As I sit at my laptop and write this, I arbitrarily pick away at my bowl of salad. A salad that I had just spent a rough fifteen minutes making. Its contents include the following: lettuce, red onion, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and tomato.

Growing up, I had always been a lover of salads. A traditional Greek, Caesar, or Italian could always satisfy. But, since I could remember, there was one ingredient that I could not stand: tomato.

It didn’t matter if I was eating a cheeseburger, sub, or a salad. I wouldn’t eat them. I could handle oysters, mushrooms, and brussel sprouts, but could not bear the thought of that bright-red, fruit-vegetable hybrid.

So then, it may seem odd that the salad that I currently enjoy contains that exact ingredient. The one I had always plucked out of my meals if ever present. Well, it started around the time I was in the fifth grade. I was roughly ten years old when I broke the big news to myself: big girls eat tomatoes.

I found it childish, to refuse a dish simply because it contains a vegetable. It just wasn’t something a grown-up would do. So, now that I was getting older, I knew that tomatoes would have to become a part of my diet. Whether we liked each other or not.

I was very strategic about how I integrated them. It started simple enough, I’d begun ordering them in my sandwiches. Eventually, I’d started ordering them in my salads– albeit they were diced super small. And though I’d still cringe the minute I felt its mushy and awkward texture, I’d grin and bear it. Because in my mind, that’s what a big girl would do.

Eventually, I stepped it up: larger pieces– very much shielded by a creamy Italian or ranch. Then, the dressing became a little less. And the pieces were no longer cut so fine.

And one day, enough time passed to where I gave the slimy texture no mind and the bright red became a regular sight within my salad bowls.

I am assuming you’ve read the title, so if you have, you may have been waiting for when the social commentary begins. Well here’s the general metaphor: a lot of the time, we force things we don’t like. Things we normally wouldn’t say or do often become part of our daily lives out of the fear of not fitting in.

Like with me and tomatoes, the change is so minor at first. Maybe it’s letting a word you don’t normally use pass your lips. Maybe it’s you spending time with a group you never would’ve pictured yourself around.

I think that conformity in today’s society is a much larger issue than let on– especially among teenagers. A lot of the time, people expect a specific group to act a certain way. Phrases like, “You don’t act black” or “You’re so boyish” often stem from these stereotypes.

I think what we need to preach to each other instead is that we are enough; there is no right or wrong way to be yourself. Own your identity.

As I wrap this up, I will have finished eating my salad. I plan to take the bowl to the kitchen, rinse it off, and place it in the dishwasher. But before that, I’ll remember to throw away the tomatoes that sit at the bottom. Red, mushy, and thoroughly disgusting.