“Who are you?”
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself and others lately. I wrote that I don’t want to be “me” anymore and I mean it. I’m working on unraveling this current version of me and becoming something new. But what is “me”? And…who are you?
When people ask, I say things like, “I’m a doll collecting weirdo who loves strange stories, cool music, and the color pink. I like breaking down cartoons and extracting life lessons. I love playing dress up and switching my synthetic wigs.”
But is that really who I am?
I spend money on all those things. I consume content made by companies with huge marketing budgets. I buy tickets to concerts and buy up merch. Those are just things I find comfort in when capitalism comes calling. They’re not really me.
We’ve learned to bond over buying. Form communites around consumption—and criticism. Discussing a new book that’s just released or buying from the same brand seems to connect us. Complaining about the way things are made while indulging in them all the same is like the glue binding us to eachother. And that’s not always a bad thing.
Personally, I felt the most accepted in recent years when I was in doll collecting Discords complaining about poly hair and lack of articulation. The higher my doll shelf towered, the more my identity as a doll collector deepened. I was part of something. And I still am. I still love every single purchase I made. I still think they’re cunty 😤. I still love that I was blessed with the opportunity to write for a doll brand, too.
And I still recognize that that is only an outer layer of “me”. An acceptable version of me. A me who generates profit. Take the things I’ve made my personal “brand” away and what am I left with?
I’ve lamented over the fact that no one really knows me. No one can know any of us as deeply as we’d like. We’re only seen how we’re seen. And perception is shaped by culture, physical features, age, race, gender, sexuality, life experiences and the things we’re told.
I know how I’m perceived.
Sometimes my writing is read, not with nuance, but through the lens of a crybaby of a girl blogging her little diva feelings on her little pink laptop. If I was a man, it’d be read differently. If I wasn’t Black it’d be read differently. But I’m an awkward, giggly, scatter-brained woman who wears makeup and poofy skirts. So, it’s silly fodder. Or pointed gossip (I write about patterns, not people-unless they give me permission).
Is how I’m percieved who I am?
It doesn’t feel like it. But everywhere I turn I’m being treated like an airheaded “diva” (or an annoying weirdo), rather than a struggling woman with a universe inside her mind who only wanted connection—whatever that means. Because I don’t know anymore. Any self-centeredness I possess revolves around self-criticism, self-flaggelation, and self-blame—unfortunately. I just happen to like press on nails and lip gloss. And if you’re also a hyper femme woman you know the Elle Woods treatment is real!
And you also know no amount of explaining changes how people see you. Sometimes the closer up they get, the more distorted their vision. I’ve been called strange enough times to understand that. So I understand my writing here is a futile exercise in self-expression. But I’m hoping someone out there understands.
You’re not what you buy. You can’t be how you’re seen because each person sees you differently, through their own tinted lenses. Are you the way you treat others? Or the way people treat you? You can’t be…because we treat people differently based on how we see them, what we need from them, how they treat us, who they remind us of, etc.
Are you the things you say? People say things they don’t mean all the time. People even lie to themselves.
Are you what you’re willing to fight for? Maybe this is it. Maybe you’re what makes you smile. Or what makes you cry. Or maybe we’re whatever we decide we are at any given moment.
For now, until I decide…I feel like nothing. You may see me post outfits and smiling videos and keep pushing but that’s not me. That’s who I need to be to get by.
What do you think? Who are you?
Also, I know these posts have been a bit down lately, with no “advice”, but I am unable to perform confidence or joy at this moment. Or really any moment that I don’t truly feel it. And I think sharing is part of who I am. I’ll have to think of why, ha. But I know from the authors I like to read and the essayists here that I’m not alone in it. And I’m always trying and always moving forward.
I know I justttt said who are you when you’re not spending money but I do have cool things to share because as much as I know capitalism sucks I still engage in it. Life!
I absolutely love this Ariana Grande music video. The song, the aesthetics, the message. It’s everything!
Artist Astronym is raising money! Check out her digital comics and coloring pages.
Magical writer Jamila Rowser also has digital comics available in her shop!
Kembeckled has a BL/GL collection that I’ve been eyeingggg
Thank you for reading! If you would like to support me, check out the links below:
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