I don’t know if you’re anything like me, but if you are, you may rarely indulge in the practice of bragging. Depending on what environment I’m in, I feel more or less assured of my innate confidence I carry with me everywhere. We could have various conversation, debates and newsletters that define how much pride or self trust is worth communicating, specifically when and where you should express it or keep it to yourself and how those conventions change. For some people this is a relief, because they don’t enjoy having such attention directed towards them. I am not those people.
Believe it or not, I used to be a very shy person. Any of my family or friends could tell you that I grew up timid, afraid of my own shadow and also anyone else's. I’m not exactly sure why this is, seeing as my parents (and especially my mother, my primary educator until high school) encouraged me, lifted me up and fostered an environment of self exploration for me to play in. I knew myself very well always, I was just afraid to share her.
Scratch what I said previously, I know exactly what made me who I was. Isolation made me curl into myself for fear of not fitting in, exactly what every however-many-years-old girl wants. I found comfort in myself, my mind and the tangible things those two could grasp such as reading, because I had not yet learned that books can alienate people too. Fast forward to high school, maybe 2020 or so. A young Leah was beginning to realize that it wasn’t odd to believe the things people say about you, and accepting compliments was something she could do! When people said I was smart, or pretty, or talented, I was no longer shocked at their acknowledgement of my presence, but rather turned to gratitude for their company and kindness. Being surrounded by people determined to actively uplift one another and myself made a world of a difference, yet it took my own ability to own up to my accomplishments and attributes to cement the idea of confidence into my head.
A lot of this concept is also inherently tied to my blackness. You can’t talk about me being anything without being black, and that is a fact I’ve become determined to remain uncompromising on. In the past, I’d shrunk the best parts of myself under excuses of assimilation, lack of knowledge and again, isolation. The last two years or so have been formative in my self perception in that now I refuse to let anyone take my blackness away from me. My insights, experiences, gifts and personality are all compounded and added to by my blackness, and it is one of the primary reasons I excel. I will say that this isolation does not get easier. Having a hyper-awareness of the insidiously antiblack structures around you and people that represent them can be very discouraging, much as being finely attuned to microaggressions and effects of antiblackness around you 24/7. Constantly questioning whether it's possible that everyone else doesn’t notice this, or keeping a mental count of instances in which you were the only person like you in a room are habits that I don’t believe will leave my psyche any time soon.
In the face of nonblack environments, executives, authorities and peers, it can be easy to buckle or diminish that part of myself in favor of comfortability. The unfortunate universal experience of black students being singled out in nonblack classroom environments to speak on racism and topics surrounding it has happened to me more than once and if I had the opportunity to walk through those experiences again with the knowledge I have now, they would be very different. Part of standing up for myself now is accepting that those past experiences were wrong, unhealthy, and committing to making sure they don’t occur for black people in those spaces again.
This also goes hand in hand with making active connections between my blackness and what I study. Given that I am not currently taught or mentored by any black professionals at my university, I have the opportunity to go the extra mile to consider the intersection of a text and my life if I wish to. I recently finished the journey of diving into The Joys of Motherhood by Buchi Emecheta, and towards the end of the book I happened to find out that the largest portion of my genetic code comes from Nigeria. Knowing that women like Nnu Ego, like Emecheta, have literally walked before me in my ancestry enriched my experience of processing the book and its ever relevant lessons on the intersection of white colonialism and misogyny. Quite simply, none of my nonblack classmates could have had that experience, or interacted with the text at that depth. My blackness makes my learning better, and positively impacts how I study the world around me.
All of this feeds back into bragging. After the last year or two the world has had (and me specifically), I think we all have a bit of bragging rights. In a conversation with a mentor this week I was recounting my current priorities and accomplishments as I step into a new season of life through starting college. Listening to myself tell the story of all I have done and am doing now, I realized that I’m pretty impressive! Those things people said to me about my abilities and aptitudes were correct! I do have the tools and goals to make the most of what I desire! I’m doing the work! This also comes hand in hand with great amounts of heavenly gratitude, and I acknowledge that all these things in my life have been placed and planned by one greater than I. These moments of realization are a relief and a joy, if not an immediate confidence booster.
I also recently read homage to my hips by Lucille Clifton for a poetry assignment, and it stirred feelings of reckoning in me I hadn’t experienced in a while. Progressing through her works is a gift, and reminded me once again of why I am where I am. Though I do not aim to pursue a career in poetry as she did, observing how black women through literature have lamented the same pains, sang of the same joys and more for years and years is a timely reminder. In the frequent instances that I’m the only black person (or girl) in a room, particularly environments related to my course of study, Clifton reminds me there is a place for me. I am here for a reason, by my own work and intellect, and I get to brag about that. I will continue to do so more often than not, and I recommend that you try it sometime!
P.S. I forgot to tell you I loved you last week, but I did, and I still do in this one! Have a great rest of your Sunday.