On Censoring Oneself

I used to say what everyone else was thinking, but wouldn’t vocalize. Or, at least, what lots of people were. And then somewhere along the line I stopped. If I had to guess I’d say it was a culmination of things. The in-laws (if you’re still out there, hi!) started reading me on a regular basis — and misinterpreted something I wrote about my husband’s employer to be about them — as did my Mother — nixing the misinterpretation, she knows when I’m writing about her — the local community started to show an interest in the fact that I was writing and that a simple google of my name would pull pages, upon pages of results of my words, I began getting strong, passionate responses to those words — both for good and bad from all over the world and I’ll be honest, I think I got a little scared. Scared of success, of recognition, of my words — the ones I whole heartedly stand behind, but also realize are controversial at best — coming back to bite not necessarily me, but my family in the ass. Fine, me too. I pulled back. I didn’t stop thinking the things I used to write, I didn’t stop being the person I am. Doing those things — either of them — is impossible for me. The only form of censorship I had was to stop writing, and to write, when I did at all, poorly; to use words that didn’t come from me.

It has, since the beginning, been a tough reconciliation to make. I am who I am and who I am is a writer; a controversial thinker; a complicated being; a swirling storm of parts whose very sum of themselves is irreconcilable. I am a feminist, an admirer of men; a mother who, as a general rule, dislikes children; an almost-anarchist who is addicted to the societal construct we call government, politics; I am opinionated to a fault, but value cooperation above all; an idealist, have been called an elitist, but am a sucker for the underdog; I crave dysfunction, operate best in a state of chaos, but cannot stand a physical space that is cluttered, disordered; I dislike Republican and Democratic ideals equally; love being American but hate the country that it has become; I am deeply rooted and inexplicably drawn to American Agriculture, but vehemently oppose most of the foundation on which it is built today; I am driven and a procrastinator; I am indecisive, uncontrollable, unreasonable and demanding and while I may change my mind tomorrow or next week or next year, tonight I feel at peace with that; want to release it from the restraint I put on it a couple of years ago. I miss being unapologetically me all the time, not just in the presence of close friends.

To what, to whom do I owe my long-overdue change of heart? Well, first and foremost, biology. If I were better at denying my true self doing so wouldn’t affect the writing and outlet I have here. But there has definitely been some outside inspiration this year that has made me question my decision to pull back and stop writing freely here — or anywhere — as well. Some of the most notable of that (linkable) inspiration was Dana Loesch’s Reading: Personal Weblog in April and the post that inspired her, Sweetney’s Personal Weblog. Both are amazing women who have walked their own paths down the what-to-write-when-to-write-it tight rope and whose opinions on this subject, particularly, I admire very much.

And above and beyond all I owe a large portion of that inspiration to my cousin. He passed away as a result of a car accident the weekend before Thanksgiving last year. It’s something I’ve been relatively silent on, I’m not one for sharing my feelings publicly, or privately for that matter, but I will say now seven months later as the wounds start to heal one thing I had a tremendous amount of respect for in him was his way of being so very unique at all times. He was, from a very young age, just him. No apologies, no censors. And it was the single most prominent underlying current to everything positive anyone has said about him since his death. He was himself, wholly and truely and that mere fact has brought to light, once again, the denying of myself I have been so engaged in. In every dark cloud there is a silver lining, isn’t that what they say?

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With all that said, since I will once again be writing what I think, when I think it in this space, let this post also be warning that I am hereby taking up Dana and Sweetney’s comment moderation policy as well. In the past I have erred on the side of caution, of the freedom of speech. I have allowed the publication of comments on my blogs that have been not just in opposition to my own point of view but that have been, to put it simply, downright mean. That will no longer happen here. If you leave nasty comments I will not approve them for publication. And I will reserve the right to publish them in a blog post along with your personal information for all the world to see the depths of your true being. The same policy applies to emails. You’ve been warned — both about the policy and my intent to write what the hell I want again. Strap on your seat belts ladies and gents.

Tagged as: Fuck 'Em