When I write these entries, I feel all sorts of fear. Fear of trolls, fear of changing opinions about me, fear of sounding stupid. Of course all of these are unfounded and silly, but speaking them outloud gives me power over them. This fear shows up in almost everything I decide to share in some degree. I call it my "social media anxiety". These posts are not meant to be Pulitzer prize gold. Often they are my (as Brené Brown calls it) shitty first drafts. They are the rawest, unedited version of thoughts put into words. They come without a filter and sometimes without a clear direction in which they are heading. With every post I'm fighting my conditioning to make things "perfect". I'm trying to embrace and accept the messiness of my mind and understand how it operates. I know that I am the observer of my mind/ego which drives my fear based thinking but I'm meeting it on a (more or less) daily basis with empathy and compassion. I'm able to see my thoughts and their deeply rooted origins and call myself out on my "bullshit". See how things served me in the past and make a more conscious decision how I want to progress in the future. Sharing my shitty first drafts has become a tool that helps me explore the space between who I am and who I want to be, and try to align the two a little better. Some days are easier than others but I'm enjoying the discovery.
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There's a saying out in the world that goes, "Never meet your heroes, they're sure to disappoint you". I suppose this could be sound advice for someone living in a fear based mindset. But when I met one of my heroes I was so glad that I did. Karamo is someone I felt an immediate connection with since I first saw Queer Eye. The reason I believe I felt so connected comes down to representation. It's a very reassuring thing for my personal journey to see a proud gay black man who values connection and mental health simply thriving in life. To follow his journey which he shares so openly has been on of the factors leadding to my participation in the #100DayProject. I don't necessarily aspire to be like Karamo in his path and choices, but he makes me believe that the best version of Brandon is more than good enough. To Karamo: there's so much I tried to say in our brief meeting but know that you inspire so many black boys to bring their authentic selves to the spaces that they might not feel invited to. I hope you continue using your platform and power to blaze trails for folks like me, so we can turn right around and do the same! I might be alone in thinking this, but statistically that's impossible, so I'm gonna keep writing. Why is there this unspoken yet socially defined line between humility and pride? Where did I learn that being proud and boastful is bad? Who is the one that defines the line I'm so fearful of stepping over? What do I fear is on the other side? I suppose rejection and abandonment (repeating patterns in my life). How is it okay for me to pump up my own friends and family but doing it for myself holds a negative and undesirable effect? I should not expect myself to be able to give credit where credit is due to others if I can't give it to myself. I think that's why I can't easily take compliments from others. Part of me isn't used to hearing it from myself, so its a foreign energy coming in and the antibodies of my brain (the ego) are fighting them off. I see nothing wrong with self celebrating whenever one feels like it, I'm trying to overcome the scarcity mindset that if attention is placed on myself then there isn't anything available for people just as deserving of all the praise. Single parents, working students, people coming to terms with trauma, all of humanity deserves to see themselves as celebrities. To know they are worthy of all the praise heaped on them by others and know they are most deserving of hyping themselves up too. One source of fear for me is making sure I stay grounded knowing that as bright as my light shines, it doesn't dim the light of another. The purpose of shining my brightest is to show that others can do the same. From now on I accept my shine and gladly make room for others without playing myself smaller. I'm ready for a world full of humans who feel all their emotions, take chances on love, follow their bliss, and celebrate their imperfections. These are the celebrities I want to see! My new hairstyle sparks so much joy for me that I cannot help but smile. This rainbow hair is not meant to symbolize only LGBT pride. It symbolizes non binary pride, pride for being a person of color, pride for being human and all the different hyphens that it encompasses. I'm elated at the fact that my existence can be fully expressed via my body often without question. Then I think about what's happening to women in particular states all over this country. They are not able to live without having governmental interference regarding their own bodies, the one thing in the Universe they should have sole ownership of. My heart hurts for them. My heart also hardens as it feels the familiar sting of fear and shame. This government is using personal convictions amplified by fear and shame filtered through an all encompassing lens. Women should be celebrated as the badass biological miracles they are. We should honor their bodies and all its magical capabilities and