Roles are for Theatre. I am Human

I’ve noticed that being human is not enough.

Let me explain.

Most days, I wish I could walk the earth without constantly thinking about what I am. Exploring, reading, writing, having thoughtful conversations, eating good food, and laughing—these are the practices that put my soul at ease.

They open me up to possibilities beyond what I’ve been taught to believe.

As I write this, I can feel my breath deepen and my muscles relax. And my mind says, Really? Is this all it takes?

Maybe it is.

Maybe this is the foundation of living. The foundation of actually being.

Then another thought comes:
Keep this to yourself because no one will understand.

But maybe it’s not for others to understand.

This is my life. This is how I want to live.

What’s the greater fulfillment—living life on my own terms or being understood?

When I think about all the roles I’ve been assigned through cultural and societal conditioning, I feel overwhelmed. So overwhelmed that sometimes I become paralyzed.

Because honestly, I don’t really know what these roles fully entail.

Black woman. Black American woman. African-American woman. Pilates instructor. Personal trainer. Massage therapist. Daughter.

The list continues to grow.

And what does it all really mean?

I get lost in the titles and realize I don’t know who I am outside of them. I don’t know what I truly need, how things are affecting me, or most importantly, how to move forward.

No one guided me in the direction of simply being.

There was no blueprint for allowing life to unfold naturally and discovering where I fit in—if I fit in at all.

The curiosity that kept me engaged as a child slowly got replaced with imposter syndrome, fear, and hesitation.

Those roles came with expectations from the collective that I could never fully live up to.

What’s even harder to admit is realizing I placed those same expectations onto others because I was conditioned to see people through roles before humanity.

That realization makes me feel sick and relieved at the same time.

I think roles are easy to cling to because they provide some kind of template for how to live.

It’s a painful truth.

To abandon the roles requires independent thought and courage. It requires standing on your own and finding your way through darkness without guarantees.

It means accepting that the path may feel lonely because most people would rather be told who to be and what to do.

Roles come with known boundaries and expectations. There’s safety in that.

But outside of those structures is a monstrous, beautiful place where you get to create, explore, and discover yourself.

And honestly, it can feel like a complete nervous system breakdown.

But I’m choosing to recalibrate.

I’ve decided that the life I’ve been given is worth the risk of being and becoming.

Deep in my heart, I know this is how life is supposed to feel.

Natural.

The man-made constructs we attach ourselves to can attack the soul so viciously.

My transition has felt dormant at times because even though I knew these roles felt like prisons, they also gave me access to society. The same society I thought would embrace me, validate me, and take care of me.

Turns out, much of it feels like a game.

Survival of the fittest.

And the people who play the game best often become the voices everyone follows.

That’s something I’ve never truly wanted to participate in.

What I’m realizing now is that I need to develop self in order to make the right decisions for my life.

That requires intention.

It requires accountability.

And most of all, it requires honesty.