Becky Sargent/The Falcon

Indie kids, why do you hate me so?

Is it because I've never seen a Wes Anderson movie or because I don't think that "Arrested Development" is funny?

Is it because the only Plain White T's song I know is "Hey There Delilah," and that is only because I heard it played continuously on the radio for about a century?

Or is it because I sometimes, occasionally, once in a while, maybe forget to recycle?

Maybe it's paranoia or maybe it's actually true, but I can't help feeling judged by the members of the prominent indie culture here at SPU. It's like, pardon me, but is my conformity showing?

Every generation has had its countercultural movements. The '60s had hippies, the '80s had Bohemians, and we have do-it-yourself-I-listen-to-bands-that-don't-even-exist-yet indies.

The term "indie," a slang variation of the word "independent," is traditionally used to refer to "independent art -- music, film, literature or anything that fits under the broad banner of culture -- created outside of the mainstream and without corporate financing" as a 2006 CNN article put it.

Indies are individuals who subscribe to this subculture of obscurity and curse the day that an indie artist went mainstream.

"Three things happen when an indie artist goes mainstream," said junior Matthew Naylor. "A song you liked gets overplayed, and you start to hate it. The artist is then probably signed onto a major label, which will then start to control what they think they should sound like, and then they are ruined."

Avery Matro is a sophomore double-majoring in english literature and classics

Naylor, whose favorite bands include Early November and Brand New, cited the band Death Cab for Cutie as a recent example of this death by mainstream phenomenon.

"Their latest album sounded nothing like them," he said.

My pride in actually recognizing a band Naylor was talking about was shattered when I learned that it was already considered mainstream. It is this disconnect that can feed into non-indie feelings of insecurity.

Passing by indies (and you know who you are) eating in Gwinn or lounging on the grass, I always have an urge to yell, "I'm cool, I'm smart, and I bought these designer jeans from Goodwill," with the hope that those judgmental and condescending eyes might soften to ones of acceptance and respect.

But I resist. And I walk away feeling that all they see is a square to their hippie, a yuppie to their Bohemian, a mainstream to their indie.

Why do I feel such a compulsion?

Maybe it's because history only remembers countercultural movements. No one has ever had a "Dress Like a Square Day" or written a musical about the plight of yuppies. These law abiders, brand-name wearers, corporate-job getters, and mainstream listeners have all faded into the background of history, never to be heard of again, and I didn't want to go quietly.

I refuse to buy into that mentality any longer. This indie versus mainstream culture has only served to promote snobbery on one side and defensiveness on the other.

I refuse to believe that just because I don't listen to obscure bands that have sentences as song titles that I am any less of an intellectual or any less of a rebel.

This perfectly-coifed head holds some really great thoughts, thank you very much.

I extend an invitation to any other student who feels on the outside of the indie. So what if we only listen to songs that are played on the radio? That doesn't make us incapable of original thought. So what if we dress in really cute clothes that are from Macy's? That doesn't mean we are any less creative.

Let's join together because, like the indie kids, together we can be independent.