Rachel Ran Amok.

hippie |ˈhipē| (also hippy)
noun
(esp. in the 1960s) a person of unconventional appearance, typically having long hair and wearing beads, associated with a subculture involving a rejection of conventional values and the taking of hallucinogenic drugs.

I can go in so many directions with this bad boy. This topic truly amuses me, in part because I find that when I am within my native environment of beautiful Northern California, no one thinks I am a hippie. It is when I venture out of the best state on earth that I begin to hear such statements: "Oh, you're a hippie aren't you?" and "Hey do you have any tie-dye shoelaces I can borrow?" and so on and so on. So I thought I would address this slightly-accurate (emphasis on slightly) stereotype head-on. Straight from the wild and free horse's mouth.

I consider myself knowledgeable on the subject as I have grown up around reformed hippies. My dad was born and raised in San Francisco, was in a band and likes to read Ray Brautigan poetry in his spare time. He was too young to actually partake in the festivities of the 60's but you know he felt it during those formative years. And mom? Well, mom married dad.

But am I a hippie??? I do have long hair. I do identify with the counter-culture of the early 1960's. Let me be more specific. I am enchanted by the actions of student protesters on various campuses between 1960 and 1965. For example, Mario Savio's speech at UC Berkeley in 1964 gives me the chills.

I like what they stood for. There was a sense of desperation in their actions and an absolute need for progression. Were they hippies? No. However, I feel that these movements paved the way for what would eventually become the hippie lifestyle and mindset. Truth be told, I would have loved to be part of that movement. As for Woodstock? I could have missed it. The fact of the matter is: I do not own any tie-die, I like to shave my legs, I feel that bras are a great thing for women (but boo to that whole glass ceiling thing) and hallucinating just doesn't seem like the perfect way to spend my Friday nights. I'm just too prissy to be a hippie.

On the outside, I am not a hippie. In my heart, that's an entirely different ball game. I detest the circus and puppy mills and I am a pescatarian (let's discuss this at a later date, shall we?). Joan Baez's Blowin' in the Wind (you love it) just started playing on my itunes and I think it is really cool that Angelina has adopted all the world's orphaned children. Plus, that whole equal rights for everyone thing is pretty neat. And let's face it, Jimi Hendrix truly is the sexiest man to ever walk the face of this fine Mother Earth. I will never give up on the idea that there is always a way to make things better as the status quo just is not enough for me. I can go on and on but I am going to stop before you become completely convinced that I make flower headbands in my spare time.

I must stress here that I've been to hippie social gatherings and I just don't quite fit in. There is a frenetic quality to my personality that kills the chill vibe, I suppose. I also get annoyed by posers, in general. I'm not trying to hate on anyone (really, hippies don't hate) but I find that with any high concentration of a specific sub-culture there are bound to be people who are in it for street cred or to build their identity based on trends and fashions. Though I must say I rather enjoy partaking in political conversations at these gatherings. This is how it plays out:

Me: "So, did anyone catch Gaddafi's speech at the UN yesterday?"
Unspecified hippie: "I'm totally with you on that. DAMN THE MAN."
Me: "Wait......damn Gaddafi or the damn establishment, in general? I'm confused"
Unspecified hippie: "Don't be confused. Let's dance."

I may be exaggerating (yay for artistic license), but you catch my drift. Final word? I am about 38% hippie. Let's dance.

-Rachel