To Be Labeled As a Writer

I write; and for the sake of my human existence, I guess I could be called a writer. I say “human existence” because between me and me, I don’t explicitly refer to myself as a writer, and therefore I am only so in the eyes of others who are in this human experience with me.

You see, it’s always different—the way we see ourselves and the way the world sees us. I’ve come to learn that one must surrender to this reality and be okay with it. Here’s why: they’re not in your mind. They’ll never fully grasp the wholeness of who you are, and likewise, you won’t fully grasp other individuals either. We’re all ever-evolving, ever-expanding beings. We cannot stop time, therefore we cannot avoid change. Some of us like to put labels on ourselves, and some simply don’t, even though they’re aware that the creative activity they do puts them in a certain “category”—for lack of a better word—and are therefore eligible for a certain label that helps others understand them better.

In my case, I can’t call myself a writer. But I write, and I have been living with words since the age of fourteen. So, to people, I am quite simply a writer. Because what else could I be in this respect? So I accept it. I understand that there has to be a word, an identity, that would make me more comprehensible in the eyes of others. But I also cannot afford to put that label on my shoulders and draw its lines around my body, my space, my possibilities. I let the word be stamped on me (it is a beautiful word after all..!), but I don’t let it define or limit me. This limitation which automatically comes with labels is what supports my decision to never again put a label on myself—especially on my writing—unless I want to destroy that part of my life and dwindle its significance…

Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps this all stems from my intimidation towards the formidability of the word itself—”writer”. Perhaps I’m still in the first chapters of my writing journey, and seeing myself as a writer will only come after a certain level of maturity, a deeper companionship with pen and paper…

All I know now is that I will openly embrace the label “writer” when I’m no longer living and writing—when the label will no longer interfere with my writing. Only then can they say, “she was a writer.”

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