It has been a few days since I’ve blogged, and the reason being is the end of the summer semester. Meaning, finals, finals, and exams. Even though I’m finishing online with University of Colorado Denver (I moved to DMV from Denver,) online classes still take a lot of work.
But now that finals are behind me, I can sit here and blog. It feels so good to sit down, listen to some dreamwave, and let my fingers stroke the keyboard of my Macbook Pro as I say hello to my blog, and allow myself to begin rambling. So what’s on my mind today? Well, the art of being a hipster and how I apparently fit into that category.
Up until recently, never in my life had I been referred to as a hipster. Most of the time I was just that eccentric tall chick who had a villainous laugh (I have many laughs, but one sounds cute + evil), yet could warm the room with my charm and witty spirit. Being labeled as “different” is something I’ve heard a lot, especially from most of the men that I’ve encountered in my dating adventures.
Yet, lately a lot of men (primarily some close-minded Black men) have been calling me a “hipster” and they just don’t understand it. I’m not “Black” enough and my tastes are far from the mainstream ( I rarely listen to hip-hop unless its oldschool,) which prompts them to place me into a hipster category (the only thing they can at least label me as.)
Me? A hipster? Hmmm…I never viewed myself as a hipster, I just viewed myself as just Jazz. But of course, when people are encountered with someone who’s taste and approach to life is different from theirs, they either must attribute that individual to some type of social category and/or make fun of them (which happened to me a lot in middle school and high school.) But you’d think that as adults people would learn to look past stereotypes and labeling, but I guess that’s not the case. Oh, and I’m not over-generalizing the situation. Seriously, 90% of the Black men I’ve encountered as of late think I’m “weird” and feel that house is techno (even though they never listened to house) or it’s music for gay people (wow, no comment). SMH…such ignorance.
I could easily go on and on about the ignorance I encounter, but then I wake up and realize that hey, perhaps I am a hipster. And since we are labeling, I am actually a “Black Hipster.” I wear big glasses, I love indie bands, I reflect on the meaning of life when listening to chillwave, sometimes I’m anti-Starbucks and love small cafes, and my clothing style is a mixture of vintage, Converse, flats, skinny jeans, weird patterns, and whatever the hell I feel like wearing.
So am I hipster? Sure, call me that if you want. Am I eccentric + eclectic? Absolutely. But at the end of the day, I’m just Jazz and I’m having a hell of a time being me. Whether I’m appreciating the mainstream or paying homage to the 1940s and cruising the sounds of swing music, I’m just off in my own beautiful world of eclectic discoveries.