On this blog, I’ve often pondered the notion of authenticity and also, connection. And then, the intersection between the two concepts. I think when we are struggling with a sense of who we are and what we want and what we need, the connections that we form are tenuous and threatened. I think sometimes when we are struggling to understand our truest selves, we resent others who are on the journey, instead of seeing that commonality as a bind.
I think most of the time, that resentment comes from a place of comparison. We think their ramble down the path is easier; fewer obstacles, more milestones. We think they are figuring it all out as they move along. We imagine their successes sweeter and their missteps fewer. We don’t feel admiration, we feel jealousy and fear. Fear that we’ll never figure it out, that we are missing the gene, the thing that helps everything click into place.
Of all my flaws, I’ve never faltered in my ability to bask in the glow of someone else’s rays, rather than skulking into the shadows. I’m a living, breathing human, so the truth is that I’ve felt envy from time to time. Mostly, I’ve been inspired. Mostly, I’ve felt encouraged to keep on keeping on. Mostly, and particularly when I haven’t exactly felt sorted, I’ve wanted to help others, with the thought that often in our greatest moments of sacrifice or generosity, we have opportunities to find or solidify bits of ourselves that may have previously felt wobbly.
I’m not saying I’m noble or better than anyone. Maybe it’s actually the opposite. Perhaps it doesn’t really matter. The truth is that I seek out others who are actively pursuing the best version of themselves. There is something lovely and intoxicating about those who are endlessly striving to make themselves better, their lives better, the world around them better. It doesn’t intimidate me, it feeds me. And when those individuals are younger, it’s ever better, because that fact breeds hope. Then, I think that even if I can’t sort it out, the next generation can, and will, and also, the one after that. They’ll heal the world, they’ll fix our ails.
I’m going to digress for a moment, but it’s a useful sidestep from the main story.
As part of my process, my self-examination, I write. We know this, because I’ve been sharing my deepest, darkest feelings and observations here. I write here, and I scribble to myself, and occasionally, I take those bits of expression and send them off in the hopes that another soul will connect to my words and want to publish them.
Of course, there is something entirely gratifying about validation. No question. But when it comes to the sharing of your most sacred and tender thoughts, there’s also the notion that with that publication, someone else may feel seen. Heard. Understood. You could possibly grant someone the grace that comes with finally feeling less alone.
When Darriea Clark advertised that she was seeking submissions for a new zine, one that promised pure, unfiltered, tender emotionality, I was instantly hooked. Intoxicated. And she accepted my piece! She accepted me. And then, it happened again. AGAIN! I’m forty-three and I felt like a teenaged girl. I felt like I had been invited to an exclusive club, except that it is an inclusive club. The most inclusive. A space that invites everyone to enter with their hearts open and vulnerable. A space whose banner reads: Come, as you are. You are safe here. You are seen here. You are loved, here.
In a world that’s so discriminating and so judgmental and so challenging, the notion of such a space felt magical. And so, I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand Darriea’s motivations, her vision.
I was privileged to have such an opportunity and then, even more so, grateful to find out that the truth was better than the fiction I had written. She was, she is, the real deal. Brilliant and funny and dedicated and welcoming and hopeful. In the face of great trauma, she had found her voice through her written word and rather than keeping that to herself, she decided to share. Unabashedly and selflessly.
She doesn’t share in a way that pronounces herself an expert, but rather, the kind of unassuming leader that encourages and comforts. The kind of leader that lets people know that she will never say “do as I say, not as I do,” but instead “I’ve been where you are, and know that you are seen.”
Unblushing Media, the brain child of Darriea, is so clearly the tangible manifestation of her desire to help others find their voice. Unblushing Media is a growing platform that produces books, magazines, and zines, and hosts open mic nights, workshops, and community conversations that foster personal growth and connection to self and others.
Okay, back to the start.
I am deeply in awe of Darriea. Her passion and her determination. I want to see her succeed because she is a genuinely lovely person, but also, because I feel like Unblushing Media is one of those projects that will actually start to shift the world around us, to something better.
The truth is that I want to live in the kind of world that Darriea is trying to shape. I want to live in a world where people are compassionate and kind and empathetic and above all, honest. I want to live in a world where we care more about each other than we do our own, very personal successes. I want to live in a world where a win for someone else feels like a very special kind of win. The kind of win that gives everyone all the feels.
I want Darriea to succeed and so, in a rare ask, I want to ask you to help me, help her succeed.
Help Darriea because if Unblushing finds its support, its roots, it’s truly the kind of win that I was just talking about.
If Darriea wins, if Unblushing succeeds, we all win.
We. All. Win.
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Help Darriea succeed here:
https://www.gofundme.com/f/unblushing-medias-love-in-action-campaign
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