People Plagiarism

Plagiarism: that sneaky bitch. You’ve been lectured time and time again, before you even know how to spell the word, about how it’ll ruin your chances at passing your classes, having an academic career or even a job. But why has no one warned us that it’ll stop you from having an identity, too?

I was reading an article for class about Kaavya Viswanathan. If you don’t know her story, she was a Harvard student who plagiarized a bunch of books to write her own called “How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild and Got a Life.” She took countless excerpts from Megan McCafferty’s “Jessica Darling” novels. And when I say took them, I mean changed a handful of words and copied her work exactly. Viswanathan’s books were taken off the shelves, yet somehow she still graduated from Harvard and went on to attend Georgetown Law.

This was baffling to me. I’ve been so scared of plagiarism that in kindergarten I changed an answer on my test because I saw someone else had the same one. How could someone who so blatantly robbed others’ intellectual property go on to have a successful career?

But we do that every day, so maybe it shouldn’t be so shocking. In my formative years, my whole personality was carbon-copied from those I admired. Honestly, to this day I pick up stray traits that I just tack on as my own. We are all guilty of people plagiarism, and our judgment day looms in the future.

Some may say it’s endearing—that we’re mosaics of everyone we’ve come across. I could tell you how I inherited my addiction to Diet Coke from my mom. Or how I started wearing Brandy Melville pajama bottoms because of my freshman year roommate. Or even how I started saying “it’s grits” because of my friends. All these little things that I think of as me-isms are actually just borrowed from people I admire.

This happens at all stages of life, and we just write it off as self-growth or evolution. Did I really outgrow my dark hair with blonde money pieces because I “found myself,” or did I just find someone new to model myself after? Look around. You may compare yourself to who you were in high school and think that you’ve truly found growth. You might snicker with your friends at how you used to dress and think that isn’t you anymore. But maybe it never really was you to begin with. It was just who you were around. We all plagiarize each other to find a sense of feigned stability until you realize you’re falling behind and force yourself to evolve further.

When I realized this, I felt like a fraud. I had always prided myself on feeling so guilt-free with my classes. I’ve aced every Turn It In check for school while I was failing them in my identity. But if I think back to who I was before I was influenced, before I was surrounded by people more creative, more put-together, more fashionable and more confident than me, I see my identity in my days before preschool.

Pre-preschool Olivia was pretty dope, I must say. Her grandparents hung a curtain in an open door frame for her to hide behind every weekend. When her parents came to pick her up from grandma and grandpa’s house, she hid behind the curtain giggling, shaking a little with nerves. Everyone pulled up chairs and her grandma said, “Now presenting Olivia Evans!” She emerged from behind the curtain for a maximum of thirty seconds with a dance she choreographed with nothing but her mind. Then she ran back, picked her wedgie and returned to her makeshift stage. She basked in the glory of the attention and fame while her family made her feel like she had made it.

I like to think back on that when I’m feeling lost. Maybe my stage is different now, and maybe I’ve gotten my wedgie issue under control since then, but I still feel that light when my roommates gather in the family room while I stand and tell them a story I find entertaining from that day. I still feel famous when my parents call me crying about one of my stories being published. I still feel like I’m on the big stage when I dance to Fleetwood Mac as the live band at MacDinton’s plays.

I might be unoriginal. We all are, to some extent. I wear what I saw someone else wear because they had something unique I wanted to take for myself. I take phrases that get a laugh and steal them as my own. So what! All of our life experiences lead us to love things for our own unique reasons. And that’s unique enough for me.

No matter how hard we try, we can’t plagiarize what makes us feel alive. You can follow someone else’s footsteps, but I can guarantee you’ll see something in the distance that catches your eye and gets you off track. The database of memories, opinions, grudges and references in your mind is yours—no need for citations.

So, if you find yourself feeling unoriginal, just know that no one else can see the world the way you do. Maybe it isn’t your clothes that are cutting-edge, or your taste in music or even your hobbies. But the way your eyes light up when you talk about your passions and your loved ones is special just to you.

Strike out,

Writer: Olivia Evans

Editor: Olivia Hansen

Olivia Evans is an editorial director for Strike Magazine Gainesville. When she's not woman-splaining Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac or giggling along to her favorite podcasts (Just Trish or Giggly Squad if you need recs), you can find her aimlessly walking around campus with her headphones in and homemade coffee in hand. You can reach her on Instagram @olivialeevans or by email at oliviaevans@ufl.edu.

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