Not your average hippy stereotype

Emma Fowler talks hippies and hoodie hugging.

I am (apparently) your classic hippy. I have facial adornments, knotty hair, a limited but brightly coloured selection of clothes, and a van in which I am currently traveling around New Zealand. Even as a hippy I am happy to indulge in shameless commercialism.

Stereotypes are great. I love ‘em. I think that they are a wonderful source of humour. And, as societies and cultural diversities ebb and flow, they continue to evolve and new ones come into being.

Who knew what a hoodie was a few years ago; that they were to be feared far beyond what normal and rational behaviour should dictate; that a desperate Conservative would advocate that we should put ourselves in mortal danger by attempting to hug one? Not me.

Nor did I know that I myself would grow up to fit so easily into a stereotype. Not a hoodie. Nor chav, emo, townie, Sloane ranger, skater or goth. No, I am the oldest stereotype of them all. I am (apparently) your classic hippy. I have facial adornments, knotty hair, a limited but brightly coloured selection of clothes, and a van in which I am currently traveling around New Zealand.

At first I was a little alarmed to learn that I was being judged in a stereotypical fashion. I was once told, quite forcefully by someone who’d known me all of thirty minutes, that I looked like the sort of person who should eat hummus, after I declined to have some. The beautiful irony of that situation was that I actually do like hummus; I just didn’t want any at that point in time. But I was expected, as a hippy, to pounce upon it. Although many of the things you would expect of me as a lefty are true (my ethical and moral values, for example, and my putting these into practice through buying Fairtrade or local produce, carbon offsetting etc), I am still an individual.

SHOCK HORROR!

And this is where the proverbial line needs to be drawn. When stereotypes are used to judge, decide or discriminate, that is when they cease to be a source of humour. They are not negative in themselves. They are based on aspects of truth, which is how they come to be, but when they become the only way someone is seen, then they become negative. My way of dealing with this, and asserting my individuality from the group I have been placed in, is to challenge the stereotype. I don’t have to try, as it happens.

I am different enough from what people expect when they look at me. People are surprised that I’m not vegan, vegetarian, macro biotic or whatever. I do have a slight disdain for all those who shun dairy goodness, have an uninhibited desire for meat and cheese, and eat enough of these products to counter the actions of approximately 7.3 vegans.

I love watching Top Gear and cars turn me on enormously, though I must add vehemently that Jeremy Clarkson does not. Hamster does a bit. I am aware of the impact of global warming and try to fight to reduce my impact upon it, but I will still giggle my arse off when Clarkson poo poos the latest research as tossycock and proceeds to drive a Lambo around some European mountains in an attempt to challenge the inhabitants of Australasia for the biggest ozone hole.

In short, I don’t fit the stereotype to the point of being impractical, incapable of humour unless it involves organic lentils, and frankly just annoying. In some ways it's quite nice to have a stereotype to live up to. It is expected of me to buy Fairtrade coffee, and I will and that is strangely comforting. But I will always strive to challenge those who want me to be nothing other than a dirty, weed-smoking communist (which is a bloody stupid system of government by the way). And I will try to do the same for others.

I won’t be intimidated by someone wearing a hoodie, or think less of them simply because his or her stereotype dictates it. I’m not hugging one though… that’s just asking for it.