Fighting To Be Me
Navamey Jayan
TY B.Sc. Economics (2022-2025)
Estimated reading time – 2 minutes 5 seconds
Source: https://openai.com/chatgpt/
There is something that gave me the courage to write this. Many who read this might wonder, “What courage is needed for this?” But I’m not writing to please you. I used to be that person— the one who would try to please everyone. At first, I tried to please only those close to me. Then, it spread to strangers and eventually, the world.
People say, “She doesn’t speak. Maybe she’s not good at public speaking. Maybe she doesn’t know how to express herself.” The truth, however, is that I don’t speak because I fear the words coming out of my mouth might be wrong. Because I was always told I was wrong. First, I was mocked. Then, met with anger. And so, I became afraid— the girl who feared.
Yes, I am independent now, but make no mistake: this independence stems from fear, not freedom. I don’t know how to sing or dance, but I do know how to fight. It is because I was taught that if you want to survive in this world, you fight. Physically, mentally, and with words. “Singing and dancing are for the weak. Dressing up is for the weak. Do you want to be weak?”
So yes, when I first speak, I might stammer. I might speak softly. Not because I don’t know what to say but because I fear being wrong. But when I need to— when you push me— you will see confidence. Is it because the training worked? The training to face the real world? Or is it the defense mechanism I built to survive?
I was told I should know the world. And I do, but only the parts I was allowed to know. I didn’t have the privilege to explore beyond what was chosen for me. When I finally gained independence, why did it feel like an escape? Why is my biggest fear going back to that captivity?
You wanted me to be strong, yet coming back to you feels like being trapped. You taught me not to fear the world, yet I fear you the most. I love you the most, yet I am terrified of you. Why am I always alert? Not just to situations but to people, too? Their movements, their expressions, the shifts in their tone? Why do I fear responses? Why do I feel relief when someone replies softly when they agree with me?
I am strong. I am independent. But sometimes, I lack confidence. And sometimes, I overcompensate. My defense mechanism is anger. My weapon is intelligence. I pretend not to know things. I agree, just to maintain the peace. But tell me, why did you choose this way to make me strong?
I know I am not enough yet because I can still see it in your eyes. However, I know you are proud, too.
You say I have grown now— that I see and understand the world in a better way.
I see the pride in your eyes when you hear the opinions I share.
But why do I see disappointment when you hear me hum?
I spot that same pride in your eyes when you watch me smash a shuttle.
But why do I see disapproval when you see me in a skirt?