Letter to the Editor: On Popularity

A scrawny figure gazes into the bathroom mirror on the second floor in the Dawes House, unaware of the metamorphosis ahead—an experience unique to Lawrenceville. In the coming months, she would bleach her shiny black hair, tan her pale, pimpled complexion, and fill her closet with LoveShackFancy skirts and long floral dresses—until she stumbles upon a split second of catharsis. For many, this sudden realization may never occur as they adapt to their new identities, embracing the imprint that is Lawrenceville. For me, that realization struck unexpectedly on a Friday evening as I scrolled through my photo album: My II Form self had dissipated—an identity so carefully sculpted over fourteen years of my parent’s trial and error had been erased by the two years at Lawrenceville. Until that moment, I never  questioned how the School’s culture delicately trimmed out parts of my background and imposed  a new set of social norms. 

Few can pinpoint the standard of “likability” that compels the students to bow down to peer pressure. Consequently, I have never seen myself as a “victim” of Lawrenceville’s social customs—or more frankly—its popularity-based social hierarchy. However, as the same girl—now just two years older—standing in the second floor bathroom in the Stephens House, clad in a full set of Lululemon lounge-wear with bleached blonde hair while contemplating her next Starbucks order, I unconsciously forfeited some of my cultural identity for a sense of belonging: The fleeting markers of Lawrenceville popularity has led me astray from my roots, molded my sense of humor, and created a version of myself foreign to my past. 

Merriam Webster defines “popularity” as the state of enjoying widespread approval. As humans, we possess an innate herd mentality—We yearn for a sense of community. Thus, those who exhibit popularity appear as the glue of a community, or the leaders of a pack, emulating and shaping the identities that others—especially teens who rely on validation for self-worth—aspire to emulate.

Moreover, given the diverse backgrounds of the student body, finding a singular individual that embodies a universal social likability proves impossible.This observation made me turn to a variation of the definition of popularity, given by the Oxford Languages Dictionary, as “the state or condition of being admired, or supported by many people.” For instance, an individual may consider to purchase a LoveShackFancy dress, or to dye their hair blonde, not necessarily because their fashion sensibilities shifted, but rather these inanimate items elicited overwhelmingly positive responses on campus. Indeed, when we commit to carrying these inanimate signifiers as a part of our identity, compliments come by more often, our Instagram like-counts begin to grow, and we feel the refreshing satisfaction of “fitting in.”  This positive feedback loop creates the illusion of a cause-and-effect relationship between these items and  how we are approached, viewed, and treated at the School. 

Popularity, then, doesn’t require individuals to necessarily “approve” or “like” a certain behavior in order to “popularize” it. Rather, popular people must exhibit qualities which others flag as “popular” and “alluring,” and thus aspire to replicate and mimic. The pursuit of popularity transforms into a scavenger hunt, in which competitors race to“mirror” popular people in the way they talk, dress, and present themselves, all in pursuit of a sense of belonging.

One day, I delved into the superlatives sections of the Olla Podrida’s past issues from 1990 up to 2020, spending hours matching faces to names and leadership titles. I couldn’t help but notice a trend: Each year, the most “Lawrentian-like Lawrentian,” once a staple of Olla Pod superlatives, was almost always awarded to an individual that is a) white b) athletic c) high achieving academically. While each person is distinct from one another, their consistent similarities could not be a simple anomaly. Cultural signifiers historically associated with whiteness—blond hair, for example—became traits that students of various races adopted to fit in. Thus, being white alone doesn’t guarantee popularity. Specifically, the ability to exhibit qualities stereotypically linked to “white girl culture” often grants individuals popularity.

At schools like Lawrenceville, inanimate objects often overshadow personal identity in determining who is popular. Our true identities become “moldable,” fitting a changing, intangible exemplar. At predominantly white boarding schools, attaining “popularity” unfolds subtly, yet the desire to conform to these molds persists, lurking in the shadows of the crescent greens. Ultimately, the racial undertones the shaping of popularity, though it could be eliminated. By fostering a less materialist, appearance-based school culture, the School could steer away from its toxic model of popularity.