I am afraid to write. I have always felt connected to writing — specifically about my experiences and thoughts about the world. Writing myself into existence — “leaving evidence,” as Mia Mingus would say. To show other people like me that they are not alone. To talk about experiences that don’t have a lot of visibility, to help, to support. I know the power of this — I have consumed writings that have allowed me to see myself in others, that have validated my experiences, allowed me to see myself into being. I have been told that my writing is beautiful and impactful. And yet I struggle to put pen to paper and words on the page — and especially to share myself.
Why?
I don’t want to be seen as stupid or basic. I don’t want to be ridiculed. Putting yourself out there is a risk. People may interpret your work however they want to, including in ways that you didn’t intend. I am afraid of writing something that I disagree with later. Where I later recognize the nuance and feel ashamed of not having seen the full picture back then. I am afraid of being vulnerable. Of showing all my sticky and icky parts, on display for all to see. I am afraid of being judged. I am afraid of being wrong. I am afraid of not being perfect. I am afraid I will write something and hate it. I am afraid I will write something and love it. I am afraid people are lying to me when they say they like my writing. I am afraid of not knowing the right techniques. I am afraid of learning the right techniques and still being wrong.
I am too afraid to sit down and put pen to paper, words on the page, most days.
