you let your son get his orange kicks and here’s to him for loving them so!
Stopping by from SITS!
I loved hearing about your orange shoes. I hope your son doesn’t get teased like you did. You’re right. The pack is crap. I’m glad your son is different, Embrace all differences!!!
Happy SITS Day!
I love stand out colors too and I used to wear a mask of confidence when I was the opposite growing up and would allow people to manipulate me. Gosh.
It’s nice to see girls growing up with so much strength today.
My kids are so much more confident than I was as a tween/teen. I hope that it reflects my parenting skills and not just the fact that I was an insecure, goofy, braces wearing, glasses wearing outsider.
I wish I had a pair of orange shoes as cool as those… I had the opposite problem in middle school. I could never fall in love with a pair of shoes and then go out and buy them because I mostly wore hand-me-downs, which means that I only got to wear what someone else thought was cool. I’m glad your son is bold enough and fortunate enough to wear just what he wants to wear…
oh, and Happy SITS day!
I saw you featured on SITS, and I’m so glad I stopped by to read! This was a great post, and I can totally relate. In middle school, I asked my parents for a bright yellow down jacket. I was convinced that it was a stylish piece that I HAD to have. Well, I got my coat. I loved it! Looking back, I’m pretty sure I looked like Big Bird, but I didn’t care. I think you absolutely did the right thing in encouraging your son’s own sense of style and creativity! The pack is definitely c.r.a.p.
What a beautiful story. This part really stood out, “‘I am pretty sure that these shoes make me run much faster’ he said excitedly. I am pretty sure I just did the right thing I thought to myself.” You did. And I applaud your courage, and your support of your boy’s innocent enthusiasm. He’ll remember that you stood by him.
That. Is. Awesome. I love that you stepped back and let him be HIM and get what he loved. I hope they don’t cause him as much grief as yours cost you, but even if he did, I know you could help him deal with it.
What a story! So sorry you had to go through that back then. We do just about anything to fit in don’t we. But you learned from that experiance and now you can pass on that wisdom to your children.
I’m so glad your son has a mom like you who is helping him and allowing him to be his creative self!
You should totally go for it and get yourself a pair of beautiful orange shoes!
WOW… what an amazing story. And how shocking that the shoes are so similar.
I just saw this post in a RT. I loved it. I found myself relating to so much- from being from Michigan to buying cleats at Meijer. I did that. And I remember picking out eccentric items of clothing to wear only to later feel self conscious and in turn- loathe the clothing. What a great post- really and truly. So relatable!
What a small world. I used to love Meijer when I lived there. It used to be called Meijer’s Thrifty Acres. Do you remember that by any chance?
I love the Orange and totally agree “The Pack is crap” So happy to see another mom who supports her child’s individualism and I know will you support him no matter what.
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