they should be free to utilize its power however they deem fit, just like I can do with my hair. I'm not trying to trivilaize an anti-abortion law by comparing it to rainbow extensions. I'm trying to illustrate that I believe all women should live as free as they want with their bodies just like a male can. I stand with pro-choice candidates and organizations. I will continue to advocate for equality. I will always stan a female who knows her worth and can stand in her power, I will also make way for my sisters who can lead teams, businesses, and nations! I will support any decision a woman makes regarding her body because I have nothing to do with it. I recognize my biological privilege and ask my female friends: WHAT ELSE CAN I DO? I am currently fighting the feeling of unworthiness brought by a lack of productivity. For four years of my DCL career I had my daily schedule planned out. I even scheduled in naps. It was regimented and predictable. I longed for days when I could do nothing. Sesame Street Live came along and I was given what I wanted, opportunities to do nothing but still work. Now I'm "funemployed" again. I love the freedom that comes with it, but I am responsible for filling up my schedule. This sort of autonomy is fresh and exciting and certainly welcomed each time I get to experience it. It is days like today, where I don't really leave the house, I get bogged down with my thoughts and insecurities of inadequacy. It's easy to fall victim to the narrative of a work culture demanding productivity and equating it to one's worth. I'm beginning to understand and accept that one doesn't cause the other in my life. They operate independently from each other. The shift in my perspective is helping me move away from my conditioning of instant gratification and surrendering to the forces that are moving outside of my view to bring me my next adventure. I do trust it all and believe it's happening, but that doesn't stop the worry and desire for certainty. I suppose that this is my opportunity from the Universe to learn to sit and be still, something I couldn't do during the DCL days. This could also explain why I have trouble meditating consistently, although its called practice for a reason. Yesterday I cried...multiple times...even through the opening number. I cried as a celebration, my tears shiny wet pieces of confetti. This experience and all those involved far surpassed my expectations. Each of them showed my new perspectives and the beauty in our differences. We all had something to contribute to the consistent excellence of this show, whether we believed it or not. The creative team saw it, our audiences saw it, and over the last few days I finally caught up. So yeah I cried, not to mourn that which is passing but to honour its existence. I was blessed by the Universe to portray one of the most iconic characters in the world, travel around the country with strangers who bypassed the friend zone straight to family, and get paid while doing it. At times during this tour I didn’t think I would make it this far, but I did. So I cried for myself, expelling any trace of self-doubt with each tear. I did not cry because the tour is over, I cried because the tour happened. This tour happened at a time I wasn’t sure what life would be like without the magic of Disney behind me. But I felt the fear and took the leap and have grown stronger, smarter, and kinder because of it. I like to think that somewhere somebody thinks they cannot do or achieve something and they saw our show and its journey and know they too can make their own magic. I've been sitting in a strange emotional space the past couple of days. Not positive, not negative, but peaceful but in a rather rocky, tumultus way. I am in the middle of the binary scales of different emotions, stuck between the excitement of summer and the sadness of tour ending for example. I suppose this is the messiness of being human. Never being able to fully inhabit one emotional space without awareness of its opposite. Now comes my opportunity to practice nonattachment, something ranking pretty high in difficulty. Try as I might, I cannot take this cast with me and keep things the same. I am attached that's for sure and the next few days will bring waves of melancholiness. I will need to practice nonattachment with those waves, in an effort to avoid becoming stuck in a victim mindset. To allow myself the inevitable sadness and watch as it passes through me, most certainly with tears included. I've learned that not allowing myself the space to grieve or cry is attachment masking as strength. Society has taught me to value strength as a black man but I'm ditching that stereotype for vulnerability and softness, however that decides to present itself. I accept the fear that comes with the joy, and the sadness that comes with anger. Removing myself from the binding binary scale of emotions to inhabit the free range space where I can be exposed to any and all the emotions at once, allowing each to wash over me in waves. Every time I cry or express genuine laughter, I'm releasing old patterns and blocks to see things in new ways. This is one helluva ride but it's too easy to attach myself to the lighter emotions just as I can to the heavier ones. The difficult thing is to just be, and that's the lesson. |
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