It wasn’t that it hurt getting shoved into lockers, but that it confirmed I was “the freak.” When checked into a metal grey locker while walking to class, some jock would sneer, “Watch where you’re going, freak!” Sometimes they’d call me “faggot” or “queer” depending on how malicious teens wanted to be. As the kid who liked guitar, metal bands, skateboards, and wore “alternative” clothes, my appearance and hobbies often attracted the vultures.

Early in the 1990s, I’d grown my hair down to my shoulders to reflect the hairstyles of the bands I loved. The one difference was that I parted it down the middle and straightened it each morning. The result was that it looked like I wore a brown mop on my head. My brother reminded me each morning that I looked like a girl standing in front of the mirror with a round brush and blow dryer. Besides the “butt cut” (due to its resemblance to a butt crack with the hard part in the middle), I wore standard grunge and metal clothes: flared or ripped up JNCO jeans and shirts sporting band names or the naughty monkey, Curious George. Despite the humidity and punishing Oklahoma sun, I wore black jeans to cover my stick legs during the summer.

At church, I got singled out too for my love of the “Big Four” — Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, and Slayer. This was mainly because the style of music became synonymous with “evil.” For the unaware, when metal and rap began to dominate the mainstream market in the 1980s and 90s, Tipper Gore — wife of former U.S. vice president Al Gore — formed a task force to inform parents about the determinants of explicit music. Her task force is the reason we still have the words “Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics” on album covers. Tipper focused on heavy metal, punk, and hip hop. Metal, in particular, started becoming linked to the occult, and soon a wave of ill-informed hysteria swept the nation. The American Christian Industrial Complex latched onto Tipper’s fanaticism, linking metal with devil worship. Satanic Panic then captured the attention of the American populace once 60 Minutes aired an episode on the occult, securing metal music’s odd link to youth rebellion.

The underlying belief was that listening to hard rock or metal meant you were apt to murder your parents and do crack cocaine. Even listening to the sound of a record played backward, many claimed that more sublime bands — like Journey — were commanding their fans to worship the devil.

By the 9th grade, I’d grown tired of being the outcast accused of devil worship. I desperately wanted to be accepted and was willing to do anything, so I decided I would take drastic measures.

When I returned home from school one afternoon, I told my mom I wanted to chop off my hair. While she was shocked, my decision relieved her. Within a day, I went from shoulder-length hair to spiky frosted tips. I also phased out my metal-band clothes for popular brands like Abercrombie & Fitch, that I saw other students wearing. Suddenly, I was accepted and nothing longer the freak. I still loved metal, but would always tune the radio station to pop or Christian stations to throw people off the scent. But I never stopped being the weirdo or the guy who loved metal. I just rationalized that this portion of my life was unacceptable to everyone else.

So I hid who I was.

When Stranger Things season 4 dropped, The Duffer Brothers introduced men and women to an affable, but cowardly, Eddie Munson. Eddie was an amalgamation and stereotype of all the things young metal heads were labeled and endured during the 80s and 90s. He was into Dungeons & Dragons and fantasy, hard rock and metal, and was a screwup in school. The show, in particular, makes it a point to reflect on his musical tastes. During one poignant moment, the other kids are scrambling to find music, but when shuffling through Eddie’s cassettes they’re appalled. Robin Buckley (portrayed by Maya Hawke) then exclaims, “What is this shit!?” In defiance, Eddie holds up an Iron Maiden album and shouts, “THIS IS MUSIC!” Throughout much of the show, Eddie continues to be the cowardly lion, and along with other members of the Hellfire Club, gets linked to the occult (this sounding familiar yet?).

By the end of the season, however, Eddie becomes the standout hero. In one of the most metal cinematic moments ever, he stands atop a trailer in the Upside-Down as demon bats swarm while shredding to Metallica’s 1986 hit, Master of Puppets. By doing so, he distracts the hive mind and allows his friends extra time, only to give his life in the process.

The moment became a pop culture phenomenon and an entire generation of metal heads screamed in delight while a younger generation — who’d never heard of Metallica — fell in love with the title track. Eddie became a hero and people praised actor Joseph Quinn’s iconic portrayal. For many of us who grew up as Eddie, however, this pop culture moment became confusing. The Duffer Brothers had intentionally created a nod to those of us who’d endured the bullying and pain of being the outcast for our hobbies and tastes. Because of Stranger Things, we felt seen, heard, and understood in a genre that’s often misunderstood. For the first time, we weren’t evil. The world loved our character and his metal moment atop a trailer shredding on an axe.

But we were also those same kids they slammed into lockers, called faggots and freaks, and whose music they still hate.

When I say that people hate metal, I’m not exaggerating. I can’t tell you the amount of conversations I’ve had regarding my taste in music in which people claim they “can’t understand the appeal” or that it sounds “too angry and could lead to violence” or they’re certain “this is what they’d play in hell.” Consider that even though Metallica’s Master of Puppets took the internet and ratings by storm, every single major radio station still refuses to play metal because the belief is that it won’t do well, is too angry, or won’t resonate with today’s culture. Instead, it’s Harry Styles, Taylor Swift, and Beyoncé, with all manner of vapid lyrics and performance art.

Consider that Beyoncé’s song Run the World had six writers and four producers only to repeat the lines “Who runs the world? Girls” roughly 80,000 times. On the flip side, Metallica wrote a song entitled Creeping Death that is a modern day retelling of the story of Passover written solely by the members of the band. But somehow metal is the genre that won’t sell because it’s too angry and can’t be understood? I find it ironic that bands like Korn and Linkin Park got radio air time while growling and screaming throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, but anymore the era of metal becoming mainstream has long since passed. We’re still the outcasts because the industry doesn’t like the way it sounds (despite being the most popular genre in the world).

Then there’s the way we dress. With our black clothing, ripped jeans and shirts, hairstyles, and tattoos, people assume were off to kick puppies and worship Satan. Eddie may be the hero, but the kid down the street is still the freak. That’s why so many metal heads are closeted and look like your dad now. We wanted to enjoy our music and culture, but the populace told us we were unacceptable, so we became mundane. Rap, pop, indie folk rock, and everything in-between is mainstream and acceptable. We’ll get poked at for tight black jeans and cut off sleeves, while the hipster whose never chopped wood a day in his life is the ideal modern man.

I suppose that’s why me and other metal heads loved Eddie so much — we’ve always been him. Always misunderstood, our music tastes offensive, and our dancing (moshing) seen as violent pent up angst or youth rebellion.

Of course, it’s easy to be bitter and it may appear I’m just being a salty old metal head. But here’s the beauty in all this — these days I finally know who I am. I spent years pretending to like music I hated and wearing clothes that didn’t reflect my style, but everyone else. Then one day I had the epiphany that who I am is who God intended me to be. It took decades, but I’m okay being the freak, the weirdo, and the guy who listens to songs that “sound like his dog’s being tortured.” I’ve never been happier than fully stepping into what invigorates my soul. I’m not trying to pretend to be someone I’m not, and it’s a shame to waste who you are wishing you could be someone else people find “acceptable.”

Like Eddie, I used to run away because I was too cowardly to embrace who I was. But then one day, like Eddie’s standout moment, I decided, “I’m not gonna run this time.”

Don’t run. Even if they call you “the freak.”

My new war memoir, Where Cowards Go to Die, is now available everywhere major books are sold. Prefer to listen? It’s on Audible too.