Dear Special Snowflake,
We got it: you’re special. There’s nothing wrong with being special–in fact, I celebrate the specialness of each person I meet and get to know. While it’s interesting to study the rise of and adherence to conformity in society, I actually find conformists boring. I’m on the lookout for unique traits, those characteristics which set each of us apart.
I have no problem with your specialness. Rather, I have a problem with how you are not special. I’ll explain.
I know you think you are, by virtue of being A Special Snowflake, superior or set apart in a way that individuals are not typically set apart from each other. I know that you think your genetics, experiences, talents, and education have forged an individual so complex that no one else can in any way understand where you’re coming from, how you came to your conclusions, or intuit what you might do next. Further, I know that you think you have nothing in common with the un-Special Snowflakes around you.
That’s fine. I don’t even have a problem with how you view yourself–that’s your business. What I do have a problem with, however, is how you treat the un-Specials*. And the way you treat them is not special: cruel people have been treating other people cruelly since we slithered from the goop. The issue here is not how your specialness is special, but rather, how you use what you view is a superior uniqueness of self as license to abuse the people around you.
You say that by virtue of your Special-ness–genetics, talents, education, experiences, money–your cruelty is excused. From you, accusations are truth. From you, insults are necessary. From you, abuse is to be expected. You are a superior being: you do not have to play by social rules. Your Special-ness excuses it. Your Special-ness is so needed and desired by the world, that they are willing to put up with anything you dish out just to get a little of that Special something. Maybe you’ve even convinced someone else–a boss, a mentor, a lover, a parent–of your Special-ness, and that person does the work of covering up your cruelty, leaving you free to wreck even more havoc.
“But you don’t understand!” cries the Special Snowflake. “I am more intelligent than you are. I am more capable. I did work harder. I am a genius. I did suffer, once. I am suffering. You’re just jealous that you aren’t Special, like me. You’re stupid. You’re incompetent. You’re lazy. You’re ordinary. You’re sheltered. If you were Special like me, you’d see how Special I am.”
Legions of men and women of the Special Snowflake brigade have echoed you, over the centuries. Their birthright, abilities, intelligence, money, and power excused them from the need to be civil, and gave them allowance to be cruel. How Special is Special-ness of that sort, truly? It would seem, unfortunately, rather…ordinary.
So, Special Snowflake, at the risk of further raising your perpetually-elevated ire, I’m calling you out. You are ordinary. You are a pattern, a type that bubbles up over the course of history; in fact, you are so common that there is one of you in nearly every classroom and office. One can be intelligent, talented, well-educated, and monied without being cruel. There is no requirement to be cruel. Cruelty is a choice, even for Special Snowflakes.
*Note that I’m not suggesting those who the the Special Snowflakes treats like un-Special aren’t special. Rather, I’m framing the judgment and perspective of the Special Snowflake.