“As long as you have a rough idea who you are, you will be ok” ~ My father, comforting me
I vaguely remember the image of myself that I carved in my head as a 10-year-old;
Pencil skirt and long blonde hair, meaning business with every stride of her heels,
Strong and soft at the same time,
Capable and interested to challenge herself,
Playful in her different roles and stage appearances…
One thing I can assure you of today is that I am not blonde with long straight hair, but owner of a curly mane that has its own mind, and a collection of identities!
I do wear skirts occasionally, but also pants as well as an Abaya…depending on my location
I do feel strong while I lift weights, but helpless among my male counterparts at home, where my physical strength cannot hide the restrictions I am fighting.
I do feel capable and energetic as I plan my day at work, and how I will negotiate deals, but then forget all kinds of reason when my freedom is questioned by a younger family member, with the born right of being a man.
I do love the power my fingertips possess against a keyboard, but despise the weakness that cameras have when directed at a moment of shining triumph, and the only thought I have is “How will my public image be met by relatives?”
And then I turn to instagram- and I see my beloved Mum’s comments “You are amazing my star” and I tear…she was mirroring that hope she never had to me, to become what she wanted to, against all odds.
And then I say goodbye to her and with it, I forget who I am and why should I bother.
“How sad and exciting it is to be both lost and also know we are just about to find our way” ~ Mark Groves