We are who we are, but does it matter whether or not we know for ourselves who we are? Many people spend their time in denial of who they are. Many times the rest of us can see through that–or at least we think we can …
But how could we possibly know for sure? On the one hand, I don’t like to be stereotyped based solely on my sex, race, and the like, and I don’t feel that I have try to fit into any category. But on the other hand, I spend a lot of time defining myself, as much for myself as for others.
On this blog I have talked about where I stand as a black person, as a woman, and as a writer. I’m constantly evolving and when it is all said and done, I want to be true to whoever I am at any given point in time, as these posts from the past year illustrate:
I’ve been a writer for quite a long time, but it has only been for the last two years that I have specifically called myself a poet. But that is what I was even though I didn’t recognize it.
Over the years, I have written short stories, an unfinished novel, and extensive notes for a movie script. But with that being said, I have only ever submitted poetry for publication. Poetry was always been my go-to when I sat down to write. So many times I would intend to write poetry as a warm-up exercise and then have that take up the entire writing session. Over the years, and to this day, I study the mechanics of poetry. The possibilities are vast so I always consider myself a student.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had made different choices in life, particularly if I had not gone through a period where I had given up writing as a serious vocation. Honestly, I think I knew even then that there was a piece missing and that missing piece was self awareness.
In my case, time and circumstances have led me to the point where there is less interference now between the inner and outer me than there was before. Before, there was a thick, opaque sheet of glass in between the two and the best I could do was place my hands on the glass without ever touching the real me with my bare hands. I still have a ways to go, but now, at least, I feel I am poking my fingers through gauze and breaking through just enough to feel something.
Here I stand today, always striving to grow into my self awareness.
© Sweepy Jean and Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World, 2011.