Anonymous
Photo from Adam Davis
If you’re reading this, it’s okay to not fit into a box, and fewer people fit in than you might think.
My life has been characterized by in-betweens. From my earliest memories to my most recent struggles, I have always felt that I was bound in the middle of many aspects of being. I have had a love-hate relationship with who I am, growing up in a multicultural household in the United States. Parts of my life have been vibrant and beautiful, filled with music and the tenor of my mother tongue. The sensation of dancing, the smell of good food, and the look of perfect smiles flood my senses upon memory. But those same perfections bleed into the most challenging times in my life, and play a part in all of who I am.
I don’t remember if there was one particular day where I clearly felt that something was wrong, I think it has always been there, like the static buzz of a television, the undercurrent of my experience. In my youth, I used to wonder why adults weren’t perfect, why everyone drove in crooked lines on the road, and why politicians didn’t have our best interests in mind. I quickly learned that the world wasn’t as straightforward as I thought it should be. The pain of shedding my childhood engulfs me to this day. And I don’t mean taking on more responsibility or starting to shape my future, because I have always been someone who values that kind of agency. I mean that at some point, I realized that the very way we are taught to engage with the world was fundamentally flawed. Subconsciously we are shown that everything fits in a neat little box and that it all will fall into place. It’s the biggest lie ever told.
I was young, figuring out who I was, and I couldn’t find an answer. I wasn’t really American, nor was I really anything else. I wasn’t a lot of things. And I was growing far out of the shell that society told me I would someday perfectly fit. A long time ago, I told my mom that I didn’t want to wear dresses anymore. Some time ago, I cut my hair that she so preciously brushed and styled, without her knowledge. And a while ago, I told her that I was never the daughter that she thought I was. I am still gathering the courage to tell other people close to me.
Growing up in a town where everyone looks and acts the same taught me that in order to be safe, I have to hide who I am. I spent so much time curating a mask to be likeable to those around me, but in no time, it fell apart. I found myself friendless, drowning in loneliness and the exhaustion of pretending. Even now, it is a struggle to be comfortable with all of who I am, but I am taking it step by step.
It is okay to be on millions of journeys and to have not reached even one end. The truth is that being human is not actually about “being” at all. Humanness is a constant state of becoming, there is no end, no point where self-discovery becomes the past, and every single person struggles in this process. Although it’s not common, or well received, to be candid about your life in the realm of polite culture, the truth is that we need more openness in our lives. Learning how to be introspective, how to share, and how to receive sharing is absolutely imperative to being human.
So today ask someone how they are doing, engage with art that challenges your perspectives, and take care of yourself. You are unique, and that makes you important.
Anonymous, Colorado College
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