After years of posting to the Archives, it’s always interesting to observe those select times when one of my pieces has a particular electricity to it. Yesterday’s My Movie was one of those occasions when hitting the “Publish” button felt especially daring. Perhaps it was the subject matter – my recent personal experience of a random man propositioning me on the city street. Maybe it was the weight of those recently speaking out about sexual assault that made the post feel extra potent. It may have been my radical attempt to consider taking full responsibility for the entire experience, essentially wondering if there is a place of blamelessness to be found in what appeared to be such an obvious attack.
Whatever it was that brought some hesitation to my typing hands, I forged ahead despite it. Let the words pour out in a novella-length accounting. Emboldened by the act of revealing more than what felt ‘safe,’ I dared even further and shared my Archives post on Facebook. Being a reluctant FB participant, this act seemed the scariest of all. My ‘friends’ would actually see it.
I’ve recently been contemplating the value and importance of authenticity in writing. A few recent essays I’ve read (Dani Shapiro’s “On Authenticity,” in particular) have suggested our culture is too easily prone to creating facades through social media, only posting the bright and shiny, omitting much of the shadowed sides of our daily living. Had I fallen prey to playing it safe here on the Archives, too?
Lots of ponder, so today I wanted to pause on words. In the morning, my grandmother’s jewelry box caught my eye upon the shelf. Treasures under lock and key.
In honor of opening doors and bringing in the light, I turned the key in the lock. Rediscovering what gems may be inside.