*featured Photo by Adrian Fernández on Unsplash
Not sure what I want to write about yet, I just feel like I should write… Sometimes I have things to say but don’t know how to say what it is that’s on my mind. Sometimes I want to do things but am more concerned about what others would think or how they would feel, that I don’t. Maybe this is a post about authenticity when facing judgement and adversity.
It is extremely easy to say ” live your truth” or “be your authentic self” but it isn’t always easy to do. I try tirelessly everyday to do just that but there are days when I don’t even know who I am.
As a kid, I always believed myself to be an outcast. Though people looking in probably would not agree. I guess you’d say I was a “popular loner.” Growing up I was involved in a lot of extra curricular activities, knew everyone in my neighborhood, and about seventy-five percent of the people at my schools. But somehow I still considered myself an outcast even though I did have “friends.”
Many people assumed that I wasn’t “black” because of my hair. On top of that, it seemed that nothing I enjoyed was what I was “supposed” to enjoy as a young black girl living in District Heights, Maryland during the early 2000’s. Hell, I wanted a horse since the age of two. It’s like the more I expressed the things I enjoyed the more I was associated with being white.
Peers would either call me an oreo or say things like “you can’t be black”. My siblings would basically treat me like Mark from Cheaper By The Dozen; well at least that’s how I felt. My mother would call me her “cheerleader” daughter and well, I knew what that meant. I don’t think that I was hurt by the remarks of my peers or family members but I do believe it plays a huge part in my lack of ability to be my authentic self.
It caused me to pull back. To hide the real me inside of who they thought I was or should be. It made it hard for me to eventually differentiate the two. I became who I thought they wanted me to be. It hindered my ability to grow into who I truly am or even figure out who I wanted to be. It made me uncomfortable.
Soon I began to associate certain characteristics that I embodied with negative connotations. I mean, it has always been okay for someone else to have them but not me. So now that I am an adult and am consciously trying to meet, accept, understand, and love my authentic self it is hard as hell to introduce her to the world, let alone my family.
This would mean that I am no longer the girl they all once knew. That they never knew the real me. This would take a lot of undoing. I don’t know how many times I would hear “you’ve changed” or “stop trying to be something you are not.” I don’t know how many of them would no longer “like” me. I don’t know how many of them would say that I am “mean.” I don’t know how or when or if I should ever allow them to meet.
As I am writing this post I am just now realizing these things. Just realizing that I have those feelings and have been doing those things. It’s sad actually.
But I am twenty seven years old and it’s about damn time that I do the work. I am sick of being uncomfortable, detached, and reserved. Besides, I’ve finally met someone that has not only allowed me to be myself but has showed me how to find parts of myself that I thought I locked away forever. So I have to continue to find her and accept her. Yes it will be hard but it is important and extremely essential for you to be her. You need her. There are people out there waiting to meet her. Someone is tirelessly asking the universe to bring her into their life. The world needs her.
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