Conformity, or changing one’s behaviors and tendencies to become uniform with the majority, is a universal experience. It can happen subtly or aggressively, whether we make corrections on other’s behavior, attire, or beliefs, or punish and ignore others for being different. We as humans judge what is not predictable, leading us to become both victims and perpetrators of conformity. This phenomenon has dire consequences in the sphere of mental health. As a society, we describe psychological states as ordered or disordered without ever questioning whose order acts as the standard.
In the episode, “Number Twelve Looks Just Like You”, we see conformity to an extreme and oppressive extent. The episode details a society in which individuals undergo whole-body surgery at age 19. They are given the illusion of choice with the option to look like one of a set of conventionally-attractive models. An 18-year-old woman named Marilyn does not want the surgery, but to instead be herself. Her mother, friend, and doctor deem her disordered and attempt to coerce her into the surgery. Dr. Rex lies to her and tells her she does not have to undergo surgery, although viewers will see later on it is not an option. Marilyn’s father was of a unique mindset, detesting the surgeries and advocating for individuality, which led to a deep despair and him taking his own life. Unfortunately, by the end of the episode, Marilyn has received the surgery and is welcomed with shallow arms by her mother, friend, and doctor.
I have experienced much forced and nuanced conformity in my life, particularly during my Catholic school education. Most obviously, Catholic schools use uniform clothing to create a sense of unity and shared values among students. The clothes are tailored to reflect modesty and school pride. Alterations are strictly punished. Uniforms are also expensive and inaccessible, creating a second notion of exclusivity and status. To have worn these clothes five days a week for years of my life was a test of my values and will. I felt as if I had no identity and therefore did not dedicate time and energy to discovering myself for quite a while. I was one student of a thousand replicas, built to study, write, and devote myself to my school and parish. Although only materials, uniforms send a message to the wearer that they are ants in ant farm, limited to their rote duties and assigned purpose.
Catholic schools also have less variability in their schedules as opposed to public institutions. We attended Mass every Friday at 9 AM, had our assigned classes at the same time every day for the academic year, and studied what was deemed acceptable by an unseen council granted authority by a vague force. There was no room for personal application, theorization, or qualms; only what was deemed correct by the unseen council. Catholic education was an exercise in coloring in the lines and allowing yourself to be molded into a pre-fabricated model.
This level of conformity led me to harmful and excessive identity rebellion. The more they constricted, the more I rebelled. Much of it was not productive to my self-discovery, but rather a rageful response to fear – fear of anonymity and meaninglessness. As I entered college and was freed from the shackles of Catholicism and house rules, I could relax and explore my identity in a constructive and positive way. I am still continuing on this journey and hope to do so for the rest of my life. Recently, a page in my planner said “I am constantly creating myself”. I have added it to my personal philosophy, because if we are not creating, we are destroying.
“Number Twelve Looks Just Like You” is a call-to-action for people to become individuals. It is a visual reminder of the consequences of conformity, inspiring viewers like me to value knowledge of the self and acceptance of unpredictability.
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