I remember you. Skinny. Scrawny. Quiet. You’re the kid who liked to read books and never told anyone your grades even when you always got the highest scores, as if displaying your intelligence was a shameful act.
Why did you always wear your humility like a badge to be proud of? I wish I could have told you that those motivations were rooted in shame.
Someone somewhere planted this seed of an idea inside you a long time ago-that you hold your own sense of personal worth deep within. It is an inherent understanding that outside forces cannot touch. And then, you wrapped that idea and that treasure underneath multiple layers humility.
The problem with too much humility is that it gives you an excuse to hide, and by some configuration of human evolution, it gives others the license to assume they are more competent and capable then you.
You are going to come across people, mostly white men (particularly those in power), who will presume that they know better and should have the authority to dictate what needs to happen over your own work. They will impose their privileged notions over the authentic ideas you’ve brought forth.
I wish I could have told you that your humility will blind you. I wish I could have told you to cultivate more courage so that someday you can stand up to those who presume they know better and tell them to go fuck themselves. I wish I could have told you to start trusting your instincts completely. Stop second guessing. Stop devaluing yourself.
I need for you to know this, because a time will come when you will feel a certain fury–a raging anger against those people who dismiss and devalue your contributions simply because they have no concept of your worth.
I remember you. Sweet. Kind. Hardworking. I want to protect you from the embittered feelings you will start to feel against the world.
There are cruel places out there, and I need for you to stop hiding.
-Roqué (Your future self.)
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