It was easier to sit back and allow the world to label me as they so choose; easier to play the victim, to wait for life to happen, for the universe or cosmos to favour me and for someone to save me. It was easier to allow my value to be determined by men and women who know nothing of my struggles, who know nothing of the places I’ve been, the things I’ve witnessed and the dreams I have.
It was easier to remain palatable, to be a comfortable shade of black or a pleasant personality where I remained an asexual, racially and culturally ambiguous, omnipresent observer to the thrills of another’s success, another’s life.
It was easier to not make a noise and not be seen, when all I wanted was to be seen.
Turns out I was never designed for easy.
I was never meant to sit back and allow others to dictate the trajectory of my life, to speak on the value of my existence or contributions for their benefit.
I was never meant to remain complacent, to not experience life, to not reach for the stars, to not be loud and obnoxious and present.
I was meant to make a splash, to be seen and heard and revered and desired and put first, all while I celebrated the blackness that so clearly defines a very large part of me.
I cannot wait, I will not wait; I am more than enough, more than capable, more than incredible and more than any one person can handle.
I have fielded worse rejections and will celebrate greater acceptances than you will ever know.
I am dramatic, eccentric, mysterious, a gladiator; not just a gladiator, but I own the whole damn arena.
I’m not the entertainment; I’m here to show you how it’s done.
I found a voice today; a voice to help narrate the worlds I want to create, the lives I want to build and break and a voice I need to move past the island I’ve been stranded on for the past, I don’t know how long.
Not my own, no; I don’t trust my own voice to convey the kinds of emotions these future souls need to inherit. My own voice doesn’t fit; it doesn’t have the range, there’s a vacant lilt to it that does nothing for fertile earth.
This voice sounds like it used to belong to another, much wiser, considerate and cautious creature with a secret. That’s what it is, it sounds like every sentence is poised for attacked, coiled and at the ready for a lethal strike just waiting to happen, and only it knows when.
The moments I have with this new voice will be fleeting, that I know of. It’ll come, it’ll give willingly and take with it whatever it desires and it’ll go. To whom it’ll appear to next, I don’t know, but I will treat it kindly, respect it dutifully and use it for as long as it is willing to be used.