I just wanna write…
According to the National Library of Medicine, “Imposter syndrome (IS) is a behavioral health phenomenon described as self-doubt of intellect, skills, or accomplishments among high-achieving individuals. These individuals cannot internalize their success and subsequently experience pervasive feelings of self-doubt, anxiety, depression, and/or apprehension of being exposed as a fraud in their work, despite verifiable and objective evidence of their successfulness.” This definition didn’t resonate until postpartum hit. Until, a new love came into my life and sort of pushed my long time relationship with writing, underneath the bed. At first, I thought, “I’ll get back to it, soon enough… I just had a baby.” Yet, that “soon enough” turned into stagnancy and a fight to even complete a thought on paper. I found myself feeling guilty for wanting to spend time alone, to be with our relationship again.
I found myself trying to write when I thought I had the time, only to be paused by my baby’s desire for mommy’s attention. I guess, in a way, she’s my second child to writing, because every story that a mother may share about the 1st child having to go without a little attention for awhile, aligned with my reality. It was almost like at times, my child could feel the energy flowing from my gut through my heart, to my mind, then back down to my fingertips as I attempted to lay down words and she’d immediately call out for, “mommy”. Knowing I wanted nothing more than to soothe her, yet and still, I did, just wanna write.
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I’m pregnant, again. This time I feel heavier than before. Although, I find myself again, trying to rationalize with my mind instead of crying the way I truly feel my body wants to. (There were times in my first pregnancy where I wanted to cry, but didn’t. I didn’t want to feel like a burden. I had a sorry complex of wanting to remain a certain kind of peaceful and non-confrontational that ultimately left me resentful. Don’t try this at home.) This pregnancy feels heavier because I am birthing not just my own lineage, but the untold mysteries of a sorta-fictional homeland and the many journeys of its natives. I am birthing a story, that consist of many stories, that all connect and correct a detrimental apocalyptic idea that we have been fed for far too long. You know, I come from a people who, for centuries, have suffered through choices and decisions mostly made for us. We have always remained resilient but we have lost a lot. We have been told that we are powerless… We have been made to feel powerless. Our power seems to determine the direction of the world, yet, we have not taken it back and fully embodied, yet. I come from a people who are under a deeper imposter syndrome than postpartum has shown me. So, in this way, I am pregnant for my people as well. With a narrative to share about reimagining OUR world and what the effects of centuries of suffering could truly look like for us. Not the “look like” that they want us to have, but what we are capable of because our DNA has already promised it.
“She could restore her own, of course. Since the pain had not killed her, and since she understood what she had done to produce the disorder, she could simply, carefully replace the damaged vessels, then dissolve away the unless hardened tissue, become the physiologically young woman she had been since the time of her transition.”
- Octavia Butler, Wildseed, pg. 188 lines 27-33
Last night, I went to see the Colored Museum again with my Aquarius loved one. As soon as I walked through the door, I was spotted by THE Troy Populous. For those who don’t know, he led the Theatre department at THE McDonough 35 for many years and deeply influenced a great number of our favorite creatives (I’ll name Rahim Glaspy and leave it at THAT). Very delighted to see one another, he introduced me to one of his stage managers and as, “A writer, who is a former student,” NOT, “A former student, who is a writer.” In that moment, my soul was completely penetrated by remembrance. I was both stunned and awakened by the acknowledgment. For one, Pop is a legend, and two, I have again, been struggling with a deep imposter syndrome so for someone who I admire in real life to REMEMBER who I am, outside of high school memories, was entirely impactful to me. I didn’t know I needed a simple introduction. I didn’t know that I am remembered for what I’ve done by people who inspire me. Or maybe I did know, but these are the struggles of the syndrome. At any rate, it lifted my spirit and confirmed my trajectory. Also, I am fully aware that this gift of writing is God given but when you are healing and trying to rediscover yourself, validation and recognition is important for a HUMAN. Y’all (we) need to understand this.
Tomorrow, I have a writing session with a dear friend, co-writer/co-author, whom I trust the most with my words that I desire to publish. I asked him to help me ground myself in what I am getting ready to birth. I DO care how my writings make people feel. I DO care about if it heals or not. My friend is honest and rational and sensitive, things that a pregnant person needs from a loved one. I want to share narratives of birthing, death, diasporic mysteries, destruction of colonization, and resilience of a colonized people, with all the nooks and crannies amplified. This birth will be grounding and revolutionary and will remind myself and the world not only why I just wanna write, but why I MUST write.
Something that irritates you and won’t let you go. That’s the anguish of it. Do this book, or die. You have to go through that. Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but most of all, endurance.
- James Baldwin
