fear + practice

*every time i feel my self afraid, i repeat to myself “there is no place i do not belong, there is no space i do not belong.”

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i wish i could lie and say fear doesn’t get to me, its not something i feel; but that wouldn’t be me. it took a lot of unlearning, time, and therapy to learn how to practice acknowledging my fears rather than submitting to them or allowing them to shape my life.

my biggest fears growing up were rejection, punishment, and abandonment from loved ones for being myself. these fears manifested into large silences and avoidance when it came to sharing how i felt, people pleasing at the expense of myself, and the minimization of harm. i prolonged friendships that were manipulative and not reciprocal, didn’t know how to set boundaries, and struggled deeply with self acceptance, self worth, and self love. i was so afraid that i wasn’t allowing myself to be myself. this allegiance to fear coupled with on going mental health struggles came to an emotional head where i had some tough choices to make. i chose the challenging path of wellness (*The Salt Eaters - Toni Cade Bambara*), healing, and acceptance. practicing care, the bravery that authenticity requires, and being in relationship to and with others, and how i communicate, all help to mitigate my fears.

in the last few years my fears have been: not having enough money, not giving my all to my art, ignoring my heart, giving into a scarcity mindset, and assault - the constant targeting of Black, Queer, Femme, GNC and Trans people being unalived, accosted in bathrooms, and attacked by legislation is not new and also feels (and is) compounded across (my) intersection(s). these fears haven’t overtaken my life, or stopped me from living. they have however required me to deepen my practices of self regulation, creative discipline, and abundance.

to be honest, i’ve never gotten used to peoples stares, whether it be the police or the policing public. its weird to have eyes glued to your body, your skin, your clothing, your expression. i do not get used to the compulsion of others need to consume or make legible, and that is what most of the stares feel like; a desire to consume/compute/make binary. I am not digestible, and seek no legibility. this consumption, these stares, and this desire for legibility boil down to perception.

some of my early adolescent poetry was around my struggle with the constrictive feeling of labels and the inescapability of the perception of others. while at current i feel more expansive and reject the boxes colonization clings to in order to define me, i have gotten comfortable labeling myself (non-binary, trans, queer boi). perception, however, is still a struggle, not so much the act of being perceived but the actions that fall in line with others perceptions. the microaggressions that loom so large, the energetic differences between intentional and passive aggressions, the refusal of respect which requires no understanding or agreeance, the expectation of silence in work spaces where harm is done, the delusion of entitlement that breeds relationship hierarchy with biological family members, and the consistent minimization of harm. while there is always space for giving grace, allowing others to learn, make mistakes, and continue to practice offering you respect; the key word here is practice.

i am actively in practice.