No matter how many times I show up
To write
To speak
To contribute
There’s a disapproving figure
Somewhere between my ears
Sometimes quietly suggesting
Other times explicitly yelling
That I have no right to be here
No grounds to be sharing an insight
No real reason to share my thoughts.
And it wouldn’t be so potent
If the voice wasn’t so reasonable
If I didn’t at some level agree
If it didn’t feel like safety
To listen.
And so the battle royale
Of creative work
Is not won in one dramatic moment
When my art is celebrated
And my identity as a creative
Is affirmed,
Because the Resistance is relentless.
Every day, it asks me the question
“Will you really show up today?”
“Must you really?”
Followed by an elaborate
Mental playback
Of all my shortcomings.
And so if for no other reason
I will show up again today
And then again tomorrow
Just to fight back.