Rejecting false narratives that have been placed upon us

For as long as I can remember, I was told that I was too strong, too loud, too opinionated, too fierce, too much. When I was in high school, I founded the first women’s golf team at my school. Despite being one of the best public schools in the state where over 10% of students attended Ivy League universities, the school only had a men’s team. I found a group of women who wanted to golf and compete as a part of a new women’s team, tirelessly negotiated with the sports director, and eventually spoke at a public Board of Education meeting. This resulted in the Board allocating the funding and programming needed to start the team. The sports director congratulated me and in what should have been a positive and celebratory exchange, he called me a bulldog, making sure to convey just how annoyingly stubborn he thought I was.

I have worked in some of the most stressful places a young woman could find herself. My first job out of college was as a Wall Street investment banker. I went on to work at unicorn startups that were as toxic as they were ambitious. Everywhere I went, it seemed that the only way I could survive was to be tougher. I was often the youngest person, the only woman, and the only person of color in the meeting. The constant pressure to do better, succeed, get more hardened me. I was more often than not stressed, tired, irritable, and on edge. My nervous system was so unregulated that I would get sick any time I took a vacation and relaxed even a little bit.

As the oldest daughter and granddaughter in a Korean family, expectations for me have always been sky high. The hard exterior that I developed over the years was a way to protect myself and to withstand the pressure and persistent expepacteon to always be better. Just a few days ago my mom and I got into an argument because while I was trying to eat breakfast, she attacked my character while originally talking about something else completely unrelated. Once again, I was being told that I was too picky, too opinionated, too this, too that. These are words that I’ve heard a million times, through the voices of various people. Always too much. I’ve heard this so many times that I think for a long time that I believed that this is who I was. A stubborn, unrelenting, too loud bulldog who deserved to be put in her place.

The next day, I took a volunteer shift in my role as an end-of-life doula with a hospice patient. It was while I was holding the hand of a ninety-year-old man who was actively dying, I realized that all of those people who had ever said that those things about me were incredibly mistaken. Beneath what may appear to be a strong exterior, I am incredibly soft and loving. I believe that us doulas are especially empathetic people who can hold space for the dying because we recognize how precious life is and how special it is to be with someone in their last hours on planet earth.

So, no. I reject the narratives that others have projected onto me. I release the mask I’ve had to wear to stay sane while interacting with insane people in an insane world. Despite all the moments of ugliness and harshness I’ve witnessed in the world, I know that I am softer than others could even imagine, as I continue to show up and be the version of myself that I know to be the truest version of me in spite of everything. Here is to rewriting the stories that other people tell us about ourselves—these false narratives that they push down our throats hoping that we’ll continue to be this way. People will always project their own insecurities and even their desires onto others, but I no longer choose to believe what they say. Sometimes, we’re so stuck in the storylines that other people have written for us that we forget we are the ones who choose what and how our lives actually look like. Don't get stuck in someone else’s projection. Don’t be afraid of rejection. Remember you are the person you show up as.