Existential Ballet

Black and White Stock Photo of busy pedestrians in an urban city.

Bent, Bashed, Broken… I am nursing my own wounds.

I am stretched out wide but still I am shrunken & overlooked.

Sitting on a throne above the heads of many yet I look each of them in the eye.

I wipe their tears & I hear their cries.

They all want to know the secret of my dances.

Why choose to survive when oppression’s vice grip breaks my bones?

Why does my heart continue its dances?

How do I keep up when the earth never stops spinning while dancing rewinds the clock on my face?

The dances that define my divinity burn within a soul that sings the songs & rule the time.

In that time, wherever I stand that space is mine.

It’s there where the dances are done, & in that space my soul’s songs are sung.

Spinning and Swirling I reach high with hopes of experiencing a new feel & don’t worry, I will.

A remarkable existence if I must say.

An adaptive sway for the intimate encounters that pass by my way.

These are the same dances done by the fire’s flames.

I waltz the same waltz that puddles waltz when it rains.

My tears are called resilience & my beads of sweat are named endurance.

You can master the secret of my dances. Watch me give you reassurance.

The messages might escape you but it’s not of your choosing.

The secret to my dance, is to just keep moving.

Acting like a female

https://seedandspark-static.s3.us-east-2.amazonaws.com/images/ProjectImage/000/034/263/large/ALW%20thumbnail%20FINAL%202.jpg?cb=34263

For as long as I can remember, men are not encouraged to be emotional simply because “you don’t want to be a bitch.” It is like an unspoken rule everywhere because it was the case in East Africa, Congo, Jamaica, and now in the United States. I remember back in my early childhood, whenever I fell and hurt myself playing outside, the people around would just whisper “shhh shh stop whining, be a MAN!” It was so engraved in me that every time I saw a boy crying, I would view him as weak, and incompetent; real men don’t cry. However, whenever I saw a girl crying, the first thing I would think of is “I wonder what is wrong with her? Does she need someone to talk to?” As I grew up and started experiencing more of life, I got that revealing moment like “Ok, I see why people cry now.” It’s not a secret that life gets hard. It will get hard for everyone no matter their background, and every once in a while, you will reach a point where you just have to let it all out. 

In my case, I found it difficult to cry, for instance, l will get really emotional but nothing will come out; no tears. So, I will end up forcing it out but to no avail. Next thing you know I’m on YouTube watching sad videos hoping they will pull a tear out of me like my situation isn’t terrible enough. An hour in after doing everything in my power, guess where I end up? On google just like every sensible person. There I typed, “why won’t tears come out when I cry.” The results were varying but I found it funny how one of the results was “you live in a dry climate; therefore, you don’t have a lot of water in the body.” I knew right away that this didn’t apply to me because it was a humid summer evening in Maryland and I sweat all the time. After a considerable amount of reflection and reading sources from mindbodygreen.com, I realized that the reason I won’t fully cry is that I won’t let myself get there, and that is because of all the cultural stigma that has been ingrained in me for years on end. Crying puts you in a vulnerable position and that can be hostile because we grew up seeing people get shamed and called names for simply expressing their emotions. It is very unfortunate that some people end up taking their own lives because they don’t feel comfortable or scared to express their emotions, so they end up burying them deep inside them until they can’t anymore. According to ourworldindata.org, men are twice more likely to commit suicide compared to women and the main reason is that most men would rather take their own lives than put themselves in a vulnerable position like sharing their deep feelings with the people around them. With proper education and awareness, we can eradicate stigmas like this and make it a safe place for everyone to share their feelings and have them be heard by someone. Just like the article by Iris Young Throwing like a girl, some actions and ideas just should have a gender attached to them because not only are they offensive, they can be hostile and take from one’s wellbeing.

on reclaiming your own agency

“Being perfect is boring, failing is fun.”  I’ve been reflecting on that phrase my roommate shared with me a few nights ago.  I had opened up quite a bit about my struggles with managing academic responsibilities with the expectations of my parents, in addition to whatever standards I have set for myself.  Unfortunately, “perfection,” or something close to it, is the end goal I’ve been conditioned to pursue throughout my academic career.  This has been farther compounded by the fact that I earned the title of the smart kid out of my four siblings (I even got the nickname “professor” for at least a year and a half).  Pair this with constantly having others comment on the excellence of your family and siblings, and now I’m not just chasing after perfection for my own sake, but to uphold my family name.   

