Another Country, Another Way
In January, I wrote a single line on my vision board I hope you listen to yourself and chart your own course. I had a habit of doing the opposite. February, I picked up the novel Another Country by James Baldwin — a black american writer. The story is about a group of friends whose relationships are challenged by resentment, lies, hypocrisy, and isolation as a result of racism and prejudices about homosexuality, race, gender, and status. The novel was published in 1960 showing the psychological, emotional, and physiological effects of living in a world that decides people’s worthiness based on sexuality, race, gender, social economics, religion, etc. As I was reading I came across these words in the story…
“There are no standards for him because he could not accept the definitions, the hideously mechanical jargon of the age. He saw no one around him worth his envy, did not believe in the vast gray, gray sleep that was called security, did not believe in the cures, panaceas, and slogans that afflicted the world he knew; and this meant that he had to create his own standards and make up his definitions as we went along. It was to him to find out who he was, and he had to do this…”
Each of Baldwin’s characters was attempting to pave a life for themselves outside of what society mandated. I resonated with those who self-inflicted their pain while attempting to evolve from the society in which they lived. I knew how easy it is to be absorbed by a world where what “truth is” is told to you, even if it’s for your survival.
I hear my mother’s words “Monica we have to work twice as hard” and yet I’m always tired.
Teachers who critiqued my strength “Monica, you need to be more vulnerable” and yet I created a barrier to protect myself.
“You’re arrogant” because I shouldn’t show my confidence.
So much of who I was constructed for me. I prioritized agreeableness because my questions were perceived as combative. I accepted other people’s standards and understanding over defining my own. All that understanding and I couldn’t hear my voice. I became resentful and easily angered until I disengaged from the world entirely. Now, that I’m back I fear I’m a coward for having disengaged. I fear that during this process, it may come at a cost to the relationships I’ve cultivated. The words or sentences I once stood behind may reveal my complicity, ignorance, or fear. Maybe I will be misunderstood and perceived with malicious intent. And still, the work must be done. I must explore the definitions that I’ve accepted and those that I’ve avoided. I must test my understanding. I must step outside the vastness of security, into a vocation of the arts, living as a foreigner, outside of my concept of individualism, and success. And then what is after that?
James wrote those words 84 years ago navigating his truth and testing his understanding. His words were a lighthouse that reassured me of the importance of finding our way. I lived so long without discerning my values and morals. Now, I’m discovering my own.
