It came silently in the night; a brief bout of hysteria. Maybe it was my conscience. Maybe it was the cough syrup. Either way, it echoed within me. As a human being, I have an inalienable right to personal freedom of expression. Why then, have I spent my adult life under cover, afraid of conflict, or sticking out? Why have I wasted time pandering to the labels assigned me by others, when I am free to live as I wish, unhindered by criticism from others?
I recall my 12 year-old self, full of ambition, and a distaste for any sort of oppressive presence in his life. He questioned anything forced upon him, choosing instead to make his own decisions, and mistakes; eager to forge his own path in this world, uninterrupted and driven. What would he say of my behaviour now? How would he feel to know that I have shirked my personal duty to do right by myself – choosing instead to withdraw and allow myself to be painted by the same brush as everyone else.
No longer shall this be the case. I owe it to myself, as a foreigner in a foreign land, to identify myself as such, and allow those who like me to like me for who I am, and not who I once chose to present to them.
