Why is weird being given a bad name?

Hi, it’s Melanie here.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines "weird" as: very strange, very unusual, unexpected, or not natural. It's a word with edges, one that hints at something a little off-kilter, a little unsettling—and yet, I’ve always found comfort in it.

To be clear, I have a defined stance: there’s a special kind of magic in being called “weird.” I’ve learned to wear the label like a cozy, oversized sweater, the kind you find at a thrift store and refuse to take off because it just fits and feels right, even if no one else gets it. In a world that’s obsessed with fitting into some algorithmic mould, being weird feels like a rebellious act. It’s not just about marching to the beat of your own drum; it’s about bringing your own tambourine and triangle to the jam session, uninvited but essential.

Playground politics—and more recently, the ‘reality show’ that is the US 2024 presidential campaign —used to make the term 'weirdo' a pejorative, the kind of label that made you shrink in your chair at the back of the classroom when someone pointed it out. But now? It’s a badge of honour, one I’m surprised Trump didn’t fully embrace (potentially further evidence of his childlike emotional intelligence).?

We’ve also seen this shift in pop culture, from Billie Eilish to Chappell Roan, both of whom have become global phenomena by leaning into their unique brand of weird. Billie, with her oversized clothes and green hair, and Chappell with her theatrical, unapologetically quirky performances, remind us that embracing our weirdness is not only okay but can be wildly successful.

Another take is Greta Gerwig’s Barbie, a film that managed to flip the script on conventionality. Margot Robbie’s Barbie may have been the epitome of plastic perfection, but the characters who truly stole the show were the ones who were delightfully offbeat. Kate McKinnon’s “Weird Barbie” was a revelation—a character that embodied every childhood Barbie who’d been given a DIY haircut and was relegated to the back of the toy box. And yet, she was the one who knew how to fix things, how to find joy in the broken bits. It was a reminder that weirdness is where the fun—and the truth—really happens.

But why stop at pop culture or politics? Weirdness is not just an asset in the creative industries — where it’s often celebrated as the spark behind groundbreaking art, literature, and entertainment — it’s also crucial in a wide range of other fields. In business, for example, being weird can be an unexpected advantage. It fosters creativity and innovation, leading to the development of new products and services that stand out in a crowded marketplace. Those who think differently are often the ones who come up with the ‘cool’ solutions to common problems, seeing possibilities that others miss.

Moreover, weirdness can be a powerful tool in forging unexpected connections with people. In industries like sales, marketing, and customer service, the ability to strike up a rapport with a diverse range of customers is essential. A little weirdness — a quirky sense of humour, an unusual perspective — can make interactions more memorable and help to build stronger relationships. It shows that you’re not just another cog in the machine, but someone who brings something unique to the table.

Personally, I love weirdos. The people who come to life in Warhammer Reddit rooms? Love. Hardcore musical theatre fans? Hit me up. Missy Elliot, who, lest we forget, showcased her Lamborghini bed on her episode of Cribs (seminal viewing during my formative years) – a stone-cold icon worthy of my affection all these years later.

And I relish being a weirdo, too. I'm a mother of twins with a penchant for The Box when I have the energy for a night out and strictly want to rub shoulders with London’s subversive underground society. I made a small (but not insignificant) fortune building an alcoholic sweets business and now I get to channel my eccentric energy into creating disruptive brands + product innovations that push cultural boundaries. Heck, it's these things—plus my unhealthy obsession with Jane Fonda, knowing all the lyrics to every Dreamgirls song, and a passion for Sabrina the Teenage Witch knowledge that borderlines on ‘not natural,’ a bit unusual—but also what makes me an unpredictable creative tour-de-force.

So, what makes someone truly weird? Is it pure and authentic deep self-love, whether that be joyfully unhinged or the sleep-deprived coder who lives off Red Bull and ramen? When does being weird become cringe? Maybe it’s when weirdness feels forced, when it's trying too hard to be different, to stand out in a way that’s inauthentic. When weirdness becomes a performance rather than an expression of who you really are, it loses its magic. It becomes just another mask, another way to conform.

But real weirdness—the kind that comes from embracing all the parts of yourself that don’t quite fit—is never cringe. It’s joyful, freeing, and, frankly, necessary. It’s what keeps us from becoming robots, from living in a world that’s just beige and boring.

So here’s to all the weirdos out there, revelling in our glorious oddities. We’re the future, and honestly? The world is better for it.

Melanie Goldsmith

Co-Founder of Juicy Brick?

Supporting Articles

1. What makes an effective piece of brand communication?

2. Dominic Cummings calls for 'weirdos and misfits' for No 10 jobs

3. Missy Elliott’s Crib Has a Car Bed & More - MTV Cribs

4. The Paradox of Weird Barbie: Girlhood, Weirdness, and Agency

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