The Rebellion Handbook (PG-13 Edition)
There is an unspoken contract in public spaces. You act like you are invisible, and everyone else will politely ignore that you exist.
It is safe. Predictable. And boring as hell.
I used to be an expert at it. I could slip through a grocery store, a gym, a bar, and barely make a ripple. My personal goal was to be forgettable in under ten seconds. I thought that was a win.
Then one day, I decided not to play along.
The Grocery Store Aisle
It was just a regular Tuesday. I had a half-formed shopping list in my head and the same grocery store playlist I had heard a thousand times. Then it happened. They played that song. You know the one. The one you have not heard in years but could sing start to finish without missing a beat.
I could have kept it to myself. I could have hummed along quietly and maybe tapped the cart handle in time with the chorus. That is what polite people do. They contain the joy and keep it small.
Instead, I started singing.
Not a full-on concert, but loud enough that the woman comparing oatmeal boxes looked over and smiled. A guy halfway down the aisle nodded along to the beat. I did not stop. By the time I hit the chorus, it was impossible to pretend I was not there.
Here is the wild part. No one gave me the side-eye. No one asked me to stop. A couple of people even sang along. I finished my shopping grinning, not because I sounded good (I did not) but because I felt free.
Why We Obey This Rule
We are trained young. Do not draw attention. Do not be loud. Do not be the reason someone notices you for the wrong thing.
That fear does not usually come from reality. It comes from every little correction we have gotten over the years:
“Use your inside voice.” “Do not wear that, it is too much.” “You are making a scene.”
So we sand down the edges. We trade color for beige. We live like background characters in our own lives.
The truth is that most people are too wrapped up in their own mental clutter to give your singing, your laugh, or your grocery store dance more than a passing thought. And the ones who do notice will survive.
What Happened After
Breaking Rule #1 did not change my life overnight. But it did something.
That day, I noticed I stood a little taller walking out of the store. My shoulders were not hunched in “do not look at me” mode. I was not replaying the scene in my head to see if I had embarrassed myself. I just existed. And it felt good.
That is the part no one tells you about making a scene. It is not about other people remembering you. It is about you remembering yourself.
Making a Scene Without Being That Person
When I say “make a scene,” I am not telling you to start a fight in the produce section. I am talking about giving yourself permission to be visible when you would normally fade out.
It can be as small as:
Laughing with your whole chest in a room full of polite chuckles Wearing the thing you have been saving for a special occasion that never comes Asking the question out loud instead of searching it on your phone under the table Owning your awkward moment instead of scrambling to erase it
It is not about manufacturing drama. It is about showing up as the unedited version of yourself and letting the world deal with it.
The Risk (and Why It Is Worth It)
Will someone judge you? Maybe. But you get judged anyway. You get judged for being quiet, for blending in, for playing small.
The real risk is not that someone sees you. It is that you get so good at hiding, you forget what it is like to take up space at all.
Your Turn
This week, I want you to break Rule #1 on purpose.
It does not have to be singing in a grocery store. It does not have to be public at all. Just do something visible enough that you feel the small internal click of “I can do this.”
Worst case, it is forgotten before anyone finishes their drink.
Best case, you remember it long after.
And maybe, without meaning to, you give someone else permission to stop whisper-laughing and start living a little louder.
