Today I yelped in pain all day on Facebook and it seems to have helped. It all comes down to: I can’t allow myself to serve infirm entities, or sacrifice identity for them (my mother, BJA, to some extent ISB, RSA, Xica, other minor instances, but my mother, Barry, and I guess Terry Mayers, come to think of it, are the main ones). It really is that simple.
Now onto voice, a question I’ve raised before. There is more to say about this but very briefly, my father didn’t think he could write academically in his own voice, with his own ideas, and get published—or said he didn’t, at least, in some moments of frustration. I learned this from him. It’s how I got stunted writing, I wasn’t interested if the words and ideas weren’t mine.
I’ve been having this problem with an R&R lately. That Reviewer 2 is the Whiteman, or is taking the role of the Whiteman character in this blog. The one who says what one can safely do, what one can safely say.
I will work on this. I want to live free of the burden of others’ pain, and free of fear of their anger. I want to trust myself enough to work on and stand up for my work. I want to trust and respect my own voice.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 