A monstrous matryoshka

As I had read Susan Stryker’s article on trans rage and the comparison of Victor Frankenstein’s unfortunate monster, I found myself following each word closely. I had so rarely seen anyone talk so openly about the pains and sorrows that are hidden about transgender identity. The discussion in class presented an extremely important point on who is allowed to show and vocalize strong negative emotions like rage and pain. As a person of color, as a queer and transgender individual, my permission of showing these emotions has been quite small, but looking further inward I know that there are other reasons I am not one to show these emotions. For my last post I call upon Stryker’s voice of these negative emotions and a monstrous identity, but not for my transgender identity, but one I am coming to terms with existing within me. I open up the physical patchwork body of mine to see inwards, within the darkness I see a cage chained to the ground. Moving closer I can hear the rattling of anger, I peer inside the cage to see a gnarled and patched up figure, teeth unnaturally pointed and sharp objects partially embedded in its body. I instinctively know these objects were brandished weapons with the purpose of subduing and killing this figure, but they have failed. This figure was human once and I can’t help the sadness I feel seeing what has become of them.

“What happened to you?” I ask cautiously.

The pause feels deafening.

“I’d think you’d recognize us, not many come back from the war of trauma unscathed.”

It’s said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but no one should be forced to be this strong to the point of being caged in fear.

As an echo to the original article, my comparison of monstrous identity in regards to trauma is not one to be used against all who have trauma. This is my sole reclamation of my past and should never be used against individuals who do not wish to do the same. This post will include raw calls to mental health happenings in response to traumatic experiences. Though there will be no details of happenings, there are insinuations of abuse on varying levels.

Slow and Steady

Something I have always struggled with, like a lot of people, is my mental health. And I feel like there’s so many levels to this shit, that sometimes I can’t tell which part I’m actually struggling with. Is it the mental illness itself? It’s symptoms? Or is it me literally recognizing the presence of it?

Wrote this when I was sad

I just want to start by saying we don’t know what we are doing , falling into and out of vibes and unparalleled energies. As we try to balance our everyday struggles, constantly distracting ourselves from the stressors of reality and responsibilities. We often find ourselves feeling ways we can’t explain or understand , turning to music that capture every aspect of your situation freakily. You think you’re feeling better yet you’re just being thrown into an endless spiral of constantly being reminded , reminiscent , saddened. As you realize that that flame , that energy , that connection is coming to an end. Your body repulses the idea , your mind questions and berates the idea , you begin to feel in ways you probably never felt before. Then life catches up to you , while the world you created is shattering crashing before your eyes , you forgot about the world where you were created. Schoolwork , work , bills , your everyday commitments now all stalk you waiting to throw the next punch. What do you do?

Find another distraction!?? No. Build another world!?? No. Get up and get out there!? Noo. Sit and take it and try to understand why you feel this way. Unlock your emotions , become in tune with your body. Ground yourself , re-center, and realign yourself.

Realizing your worth , realizing that you have your own path in life, realizing that everyone in this world has their own life , and realizing that you have to focus on yourself. Will be the best thing for you , don’t force anything with time if . Put your focus and energy back into your life , recall all your energy that people have taken from you. Get back on your shit, excuse my French. Tu parle francais ? No , well maybe , but it’s just a saying. Healing your mental body , developing your physical body , nurturing your astral body.

If you’re reading this I just want to say , What are you waiting for?
“Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.” – Dr Seuss

SAY THIS WITH ME

Recovering my Body

TW: Relationship Violence

“You give really good, solid relationship advice.” “Thanks! It’s cause I’ve ruined all my relationships.”: Perhaps better off alone

Most people see being told they give good relationship advice and are very considerate to the other people in the relationship as a good thing, but I can’t help that it feels like the bane of my existence currently. It’s like I’m helping people study for relationships and communication 101 and they proudly show me their A with the attached “thanks to your help!” while I shuffle on with my F and backlog of assignments.

Winning the Game

It took me a while to realize that my former social anxiety has morphed into a new form: what I call health anxiety.

Sorry I Can’t Come, My Anxiety Wore Me Out

All my life, I’ve been fighting through mental illnesses since far before I was aware of it. The first battle was learning how to function with bipolar disorder and depression. Then I jumped right to dealing with my eating disorder. Trichotillomania was next. When I finally had everything sorted out this summer, I felt myself sighing in relief. It was hard, but I could live now. Sure, it’s still extremely difficult, but at least I have a little bit more of a handle on life than I ever had.

And then anxiety showed up.

All my life, I’ve been fighting through mental illnesses since far before I was aware of it. The first battle was learning how to function with bipolar disorder and depression. Then I jumped right to dealing with my eating disorder. Trichotillomania was next. When I finally had everything sorted out this summer, I felt myself sighing in relief. It was hard, but I could live now. Sure, it’s still extremely difficult, but at least I have a little bit more of a handle on life than I ever had.

And then anxiety showed up.