“I had forgotten the word for ‘rabbit’,
so I searched for meaning in the words ‘field bunny’
—unkempt and untamed.
A life very much different to what I would describe as
the learned norm.
I had searched for my interests in the unbothered nature of the wild bunny,
formally known as a rabbit.”
In between the lines of these two stanzas lies a moment of revelation I had when I was 13 years old. It was the mere understanding that I could not conform, or rather go on to live my life as a lie — more so, keep up a class act. The premise of this entire poem was that I had set myself free, promising to let go of who I was when trying to appease anyone other than my own person.
I am one to reflect on my past, not simply for wishing what I could have done differently or hounding myself for words unsaid, but it would be inhuman to say I don’t do the latter. Who’s to say past reflection (of any kind) isn’t crucial for further building comfortability in your own skin, especially when done in the lens of personal progression.
Of course I was familiar with my growing identity as I matured, but I hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to truly reflect on specifics until a class I had taken in this year’s spring semester. For an exercise, we were required to break down how we would describe ourselves using seven qualities: gender, race/ethnicity, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, class, age, and ability.
My professor asked us if we were comfortable in those descriptions of ourselves, if we were certain those attributes best defined us. The majority of the class was comfortable and confident in our own answers, some ranking higher in importance than others.
Naturally and briefly, we all reflected and viewed ourselves in the sense of the “me” mentality, labelling our own person in the intimate comfort of our conscious. In other words, the more secure we are with our identities, the less discomfort we feel. Lifelong experiences boiled down to seven limiting qualities, and yet we were all proud of such selective and descriptive words. However, our professor expressed that we live in a world where that sense of self and pride can so easily be threatened and skewed, or better put: misaligned.
Re-reading the two opening stanzas of my old poem and seeing this new, learned ideology reflected back at me felt like I was putting a name to a familiar face.
Here were my answers to that class exercise:
My Identity:
- Gender: Female
- Race/Ethnicity: Asian/Pacific Islander (Filipino)
- Sexual Orientation: Queer
- Religious Affiliation: Raised Catholic
- Class: Working class
- Age: Young
- Ability: Able minded and able bodied
I am proud (and have come to be proud) of many parts of my identity. My upbringing had forced me into a position where, as I was discovering more about my sexuality, my preferences, my dislikes, I felt as if sharing my growth and experiences with that discovery would not be in everyone in my household’s best interest, since my mother’s values don’t align with mine.
I found myself living a double life, telling lies, tweaking the truth, all to appease a one-person crowd. Lying to myself and to my loved ones took such a toll on my body. My physical and mental health was put at a standstill, and I lost who I was just beginning to know. When there is misalignment between the different definitions of “me”, there is cognitive dissonance and a need to negotiate how to define and validate your being. The version of me that I had curated for storytelling had begun to make me stray far from my self-confidence. In all honesty, the act of being dishonest made me ill, disconnected, and far removed from the person I was at my core.
I was unaligned.
At an older age, my sense of self is now stable. I was in a boxing ring trying to strategize every hit I would throw but never had my guard up, so I got punched. To let your arms down, you’d have to put them up. So, I gathered myself for much of my late teens, pushed myself to live my truth — all the aspects of who I am — at the cost of throwing myself in that ring unarmed. I’m still in there. I’m still going to be in there for the rest of my life, not knowing the outcome — and I am more than okay with that. I am steadily approaching 21 years old and I’ve come to find myself detached from familiar anxieties — although not completely. But I can be in the ring a bit more protected because I know who I am.
I understand that my self-acceptance fluctuates because that’s just how I operate. But learning to differentiate the changing from the unchangeable is only one part of this lifelong process, but for myself was a huge leap of faith. Taking a step back to assess and realign yourself is crucial for growth and progression. Understanding yourself allows you to operate in a capacity of comfortability and confidence. Take that chance to reach authenticity within your autonomy.