Essay: Sometimes People Don't Like the Things You Like...
I grew up a country music fan. Born in the early eighties, a teen in the 90s, while everyone else was wild over Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys, and Britney, I was listening to Paul Brandt, Reba McEntire, George Strait, Alan Jackson. I got used to being the odd one out when it came to music. People would tell me how my music was “too whiny” and crack endless “dead dog” jokes. Some even made crosses with their fingers and hissed at me like I was a vampire for loving my country music. What did I do? I doubled down. I held my head high and dared them to name me all these “dead dog” songs (never could), proudly listed happy country songs when they asked for examples, and quietly gloated when I caught them cranking up King of the Road or singing along to Johnny Cash. Later on, I started studying Tae Kwon Do, and everything was familiar. People who had never trained a day enjoyed telling me how “useless” my martial art was. How no one in UFC ever used Tae Kwon Do moves, so clearly it was ...