I constantly find myself staring at the mirror, trying to find the picture that the others painted of me. Strong, intimidating. Feminine. Aesthetically pleasing. Then my focus shifts to a greater journey and I spiral into a search of the pure, authentic self, peeling layers of “You should behave like a lady” or “Dressing more masculine really suits you” and attempting to discover the person underneath the suits and ties or hot red dresses, the depth of a mind and soul that unravels beyond the physical surface.
Would people be willing to see me, instead of her, of him, of them? Why would it matter?
I constantly find myself: feminine, masculine, androgynous, challenging, bending, and breaking norms because that’s what we’re meant to do. What I consistently find myself doing and what I wish to discover in every past and future version of me, above beauty, order, or art.
Authenticity.
