Susan JessicaIf you’ve ever watched The Walking Dead, you know Negan. The guy with the leather jacket, sharp wit, and a bat named Lucille wrapped in barbed wire. He’s one of those characters you either love to hate or hate to love. There’s something about the swagger, the absolute confidence, and the way he handles his—let’s call them unique methods of leadership, that makes you kind of… well, want to be him.
And yeah, I tried. Don’t ask me why, I guess it just seemed like the thing to do at the time. Big mistake? Maybe. But hey, let’s take a walk down that twisted path together. I’ll show you how I tried to channel my inner Negan, and how it all came crashing down—bat first.
The Negan Pull
Let’s be real: Negan’s magnetic. I mean, come on—who wouldn’t want to waltz into a room like he does? He’s got this ability to own a space, to make everyone in it feel like they’re not the boss, and it’s like a power magnet. And let’s not forget Lucille. That bat. Man. If I could just wield that thing with some semblance of Negan-level swagger… maybe I could start calling the shots. Cue dramatic music.
I tried. Spoiler: I failed, but let’s rewind a bit. You’ve gotta understand why I thought I could even attempt this.
Channeling Negan’s Vibe
So I’m sitting at home, scrolling through Instagram, looking at memes about Lucille and The Walking Dead, and it hits me like a freight train: “I can do this. I could be like Negan.” I mean, how hard can it be to adopt some attitude and start ruling the world, right?
I grabbed a leather jacket from my closet. Now, it wasn’t exactly Negan-approved—more like a half-priced knockoff from Kohl’s—but hey, it was black, had zippers, and screamed “I’m not to be messed with.” In my mind, that was half the battle won.
The next step? A bat. Not just any bat, though. I needed something that screamed “I’m in control.” I mean, I couldn’t exactly go around with a machete or an axe like some medieval knight. So, I went for the classic. A regular baseball bat. No barbed wire, because that’s a commitment I wasn’t willing to make at 9 PM on a Tuesday. But hey, it was something.
The Swagger Struggle
Fast forward past three failed attempts at sounding like Negan in the mirror, and I realize—this isn’t as easy as it looks. I mean, Negan walks into a room and instantly, everyone is like, “Oh, yeah, that’s the guy in charge.” But me? I couldn’t even walk past my dog without tripping over my own feet, let alone try to intimidate anyone.
I’d stand in front of the mirror and practice my best “I’m the boss here” smirk. You know the one—half grin, eyebrow raised. But instead of looking intimidating, I just looked like I was having a minor stroke. Great.
Anyway, here’s the kicker: After multiple failed mirror attempts, I learned that Negan’s confidence doesn’t come from his leather jacket or his bat—it comes from him. The dude knows exactly who he is and what he wants. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.
The Bat and The Reality Check
Okay, but here’s the thing. The bat. Lucille. That thing has become an icon. So I had to at least try swinging it, right? Just to see if maybe it’d make me feel… I dunno, powerful. I didn’t wrap it in barbed wire—because that’s like a whole other level of commitment—but I gave it a swing.
And oh boy… fast forward to my first swing in the backyard, and it’s like I suddenly realized the sheer weight of it. Not the physical weight, but the emotional weight of what this bat represents. In that split second, I saw myself as Negan: ruthless, unrelenting, in charge.
But then? I missed the tree. Completely. The bat went flying out of my hands, and I had to awkwardly chase it across my yard like a kid who’d just flunked PE.
Yeah, not exactly Lucille-level cool.
The Power of Fear? Not So Much…
But seriously, I learned something there. Power isn’t about having a bat or about being feared—it’s about presence. Negan doesn’t wield Lucille because it makes him tough. He wields it because he knows how to make people fear the person holding it. He doesn’t need the bat to tell the world he’s a badass; he just is. The bat? It’s a symbol.
It was like my dog, Charlie. I could shake a treat in front of him, but if he wasn’t in the mood? He’d look at me like I was a total joke. You can’t make someone fear you with a bat, you can only make them fear your attitude.
The Lessons Learned: Spoiler Alert, It’s Not About the Bat
It’s About the Confidence (and Maybe Less Leather)
So here’s where the journey takes a turn for the real talk. You think you’re gonna go all Negan on life, strut around with a bat, and people will fall in line. But nah. Life’s not a post-apocalyptic drama, and people don’t bend to you just because you act like they should.
I mean, yeah, Lucille’s cool, but it’s not a magic wand. The moment I started realizing that the bat wasn’t going to make me as cool as Negan, things started to click. The leather jacket? Might as well be a cosplay outfit for all it did. That’s when I had to admit: it wasn’t about the stuff—it was about what’s inside.
My first real “a-ha” moment was this: You can’t try to be someone else. You gotta be your own version of awesome. Negan’s power? It’s not in the bat. It’s in the fact that he believes in himself, no matter how many walkers (or people) get in his way.
I Needed More Than a Bat—I Needed Grit
Alright, here’s the part where I get real with y’all. The more I tried to act like Negan, the more I realized I was missing the one thing that made him him—grit. Real grit. The kind where you get knocked down, you’re bloody and bruised, but you get back up anyway because you have to.
I had to dig deep—like, really deep. Turns out, what I needed wasn’t a bat or a leather jacket. I needed to believe in my own strength, to have the courage to stand my ground and keep going, even when things weren’t going according to plan. That’s the kind of power Negan has. And while I might not be swinging bats anytime soon, I sure as hell got a dose of that inner toughness.
Conclusion: Swinging a Bat Isn’t Enough
Fast forward to today, and I can tell you this: trying to be Negan taught me a lot. But mostly, it taught me that I don’t need to be anyone else. Sure, Negan’s got that swagger that’s impossible to ignore, but in the end, I learned that my own version of power doesn’t come from trying to emulate someone else—it comes from owning who I am and not pretending to be a guy with a bat.
Do I still keep a bat in my garage? Yeah, but now it’s just for yard work—don’t judge me. So, here’s the takeaway: You can try to be like someone else, but the real magic happens when you finally decide to just be you.
Richard Joseph
