Held, Not Self-Made

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine shared a newsletter from doechii, titled “If you were writing to Black people, you wouldn’t have to edit so much,” and there were two particular lines that crawled off the page for me. One was when she said, “To become the writer I needed back then (and so desperately need right now), I have to stop talking to this invisible audience in my head, this imaginary crowd of spectators, critics…” Then, toward the end, she wrote, “Sometimes I fear the repercussions of saying exactly what I mean exactly the way I feel it.”

Oh man. The way those lines held my hand, but equally squeezed it tight, as if a mandate to wake up. And with that same energy, I want to share the following words burning bright in my chest —

I am not self-made. I have never been, nor do I wish to be. I am God-made, family-made, friend-made, community-made. I am a reflection of all the interactions, meals, joys, laughter, grief, sadness, stories, losses, love, and dreams. The self alone cannot go all the way; it will eat itself in the search for ambition, acquisition, and competition. The self is not “all-purpose” in the way the “we” can be. The more, the better: the innovative, the freer, the grounded, the creative.

I am not self-made, nor do I ever wish to be. Those who claim to be “self-made” have forgotten the hands that fed them, brushed their hair, held their hand, hugged them chest to heart, poured into them when they were empty, tied their shoes so they wouldn’t trip, prayed for them before they knew what true prayer felt like. The self can be a tricky one, a lonely one, a blinded one. Isn’t it best when we share the table? Pass down the recipe? Draft the blueprint together? Isn’t it best when we give without adding it to the “you owe me one” notes stored in fearful places in our minds?

I worry for those who are unable to see that there is no self without others. That all we are comes from all they were, all they held, all they released, all they endured, all they loved. We are because they were. The self will sometimes have you believing it is better to face life alone, that others constantly want what you have, that disassociation is self-care, and that asking for help makes you weak. Oh man, is this just me feeling this? I am not self-made. I am community-made.

The air expanding, dancing inside my lungs: I owe it to my grandmother Nancy and my cousin Michelle, who rescued me from nearly drowning in a well in the Dominican Republic when I was only seven years old. I am family-made, not self-made. I rejoice in knowing that God has placed the people I have encountered into my life, knowing that some have built me, some have shattered me, and others have healed me with their presence. Not a second wasted, not for those who understand that both ups and downs hold lifelong lessons; lessons that wouldn’t exist without someone else, something else, an action and reaction not cause by only the self.

These words, burning bright in my chest, have been resting quietly, but now they have awakened—grabbing hold of my spine, straightening what was misaligned, and calling me to express the unspoken, the needed.

Remember, “the self alone cannot go all the way;” and so, who holds you? Who has held you?

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A window into one of many (in person) to come from the Creative Writing Hour, in collaboration with Silent Book Club Marietta.

The CWH x Silent Book Club Marietta

a needed question we all should sit with:

What are your gifts, and how are they clues to what you’re here to be and do?

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Gentle Offering: Online Writing Workshop - Saying It Without Saying It

Saying It Without Saying It is a generative writing workshop focused on the art of implication, vivid imagery, and emotional resonance. Together, we’ll explore how feeling can live in image, rhythm, silence, and restraint: allowing what’s unsaid to carry just as much weight as what’s spoken.

• When: Sunday, February 8th from 1:30PM to 2:45PM

• Learn More, Here.

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Thank you for being here, thank you for reading my words, openly, tenderly, curiously.