Holding My Identity When It Was Questioned
There have been moments when people didn't ask who I was.
They decided for me.
It wasn't always direct.
Sometimes it showed up in someone's eyes.
Sometimes in questions that felt like they already carried an answer.
I remember how it felt in my body.
A pause I didn't choose.
A small shift, like I needed to steady myself.
Not because I didn't know who I was.
Because something in the moment asked me to hold it more tightly.
What stayed with me wasn't the words themselves.
It was standing there while someone else tried to place me.
As if I needed to fit inside something they understood.
Over time, I noticed how those moments lingered.
Not as doubt.
More as a reminder of how easily people can mistake their understanding of you for the truth of who you are.
Now, when it happens, I hold myself differently.
Not pushing back.
Not explaining more than I need to.
Just staying where I am.
I don't move from that place as easily anymore.
