Time for a new blog. Life story! Three, two, one, go!
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
Ive spent the majority of my life trying to be something I wasnt. I grew up on a tiny island off the coast of Florida that youve never heard of. Sanibel is 97.99% White and 0.94% African American. As young child I suffered through brutal bullying and rejection as a result of my race. I did everything that my six year old brain could think of that would make my classmates like, but to no avail. Finally my mother, in her infinite wisdom, transferred me to a school with more diversity on the mainland. Unfortunately, this decision only complicated and compounded my identity void. My new school had an abundance of Black people. However, they hated me. I wasnt black enough. I didnt speak the same way. I didnt listen to the same music. So I tried to learn how to be like them. Of course, it was a dismal failure.
By the time I was in middle school I was angry. I raged at the children with whom Id once desperately wanted companionship. I felt like they deserved a taste of their own medicine and I fed it to them liberally and gladly. Yet, I was still alone and I derived no satisfaction from ridiculing them. The rage soon subsided and largely disappeared by the time I was in high school. But soon insecurity took the place of rage. I became positively phobic of being stereotyped. I did everything in my power to not be the stereotypical black girl. I wanted to exude uniqueness. I wanted everyone to know how not black I was. It took me five long years to realize how completely irrelevant that was.
I realized that I would never have inner joy as long as I was trying to be something I wasnt. But who am I? It took me a three years and a vocabulary lesson to realize I am a pansexual, polyamorous, short-tempered, hyper-kinky, fashion-junkie, politics-addict who lives and breathes EBM and Miley Cyrus. But I say, in the most clich of fashions, that is not the end of the story. It is the beginning. Because now that I know who I am, I must be that person in the very best way possible.
Honesty is the first step. Ive decided to be that person to everyone in my life. As a pansexual in the military with a goal such as this, its rough. So much of my persona stems from my sexuality and my perspective on sexuality. Which brings me to my point. When I read that, I nearly cried. It was a strange reaction because Ive always been massively conflicted about the policy. I always looked at it from the macro-perspective. How would this affect the force? I dont date women (too much work) so I never felt personally impacted by the policy. But truly, the glimmer of hope brought tears to my eyes. I wouldnt have to hide my love for the female form. What a small thing to affect me so much.
If it passes, Ill be able to be myself with a new group of people with whom I couldn't before. Ill be closer to my goal of being honest with everyone in my life. Closer to being exactly who I want to be. Closer to having my inner joy.
Thanks for reading my cheeseball blog.
Ive spent the majority of my life trying to be something I wasnt. I grew up on a tiny island off the coast of Florida that youve never heard of. Sanibel is 97.99% White and 0.94% African American. As young child I suffered through brutal bullying and rejection as a result of my race. I did everything that my six year old brain could think of that would make my classmates like, but to no avail. Finally my mother, in her infinite wisdom, transferred me to a school with more diversity on the mainland. Unfortunately, this decision only complicated and compounded my identity void. My new school had an abundance of Black people. However, they hated me. I wasnt black enough. I didnt speak the same way. I didnt listen to the same music. So I tried to learn how to be like them. Of course, it was a dismal failure.
By the time I was in middle school I was angry. I raged at the children with whom Id once desperately wanted companionship. I felt like they deserved a taste of their own medicine and I fed it to them liberally and gladly. Yet, I was still alone and I derived no satisfaction from ridiculing them. The rage soon subsided and largely disappeared by the time I was in high school. But soon insecurity took the place of rage. I became positively phobic of being stereotyped. I did everything in my power to not be the stereotypical black girl. I wanted to exude uniqueness. I wanted everyone to know how not black I was. It took me five long years to realize how completely irrelevant that was.
I realized that I would never have inner joy as long as I was trying to be something I wasnt. But who am I? It took me a three years and a vocabulary lesson to realize I am a pansexual, polyamorous, short-tempered, hyper-kinky, fashion-junkie, politics-addict who lives and breathes EBM and Miley Cyrus. But I say, in the most clich of fashions, that is not the end of the story. It is the beginning. Because now that I know who I am, I must be that person in the very best way possible.
Honesty is the first step. Ive decided to be that person to everyone in my life. As a pansexual in the military with a goal such as this, its rough. So much of my persona stems from my sexuality and my perspective on sexuality. Which brings me to my point. When I read that, I nearly cried. It was a strange reaction because Ive always been massively conflicted about the policy. I always looked at it from the macro-perspective. How would this affect the force? I dont date women (too much work) so I never felt personally impacted by the policy. But truly, the glimmer of hope brought tears to my eyes. I wouldnt have to hide my love for the female form. What a small thing to affect me so much.
If it passes, Ill be able to be myself with a new group of people with whom I couldn't before. Ill be closer to my goal of being honest with everyone in my life. Closer to being exactly who I want to be. Closer to having my inner joy.
Thanks for reading my cheeseball blog.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
and i did the uniqueness thing i high school too. i was never voted it though, because superlatives were a popularity contest (i lost out to a girl who wasn't unique at all, she was just a wannabe "hardcore punk" who was wearing abercrombie the year before, but she was more popular)
you should read my cheeseball blog. the one before the video blog one. not to proclaim martyr-dom, but i've been through some fucking rough ass shit since the age of 16, and even before that.
i don't know if i can ever be myself. i think when you realize you can't, you start creating a self you're not. it affects you, but to you it's what feels safe. and it sucks.
i have no idea what i'm getting at here. but i hope you do.