I recently went to an open mic and recited one of the poems I’ve been sitting on for a couple of months. The poem depicts the experience of being sexualized as a Black woman, and how that situation can often garner unwanted responses.
When I performed this poem at the open mic, I didn’t expect the response I received: the deep hums, or the applause afterward. Whenever one of my friends takes the mic, that response is warranted because they’re so amazing at the craft. Yet when I step in front of the crowd, I’m always surprised by which lines seem to resonate with the crowd. I’m shocked when I finish and the applause follows me to my seat, which is always conveniently out of the line of sight. I don’t like being noticed in a room, but I long to be there. I feel I'm doing my best as long as I’m in the space.
I’ve written about my social anxiety before, and I must say being in this creative community of artists has encouraged me to push back against the inner monologue of criticism that persists in my mind. I now play Uno with strangers on open mic nights. I ask them about their pieces and I try not to overthink silence in conversation (I now characterize them as thoughtful pauses instead of awkward). I speak to folks that I may not have encountered before, and my writing is greatly influenced by them.
Yet I have this nagging paranoia that insists that people aren’t telling me the truth about my art. I work on a podcast episode and people tell me that they enjoyed the episode. People email me to share their affection for this newsletter. My poetry friends hype up my pieces, but it always lands on critical ears.
But did y’all really like it? Are you just trying to be nice to me? Surely, you’ve heard better.
During one of our infamous after-hour coffee shop talks (read about finding your creative superpower here), my friend talked about the difference between awareness and ignorance of talent. In the world of slam poetry, someone who is ignorant of their talent is constantly surprised by audience reactions. Their poem comes to a halt while the audience audibly connects with a line in their work, causing the poet to lose control of their momentum.
Yet a poet who is fully aware of their talent is not swayed by audience feedback. The poet doesn’t halt, and they don’t lose momentum. It’s as if the audience adds fuel to the vehicle of their creativity to drive the poem home in the minds of the audience. Sometimes the poem stays for the night, but it can remain for the rest of their lives.
Think of it as being active versus passive. A passive creative is affected by the room; an active creative allows themselves to affect the room. It all comes down to who the poet allows to be in the driver’s seat of their vehicle.
Can you guess which one I am? 😂
I’ve been intentional recently about dismantling the negative core beliefs I have about myself, which also means confronting the positive aspects of myself that I’ve been disqualifying as “not enough.” I learned that I’m actually a high achiever, something I wouldn’t have classified myself in my collegiate years. My high achievement tendencies weren’t technically toward academics, even though I did graduate with magna cum laude attached to my name. Many assignments went undone and I didn’t feel bad about it. But when it comes to something I desire to excel in, I give it my all. I learned that my gifting involves words and connection. It feels strange to say, but that’s all I know at the moment. I’m still leaning into my natural abilities and resting until I find the words to say.
Even acknowledging that I’m gifted feels like a lie I’m trying to convince myself to believe. I attribute that “lie” to a few cultural realities in my life. When I think about my faith and the Christian community I was raised in (more like a cult, but that’s a story for another time), the idea of acknowledging a gift felt more like pride, and they noted that God resists people with such an emotion. The goal is to be like Jesus, to be lowly and meek, which depending on your interpretation could lead to not knowing your worth or a lack of boundaries, turning the cheek a little too passively, or being a people pleaser who relies on the validation of others to affirm their being because it seems like God isn’t affirming of the gifts He freely gave. It seems some Christians don’t realize that Jesus himself acknowledged his power given by God on several occasions.
I also think about my melanated skin and my womanhood, a combination that society always desires to bully into obscurity. Take LSU basketball player Angel Reese, who became a recipient of internet vitriol when she mimicked her opponent Caitlin Clark’s move last year during the national championship. When Caitlin used the “you can’t use me” move, it was a mark of competitiveness. When Angel used the “you can’t use me” move, white people called her aggressive and a player with poor sportsmanship. Unfortunately, these comments brought Angel to tears this year, and people still want to berate her for a “lack of humility.”
Black women are constantly asked to minimize themselves for the comfort of others, and in the case of Angel Reese, her talent, and her unapologetic knowledge of that talent, makes her an undeniable force.
We should stop believing that acknowledging a gift means we are being cocky or arrogant. We’re just more attuned with who we are, and the best part about that truth is that it doesn’t need to be validated publicly to be worthy. One of society’s greatest lies is that everyone must have a platform, and the statistics of that platform determine its value. Currently, 62 of you all receive my emails, and just under 1,000 people have listened to my podcast. Sure, the numbers aren’t monumental compared to other newsletters/podcasts, and depending on what I’m willing to spend and how much time I’m able to devote, I could get more. But I’ve learned that I’m comfortable here, and since I’ve taken the time to believe what I assumed were lies, I know that I’m being impactful.
I love when fellow creatives reach out for an opportunity to share their work and their story on my platform. I smile when people comment on what I’ve written and tell me their takeaways. However, I realized that my passion projects began to be the source of my validation rather than the outpouring of my creativity. Our validation should stem from who we are as individuals. Have you ever considered that our creative talents flow freely when we accept who we are as people?
What happens when your talent is fully realized? When you know your talent has entered a room, how would you control its environment? How would you shift the atmosphere?
When you step up to the stage, fully aware of your talent, your inner critic has to be silent. It has no other choice. You now have the floor.
What does Laraya like this week?
🎧🎵: I love this beautiful song by Cordelia. It’s been bringing me comfort through these rough few months.
Love of wisdom & wander? Check out some more posts:
See you soon,
Laraya 🧡