WP4: It’s My Identity, You Can’t Have It
When I first enrolled in writ150, I thought to myself, “Well, this should be pretty straightforward.” I could not have been more wrong. I was used to the 5 paragraph evidence/analysis structure of high school essays. In fact, I had perfected that structure. I would start an essay the night before it was due, spit out some grand statements about the meaning of life and the duality of man, and then hit submit. A’s rolled into my grade book, and I moved on without really learning anything about writing. That’s how I thought this class would be but I was in for a major shock, which I realized as soon as I started my first writing project.
When I first heard our instructions for WP1 I was terrified because I would be writing about vulnerable parts of my identity, and other people were going to read it. I was used to writing essays that were read by my teacher and then tossed in the void of forgotten papers. I was very comfortable with that. I wrote to get a good grade, and that was it. I had learned to never reveal anything personal about my identity to my classmates, much less a group of strangers I had just met a few weeks ago.
In high school, I always felt as though I had to walk on eggshells when discussing my identity. I was already one of only three black girls in my grade, and I did not want to make myself stick out any more than I already did. Throughout my life, I went to predominantly white, private schools and I realized pretty quickly that although they all claimed to value diversity and inclusion, no one actually wanted to talk about difficult topics. I, on the other hand, loved listening to podcasts about race in America and discussing what I learned with my mom and best friend but I never took my ideas outside of that safe bubble. I had already endured racially motivated bullying by another student in my grade, and I just wanted to stay safe and unbothered until I graduated. However, as I began to write my WP1 I realized that sometimes sharing experiences that are complex and painful is the best way to learn and develop my ideas.
As I was writing, I found out firsthand just how difficult it is to unpack the origins of my identity. Every time I sat down to revise my work I had to relive the racial trauma I experienced. It made the process arduously slow and painful. A word count that I could have hit in 2 hours in high school suddenly took two weeks in college. It was exhausting, and the pain of revisiting my experiences made it nearly impossible to think clearly. As I swam through pages of research and writing, I would often take long breaks to stop and reflect on what I was learning. Instead of remembering the events of my day, I would fall asleep at night thinking about the racist foundations of our nation.
I began to completely reframe the way I saw my identity and it was absolutely terrifying. As I explored how my multiracial identity was tied to slavery and the origins of systemic racism, I began to understand my place in the world. I had always felt torn between the two sides of my racial identity, and for the first time, I began to realize why I never felt comfortable in either community. I also had to grapple with the fact that the world is really fucked up (for lack of a better word), and there isn’t a lot I can do to change it. I can make my small contribution and encourage others to do the same, but change is slow, and it doesn’t always work.
My biggest realization of the semester and quite possibly one of the biggest in my life came as I was revising my WP1. In my first draft, I struggled to discern the true purpose of my writing. Everything I said made sense, and my ideas were meaningful, but there was no deeper message driving the piece. It wasn’t until I talked with Professor Dissinger and reframed the way I looked at the project that I realized what the true message was. I was wasting my time trying to pick one side of my multiracial identity when I didn’t have to. For the first time in my life, I was able to fully accept that being biracial is an identity. I don’t have to be Black, white, or any other label. This realization has created a confidence in me that I never had before. I still struggle with managing how other people perceive my racial identity, but I feel safe knowing that my own view of myself is secure.
This class has helped me realize that writing is far more than just words on a page; it is a tool for expressing thoughts that are too difficult to reveal and a method of reflection for experiences that are too painful to process. Before my WP1, I spent years desperately trying to move past the racial trauma I experienced. I thought that if I could put it behind me and forget about it, I would be ok, but writing made me realize I will never get past it. That trauma is a scar I will have forever, but it has also shaped the way I see myself, and it will continue to shape the way I perceive the world. By taking the time to process what I went through and allow myself to feel all the emotions attached to that, I have developed a confidence in my voice and my thoughts that will allow me to have the difficult conversations I was so afraid of in high school. This class has unlocked so much writing talent that I never knew I had, and it has made me realize that I still have untapped potential to uncover.
