Reserved yet Riotous

Lately, I honestly don’t feel like talking. I don’t feel like showing up and showing out. I don’t feel like taking up any more space than my body naturally takes up. I just want to be. But being a Black girl, you can never truly just be.

The career path I’ve chosen rewards a voice that controls and commands the room, a sharp tongue, being witty, bravado, and an overall level of performance and engagement that I just don’t have in me anymore. Let us also not forget the world and social media putting on a pedestal the “brave Black girls”--- the ones who show up and show out, are sexual divas, creative in their fashion and hairstyle, and take up space. You’ve seen it all over social media. It's in the carefully crafted content telling you to take up space, stop playing small, brag on yourself, you are IT sis!

But the fact of the matter is, I know I’m it. I know I’m the ish. But I have no desire to prove it or push it anymore than my natural aura already emits.

I find myself in a constant battle between showing up and just existing and I don’t always know which feels the most me. I mean I can command a room, but do I want to? My voice moves mountains but maybe I’m tired? My presence and personality is contagious, but what if I want to save all of the pieces that I am for those I love…just for me? Settling the complexities of my being for my own sanity is one thing, but I also have the added pressure of showing up in the world and my career where a constant and certain demeanor is expected. I don’t blame people for shying away from those whose energy is inconsistent. I’ve often found myself frustrated, trying to figure out why I feel comfortable living out loud around some people and around others I shrink.

I came across an Instagram post the other day and it said something along the lines of:

“I no longer identify people as good or bad. Just safe or not safe. Aligned or unaligned.”

I finally found language to express my feelings.

I believe there was a point in my life where I gave my full self to the world. I lived in my full color and being. But as I’m evolving in my womanhood and gaining wisdom as I gather life experiences, I realize how much exposure allows you to be mishandled by people who were never supposed to be able to reach you in the first place. My full self is not for everyone. Realizing this has slowly allowed me to refrain from hurt and heal past wounds. There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t think I need to label myself in terms of shy, reserved, introvert, though I can be those things and their complete opposites. Rather I can be shy or showy, reserved or riotous, introverted or inviting. My body has to confirm you are safe before I allow you access. And oh boy, does my body tell me.

I used to mull over why I couldn’t just be social in certain settings or why I clammed up around certain people. My mind wanted to act in total disaccord with my body. But my body was staying true to my heart and soul and was protecting me. My body lets me know who's safe and who’s not. Who’s aligned and unaligned. My body has always let me know what was up and I’m slowly learning to heed its guidance.

So no, I don’t perform. But I do dance. I move through the world to the beat of my own rhythm. Sometimes the beat is loud. Most of the time, it's quiet yet full of life, like still waters.

SoeSoulFull Suggestion: Chapter 2: Not Double Consciousness but the Consciousness of Surrender from The Sovereignty of Quiet: Beyond Resistance in Black Culture by Kevin E. Quashie

Quashie - Not Double Consciousness but the Consciousness of Surrender.pdf

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