All right, I exaggerated, only two of my toes (the second and third counting from the big one) are webbed, on both feet. It runs in the family. When I was a kid, it made me feel so weird that I never went barefoot and gradually developed a perverse fear of being around bare feet. My friends got a kick out of setting my computer backgrounds to pictures of feet and watching me go into conniptions. Yes, since you all must be wondering, I did in fact eventually get over it – at age 19 – but I’d still rather you keep your socks on.
That’s my dirty little secret, and however strange, stupid or silly, admitting it feels good.
Undoubtedly, many of you have seen Northwestern Confessions on Facebook, now with about 1,200 followers. For those of you who haven’t, the idea is simple: People submit anonymous entries, the juiciest of which — by the standards of the unknown page admins — are then posted to the page for everyone to read. I am an avid reader myself and may or may not be the author of several posts. I highly recommend you check it out.
Though this is the first time I’ve participated in anything like it, the idea is hardly original; likes and comments on Confessions pages light up my Facebook feed from universities all over the country — high schools, too — and before all that was PostSecret. It’s easy to not take it seriously and just read for entertainment, but in between the people who take more than one piece of fruit from the dining hall, still don’t know where The Keg is (I have only a vague idea myself) and have had sex in every place imaginable, you’ll find a lot of things that might be less easy to stomach.
Don’t skip over them. They’re the important ones.
The number of people I know who think they’re perverts and freaks, the number of people who feel like nobody understands them even though they have lots of “friends,” the number of girls who have or have had eating disorders, the number of guys who have psychological problems and still keep a stiff upper lip — those are all higher than what most of us would suspect, especially those suffering through them. And I’m sure there are many people outside the stereotypes who are staying even quieter than the others. I never told people about my foot phobia until I was 17, and if telling people why you’re afraid of feet is hard, it doesn’t take much to imagine what telling somebody you’re bulimic is like, especially when, as I’ve read far too many times than I’d like, you’ve grown apart from your friends, feel like you don’t fit in and Counseling and Psychological Services totally sucks.
Northwestern Confessions may only be a Facebook page, but it’s given me a glimmer of hope. Alongside someone who feels like a freak for watching pornography, there’s someone who feels like a freak for having never been kissed. Alongside someone who feels alone in their dorm room every Friday, there’s someone who feels alone surrounded by people at a huge party. Alongside someone who tried to commit suicide, there’s someone with a parent dying from cancer. It’s easier to not feel like a freak if everyone else does, too. It’s easier to be alone when we’re not alone in being alone. And most importantly, it’s easier to cry if you can laugh at the same time.
Northwestern Confessions lets us scream and shout (and let it all out) but at the same time keep our identities hidden until we’re ready to make them known. So, here’s my challenge to you: Once you finish reading this, give somebody one of your dirty little secrets, even if it isn’t that little, and then ask them to give one to you.
I only eat with a salad fork. What’s yours?
Julian Caracotsios is a Weinberg junior. He can be reached at [email protected]. If you want to respond publicly to this column, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected].
