Wearable words designed to rewrite the narrative, one doubletake at a time.
Perception is (not) reality
Decades spent dampening my muchness left me with impeccable manners and the uneasy suspicion I’d become my own understudy.
Behave.
An instruction so deeply woven into womanhood it barely even registers. If we mould ourselves just right, we’re promised the spoils. Except the reward for being gold-medal ‘good’ is automatic qualification into the next ’hood that’s got more rules and still no finish line.
It’s a hell of a hook. Give a fierce competitor an impossible race and they’ll spend a lifetime trying to find a way to win. I’d unwittingly signed up for endless performance reviews where my strengths kept being received as flaws, every criticism proof I needed to try harder.
More recently than I care to admit, the business of staying palatable got too ridiculous to ignore.
I held up my side of the bargain, but apparently that was never the point. So, in the spirit of continuous improvement, I’m taking up disobedience and practising behaving (as) myself.
Welcome to the Wrong Side of 25.
Thank fuck we made it.
Notes from the Field
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Intimidating? Likely intimidated.
There’s a particularly ironic sting in realising you’ve spent years making yourself manageable because you knew what they saw wasn't allowed.
Intimidating? Likely intimidated.
There’s a particularly ironic sting in realising you’ve spent years making yourself manageable because you knew what they saw wasn't allowed.
