Why Living in the Dark Will Ruin Your Creativity

The Story of a Closeted Undocumented Immigrant

“Close-up of a person's eye and brow in black-and-white” by Jose A.Thompson on Unsplash

Being a Brand Strategists means a lot of cooky, fun things, but it mostly means being a storyteller.

I work with brands to develop how their story and image is presented to the world — perfect color palettes, perfect copy, perfect tweets — and I’ve been a writer in some capacity from a very young age. From exploring poetry and secretly crafting spec advertisements in the spare moments of my teenage years, to copywriting and contributing to car enthusiast publications later on, I love the craft of storytelling.

But recently I’ve come to realize I have been neglecting another story, a MASSIVE story. You see, I am an illegal immigrant. The term illegal makes me cringe; it suggests I am a criminal of some sort, but it’s the reality.

I call this “Dapper & Anxious.” Story of my life.

Growing up with the fear, the frustration, the shame of that, has kept me from sharing that part of my personal story for a very long time. I’ve kept it from everyone in my life — friends, girlfriends, co-workers — but most importantly I’ve kept it from myself.

The best way to hide something from people is to not let yourself accept it in the first place.

For a little context, I’m part of a group called the DREAMERS — named after a piece of legislation called the DREAM Act, which stands for the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors. This is a program that strives to help nearly 2 million young adults living in the United States that were brought here illegally by their parents when we were just young children. It provides the avenues and opportunities necessary to fully participate in the place we’ve always called home.

Photo by Mark Abramson

But don’t worry, I’m not here to preach about politics. I’m happy to have that conversation with anybody who’s willing to discuss it, but this is not about politics. This is about the context of how this struggle has shaped me and my creativity.

This is me graduating from elementary school in Mexico. One of the most meme-able pictures of me in existence.

I was just 9 years-old when we emigrated from my hometown of Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua in Mexico. At that tender age, I knew nothing about borders or green cards, or the intricate socioeconomic effect of illegal immigration, for that matter. I just knew that this is where my father had moved and we all wanted to be with him.

This is an unfinished sketch from when I learned about and began to understand my immigration status. Looking back at it, it kind of resonates that I never finished it. I felt alone and confused, and I wanted to hide that from everybody. So I tossed it aside and never touched it again, hoping to blend in and acclimate to our new home.

I learned very quickly how to spin stories, immensely fearing being found out. When I couldn’t officially go to college, I overpaid for non-credit classes and told people I was just doing it for fun. I was too cool to pick a major and go to school full time. When my friends questioned why I carried a Mexican passport as a form of ID to bars in my early twenties I would tell them things like, “I misplaced my ID” or “I usually leave my license in the car, so this is easier.” I once went as far as to insinuate a connection to the CIA. I’m not gonna lie, I felt like a bit of a spy.

I used my gift as a storyteller to creatively weave my way out of this truth. This shame. But the problem with lying to others about who you really are is the toll that that it takes on the way you see yourself. It’s insidious.

“Street art mural of attractive blonde haired woman with red nails and lipstick with shattered face” by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

Living a duplicitous life with so many versions to my story, I started to lose track of who I was. Personally, professionally, and creatively. I was becoming cynical and unmotivated. I wrote less and less. I burned bridges and hid from the reality of my situation.

Hiding in plain sight not only broke my spirit; it shattered my self-identity. It wasn’t long before my work began to suffer and my relationships fell apart.

I was going down a very dark path. A path that on October 8, 2016 lead me to an attempt to take my own life. I’m happy to have survived and to be here sharing this story with you.

“A macro shot of two pieces of rope linked together” by Gwen Weustink on Unsplash

With the help of family and friends (and the intrinsically relatable show Mad Men), I gathered all the pieces, preparing to rebuild my life. My story. But this time the whole story. Inclusive of my entire self; the ups and downs, the pretty and ugly parts that make me the creative weirdo that I am. So I went back to work. Better, stronger.

I am still in the process of rebuilding my life as an honest, open person, but more and more I find evidence of how being your authentic self will open Pandora’s Box and allow your brain to explore its full potential.

We are all creative, and creativity thrives when devoid of the borders you build within yourself.

So I’ll leave you with this thought.

Imagine as a creator what your life would be like if you never held back again.

*This piece was transcribed from a speech I gave at Creative Mornings / Denver Chapter*