To Find Myself

To find something, you have to have either lost it, which infers that you had it at some point... or that you should have it because it is yours... or that you didn’t have it, stumbled upon it, and because of this it is now yours. I used to laugh at the idea of someone trying to “find themselves”, that is until I realized that I was lost.

I know, you read the subtitle: but you see, I was lost not because I misplaced my identity, but because I had allowed others to take it from me and replace who I am with who they thought I should be. No, I am not talking about sextual orientation. (Bummer right?) but I am talking about the root of what makes up who we are.

I have the lottery demographic (insert sarcasm if you feel it), I am a black woman (one table spoon Native American, two cups of an assortment of African descent, and a pinch of Irish). Yes, that is the exact recipe. And I am one hundred percent a woman, thank you very much. But the funny thing is, that you reader (A) will take note of this information and feel a totally different way than reader (B) will.

Go back to the beginning of the last paragraph, I’ll wait. Did you see the part where you were promoted to choose to read sarcasm into the narrative? I always did. I live in a world where everyone has a map but me (don’t worry I’ll skip the pity party), or so I thought. Turns out, I didn’t need a map of how to be like everyone else. How to find a way to present myself as this world sees fit. I found out that the best version of me was here all along.

Ladies, we all have been there, cringing while others tell us: “your too pretty to eat that”, “you would be so beautiful if...”, “airheads act like that...”, and so on. So have I.

Yet, after twenty years of adjusting myself to seem “smarter”, to look “pretty”, to not look “vain” or “slutty”, to be respected, to be liked, I realized a very important fact. People can be stupid. (Not you reader *air kiss*). People will say that they prefer you to be just like everyone else, until you become unique and unapologetically you. Then they will say you are brave (although behind your back if they are jealous). Then they will say you are beautiful. But if you are wise, you won’t care what they say. Because you will know who you are. Because you will have found yourself beneath the alterations that media and culture and friends and family and yourself have imposed upon you that detracted from the beauty that was natural. You are art.

If a painter says of their own work- it is a mistake! Everyone will believe them. You are your appraiser. Tell the world your worth. Ditch the alterations and be beautiful: you are a natural.

I am a black woman. I am more than my color. I am more than my gender. I am more than my size and the texture of my hair. I choose to be beautiful. I choose to be myself. I found that that’s the way I like it.