|For a very long time, I resisted having and owning my story. Hell, I resisted calling myself an artist as well.
You see, the artists I was aware of had agendas. Were activists. Were outspoken. I sat there in my judgy castle thinking I just wanted to enjoy their art. That’s it.
So when I started painting, it wasn’t about the story at all.
Oh, I’d been asked what my angle was. Why I painted. What my voice was saying. My response was always… it was saying I liked to paint!
But you know, deep down inside I had a story. A story I resisted because sharing it meant that I was no longer neutral. That some people wouldn’t like me for my story. That some people would make me defend my position, whatever position it was.
It was an uncomfortable thought.
Like a lot of people, I dislike conflict. I learned young that it was better, and safer, to agree with people in power than it was to defend my position. I learned to hide my story, my opinions and ideas and even be ashamed of them.
In the process of working on Finding Inclusivity, I have spoken to so many women who tell me that they have no story.
Then they always blow my mind WITH their stories. Quite a few have said that they had no idea, truly, of what their story was until we chatted.
But, here’s the thing, I have spoken to a minority of women who do have a story and know it. And the experience is very different. They know exactly where and how they fit in the world. They focus their impact on whatever is important to them.
They are confident and unapologetic and through that, they make change.
As I figure out where I’m going with my art, claiming MY story, I want to take you all along with me.
Owning my story is scary. Intimidating. Because it clearly takes me off the proverbial fence and plants me in the field. And my field isn’t the right one for everyone but it’s the right one for me.
I wrote about this publicly on facebook on Saturday, and I want to share it here.