Be stupid, be dumb, be funny, if that's who you are. Don't try to

In the words of Christina Grimmie, “Be stupid, be dumb, be funny, if that’s who you are. Don’t try to be someone that society wants you to be; that’s stupid. So be yourself.” In these few shining words, spoken with the purity of a soul who lived fully and briefly, lies the eternal command of authenticity — to live unmasked. Grimmie, a voice of light and laughter, reminds us that the greatest wisdom is not in perfection, but in truthfulness. She calls us to cast off the heavy armor of expectation and to embrace the raw, imperfect beauty of our individual spirit. Her words are not rebellion for its own sake; they are the cry of a free heart refusing to be molded by a world obsessed with appearances.

To “be yourself” has been said a thousand times, yet few understand its depth. It is not merely the permission to act as one pleases — it is the courage to exist without disguise, even when the world sneers. Grimmie, who rose from humble beginnings to inspire millions with her voice and her sincerity, lived this truth. She sang not with calculation but with love, and through her laughter, her playfulness, and her openness, she showed that authenticity itself is art. To “be stupid” or “be funny,” as she says, is not to abandon wisdom, but to reject the false dignity that kills joy. In the eyes of the ancients, this was the virtue of childlike spirit — the quality that connects us to wonder, to truth, to the divine.

The ancients told of Diogenes, the philosopher who lived in a barrel and mocked the vanity of Athens. When the powerful scorned his simplicity, he only laughed. When Alexander the Great offered him any favor he desired, Diogenes replied, “Stand out of my sunlight.” He, too, was “stupid” in the eyes of society — filthy, irreverent, a mockery of civilized order — yet in that foolishness, he was the wisest of all. Christina Grimmie’s words carry the same current of timeless rebellion. To live authentically is to choose sunlight over shadow, to seek truth over approval. Society will always whisper, “Be this, do that, hide your flaws,” but the soul, if it is alive, will whisper louder: “Be free.”

There is also humility in her wisdom. When she says, “Be dumb, be funny, if that’s who you are,” she reminds us that lightheartedness is sacred. The world worships seriousness — it crowns the somber and mocks the joyful — yet laughter has saved more souls than pride ever has. Humor is not foolishness; it is courage disguised as play. It is the refusal to let the darkness of judgment crush the music within. Grimmie knew that to laugh at oneself is to remain untouchable, for the one who laughs needs no approval, no perfection — only presence. Thus, in her words, “stupidity” becomes wisdom, for it is the bravery to live unguarded, to exist joyfully in a world afraid of vulnerability.

Her message echoes the teaching of the Stoics, who believed that peace comes from inner freedom, not outer conformity. The Stoic sage, like Grimmie’s artist, stands untouched by the shifting tides of praise and ridicule. To “be yourself” is not to isolate, but to align — to live in harmony with one’s true nature. It is to know one’s strengths and flaws and to hold both with tenderness. Grimmie’s life — and her untimely passing — remind us that what endures is not reputation but authentic spirit. The body fades, the applause dies, but the memory of truth, spoken and lived, becomes immortal.

Yet her words carry another meaning — a gentle defiance against fear. “Don’t try to be someone that society wants you to be.” This is the cry of every artist, every dreamer, every person who has ever felt the crushing weight of conformity. Society demands masks, and those who refuse to wear them are often misunderstood or mocked. But history honors the misfits: Galileo, who dared to look at the stars; Joan of Arc, who heard voices no one else believed; Grimmie herself, who sang her heart to the world without shame. These are the souls who remind us that progress, art, and truth are born only from those brave enough to be genuine — to stand apart.

So, the lesson is clear: be yourself, even when it feels foolish. The world will always have its molds — but greatness is found in those who do not fit them. Be sincere, even when others call you naïve. Be playful, even when the world grows cynical. Speak your truth, even when it trembles. For the purpose of life is not to please the crowd, but to awaken the soul.

Practical teaching: Each day, look inward and ask: “Am I living my truth, or someone else’s expectation?” When you feel the urge to hide your quirks or silence your laughter, remember Christina’s words. Let your imperfections be your melody. Surround yourself with those who celebrate your strangeness, not those who fear it. Be funny, be kind, be awkward, be radiant — but above all, be you. For to be oneself, in a world that insists on imitation, is the highest act of courage — and the truest form of beauty.