Entry Six
90 Days of Belonging has reminded me that when you begin unraveling one thread, you realize how it touches the entire garment. I began this project writing about the guilt of feeling not Black enough to create Fundamental Hunger. The more I wrote, the easier it was to access other pain points, and other parts of myself. This is incredibly important. We can get so stuck on doing things the “right” way, or trying to stay on an exact path, that we don’t let what is coming forward fully reveal itself. We aren’t able to see how everything connects. We refuse to be okay with letting things settle in their own time. We are afraid to have things be a little bit messy.
My 90 Days of Belonging might not seem super succinct. The words that poured out of me were not always about the initial emotion that led me to initially begin. That is okay. If I had continued to force certain thoughts, or a direction, I wouldn’t have connected with the honesty of certain moments.
It is okay to course-correct. It is safe to not have every answer right now. It is necessary to allow ourselves to change our minds. You never know what you might unearth. Below is a tender entry about my body, that I am so grateful I let myself write. I hope you find comfort in what it might bring up for you.
March 27th, 2022:
Today I bought a swimsuit. This is a mundane purchase for most people. It might even be exciting for others, because the purpose of a swimsuit is to be in or near water. To play. To hopefully have your toes in the sand and the sun on your skin. To lounge by a pool or any body of water. To soak in its warmth and feel the way it delicately soothes you.
I haven’t worn a swimsuit in years. And the last time I did, I had to. I think it was for a bachelorette party or something. Another form of hiding in my life has been through intentionally and unconsciously hiding my body. Covering myself. Not exposing my legs and avoiding the unbearable raw feeling that consumes me when the thought of putting on a swimsuit comes to mind. Since I was a kid, my pain had been projected onto my appearance. I latched onto hating my body vs healing from within. I think it was because I had no idea where to start. The most obvious one was my appearance. Do you relate to this in any way? Pushing away a feeling you can’t comprehend, and instead you become determined to change what you choose to see in the mirror?
It seems like the only way out is to find something tangible that can be fixed through your external world. I was hurting so I decided if I can change the way my body looks, then I will feel better. Many years later, my body changing was never the answer.
Today I tried on a swimsuit and decided to no longer identify as the person who lived in shame. It’s astounding how long we comply with old rules that our former self created. Seeing how far we have come, but continuing to not let go of the structure from our past. When I went into that dressing room I was taken aback by how quiet my critical voice was. Familiar thoughts came in, but I was able to allow myself to feel beautiful. It wasn’t hard. There wasn’t a strenuous back and forth of trying to convince myself. I did not spiral into a place that in the past, caused me to cancel plans, or go through an experience with intense agony that no one knew.
I think it’s hard to discuss because I have also been admired for my looks. I am not surprised when people think I am beautiful, but the pain came from me not understanding why don’t I think this way about myself? What are they seeing? Which turned into needing that validation because I couldn’t find it from within. Has this happened to you in your own unique way? Being admired for your wits, beauty, or charm, only to yearn to feel what others felt about you? The thing I didn’t realize at a young age was that it wasn’t about the thing people were pointing out that I wanted more of. I wanted the internal confidence that I didn’t know I could create.
Growing up, wearing a swimsuit also triggered the sheer panic of possibly getting darker. I grew up around white people who effortlessly laid in the sun trying to get “as dark as me.” The horrible joke many Black people know too well when growing up in white spaces. I didn't need to “work on my tan”, but in my mind I already believed I was too dark to begin with. I believed the sun was going to make me less desirable. The darker I get, the more unloveable I will become. I hated seeing the lines from shirts indicating that I got darker. The evidence swallowed me whole. I hated people noticing, because most of my life people noticed how dark I was. It was either not okay, or I was beautiful in spite of it.
Today I chose to not hide from myself. And I was pleasantly surprised with my energetic posture. How will we know what we’re capable of if we don’t give ourselves a chance? Today, I gave myself a chance. Walking into that dressing room allowed me to see that I could belong in a place free of strife. A place that did not shout belittling language from parts of myself that seek revenge and control on my physical appearance. One of the most precious miracles is to be able to witness your transformation in real time. To be in awe of who you have become and where you are going. To be open to notice the subtle or grand changes you have made in your life and the relationship you hold with yourself. Today I was blessed with this miracle. Today I was able to embrace it.
I hope to marvel at my future blessings, too.
Journal prompts:
What does it mean to belong to your body? What does it feel like to belong to your body?
From these descriptions, how often do you visit this place? Is it familiar or foreign?
What is something you have wanted to do or feel, but have not given yourself permission to?
What are you currently forcing, rather than being steady in its disarray?
How may you benefit from shedding a restriction that no longer serves you?
In the meantime, don’t forget to give yourself a chance.