Henry Abbott

I’m sure most of you have heard the term “social construct” thrown around increasingly over the past few years. While I’m hopeful that scholarly analysis continues regarding race, gender, wealth and so on, I’m here to share my opinion on a phenomenon that always follows and constantly baffles me: popularity.

You might not know, but I was homeschooled until junior year of high school. People constantly warned, “You’ll be socially awkward,” “You won’t know how to interact,” “You’ll miss out.” Lies. I socialized with my peers through gymnastics, chess, diving and debate. And I socialized with adults. While some teens were drinking themselves to sleep before they could drive (shade), I befriended librarians, townspeople and Chipotle artisans daily. Their candid conversations spared me the anxiety of ordering food at restaurants or speaking with sales associates. I grew up blissfully unaware of teen social norms—until October 2021, when I enrolled at Trinity Prep.

After tearing the labrums in my shoulders, I quit gymnastics and enrolled at Trinity, a private school in Winter Park, Fla. When asked about the homeschool to private school whiplash, I always reply, “Have you seen Euphoria?” I was exposed to an unexpected amount of sex, drugs and chaos. While it was exciting to go to my first parties, I gradually became more aware of “the popular people,” just wealthy white people who were incestuous—picture any NESCAC sports team.

What was interesting, however, was that as I began to make more and more friends, people would gradually lump me in with “the popular people.” At first, I embraced the association! I get to go to parties! Yay! I get to do cool things! Slay! But slowly, as I spent more and more time away from my true friends, those not considered popular, the more I felt like a boring ass b-tch. Thankfully, I came to this realization and ditched the cliques because they really could not care less about me. To this day, the only people I keep in touch with are my weird girls, and we talk a lot.

This brings me to the present! Bowdoin! If you know me, you know how I love to chit-chat, and because of this, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting at least 20 of you. Even from my first semester, when I would greet people in Thorne, those around me would say, “Omg, you know everyone,” “Omg, you’re so popular,” and my answer to that is always, “Sure?”

I understand that I’m friends with lots of people. However, my perception of the term “popular” has always been tainted with an aura of exclusivity, and I’m just not an exclusive person. In high school, the “popular people” went out of their way to separate themselves from the rest of the school. They would only study, speak, hang out and be vulnerable with each other. It seemed as if popularity (and exclusivity) were objects that they had to maintain, lest they would fade away. I make a conscious effort to defy those tendencies as often as possible. I have such an aversion to being cliquey, so whenever I am lumped in with the cliques (by proxy of the word popular), I vomit a little in my mouth. I have many goals in life, but one of them is certainly not seeking popularity (chuckles); that’s just a label that has been placed upon me, a social construct. The purpose of my amicability is not to gain popularity; I’m here to use my voice, creativity and imagination while I still have them.

Speaking of those traits, I’ve found that the more authentic I am to myself, the more genuine my relationships with other people become. I’ll use Instagram, for example. Throughout high school especially, I was extremely anxious about the amount of engagement I would receive on my Instagram posts and stories. I tied my self-worth to online engagement, becoming guarded about what I shared.

At some point, I just stopped caring (chuckles), and now I post whatever I want, whenever I want. While my online engagement has decreased since high school, in reality, more people approach me to express how much they enjoy my more “provocative” content. I’ve found creative expression much more relieving when I consider people uninterested in me as “shedded layers.” I would never have been able to meet incredible people like Heldana Daniel ’24, Abdullah Hashimi ’27 or Imani Myers ’25 if I had continued to pander to people who didn’t appreciate me for who I am.

I refuse to cater to a soul (besides my parents), and that has not led to social isolation; on the contrary, I have connected with people who empathize with my yearning for independence. Basically, people only like me because I’m me, and people will only truly like you once you start being yourself (as long as you are not a Trump supporter).

With love (and Kombucha) from Seoul,

-Neiman

Neiman Mocombe is a member of the Class of 2026.

Abdullah Hashimi ’27 is a member of the Bowdoin Orient.