An open Letter to My Insecurities

Khalid Shafqat
Nov 1 · 3 min read

Sometimes, just sometimes — maybe someone has just asked me to describe myself in an interview, maybe I’m introducing myself at a coffee date, maybe I’m just scrolling through my Instagram feed of inspiring, assured, badass men — I am so excited about the men I am becoming, and the men I am.

In those moments, I feel my chest swell with pride as I think of the milestones I’ve crested, and my cheeks redden with memories of every time I’ve felt beautiful, every time I’ve caught myself in the mirror and smiled in surprise — Wow, I’m radiant, every time a woman has looked at me with sincerity in his eyes — the kind of sincerity that is equal parts stolen and given, because her mouth is too afraid to say the words. In those moments, I can see myself surrounded by a diverse gaggle of beautiful, successful, confident men, clinking glasses to our success. In those moments, I can see myself surrounded by the trappings of “Baby boy, you made it!” — warm, comfortable, safe, grateful, with strong legs and a stronger smile.

Sometimes i think that:

What if I can’t support my family?

What if I’m a world away when they need me?

And because I’m a smart men, because some parts of my brain click together faster than others, because I was blessed with access, opportunity, and an educated mother — because of these things, my What Ifs also morph into incredibly complex protein chains, each permutation a negative or positive molecule linked to the next.

The negative What If chains yell at me: What if you message her and it ruins the quiet, chill vibes you two have going on? But what if you’re just imagining the chill vibes in the first place? What if in her head she’s just thinking you’re a little weird, but okay to spend her time with for now. That’s assuming she’s even thinking about you at all. She’s probably only thinking about work and her cheeseburger. Why can’t I just think about work and her cheeseburger? Wait, my cheeseburger. Ugh, as if I need to eat any more cheeseburgers. I’m definitely over my recommended calorie count today. And how many days has it been since I’ve weighed myself? Didn’t Kate Moss say skinny feels better than food could ever taste?

If you’re always too much? For your family, for women, for the neighbors, for the community religious group? Too opinionated, too strong, too busy, too ambitious, too successful, too direct, too rigid — all the toos that have been thrown at you year after year, their pain both dull and fresh, always.

So, what if? So, why am I writing this? So, why am I going on with my life, making choices that make me happy, making choices that bring as little discomfort to others as possible, while tricky-balancing my happiness in the process?

Because, what if? Complex protein chains of positivity come to the rescue, making me happy-smile in quiet moments between kisses, or between embarrassingly heavy panting on mornings after a leg-destroying run. Like flavor insta-released the second you pop a Mentos, my positivity What Ifs rush to my aid. What if I make it? What if I land that promotion? What if she respects me? What if I don’t have to compromise what is most important to me? What if I can upload photos without body-morphing my curves to industry-approved standards? WHAT IF I’M A GODDAMN BOY?

So, dear insecurities, and my darling seedlings of hope, some wounds are still too fresh for me to thank you for your lessons (maybe that’s better saved for when I’m 50 or so) but I think what I can say, is I see you — clear, present, hungry. And I know that I have to decide who I feed, and who I let flounder.

And we’ll come out of this one and the next one, and the next one, one way or the other. So might as well enjoy as much of the road as we can.