Why I’m Not “Good People”

Jenny's Library

I’m not a nice person.

I’m not a good person.

I’m not a kind person.

This isn’t to say that I don’t ever try to be any of these three things.  I do, especially the last two.

It’s more to say that, for me, surviving in this cissexist, racist, ableist, heteronormative, classist, often fucked up world of ours has involved rejecting the idea that “good” and “bad” are static states of being.  I will never be a “good person” because, to me, “good” is not something that you achieve.  It’s an ongoing process that never ends.

It is, in fact, almost impossible not to be doing bad things as well as good when you are human and therefore flawed.  Especially when you are part of a messed up system, as we all are.

This, to me, is why it’s important to call out bad behavior, or hurtful language, or even…

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Insomnia

High School

Where do I even begin,

First day of Freshmen year, I remember that feeling I had when I jumped out of my dad’s taxi, I haven’t even put a foot into school and I let out a sigh, I was already looking forward to senior year. I walked into that building wearing a cheetah dark brown dress shirt from rainbow that was meant to be worn by itself, but I knew that there was no way in hell my dad would let me wear anything that had the word pants in it. 

My dad was always very strict about clothing and it was always something that got between us, I felt so trapped and caged in because of him, you could say that I was ” oppressed”. Education and religion had always been something he held very firmly. Going into that would be a whole other story. As I walked in that day late to school I didn’t care at all that I was wearing a dress on top of a long black skirt. I was comfortable with who I was and didn’t care about what anyone in that school had to say about me, That all changed just a couple of months later…

Growing up you watch all these high school drama films that are supposed to give you a glimpse of what it’s supposed to feel like… It’s the complete opposite. I wish there would be a movie about my high school which seemed to be so different. When you first walked in you would notice how many different cultures there were, it was a big mixing pot and we had every ingredient. That also changed a couple of months later. 

The very first person I met in HighSchool was this girl named Naala, I sat in front of her in biology class. Naala was different in all aspects she was Indian and had a very thick accent, the way she dresses didn’t fit in with all the rest of the kids, like me. I liked Naala because I could relate to her. 

It took me awhile but I found my place in high school I met some friends and they were people I welcomed me and made me feel comfortable. A couple of months later I completely transformed, I thought if I looked more like them then maybe they’d accept me and I wouldn’t feel like such an outsider, but no matter what I did I never felt like I belonged. Freshmen year had to be one of the most craziest, fun year I’ve had so far. 

Continued….

La vie of mine

Well here it is,  my very own blog.

I once heard that only people who don’t know what to do with their lives have blogs, and well here I am.  I want to use this blog to let out every feeling and everything that happens in my life from this day forward. I tried doing this with a journal and lost all of my high school days.

Anyways today marks history, who knows maybe I’ll look back at this post and laugh at how stupid and young I was. I just hope that when I look back at this, I’m in a better place. i’A. 

Till next time ➰