Shout It From The Mountaintop

In December of last year, my friend wrote to different media outlets about my life.  At the time, I wanted to be happy and feel honored to have my life story in the newspaper, but you have no idea the amount of angst I was feeling.  I kept thinking – why me? What makes me so special, who would want to write about me, what have I done so special?  Really I wanted someone to tell me, why would someone want to write about little ol’ me, I hadn’t gone through anything different than many other former and present foster youth.  Of course, I’ve had my share of physical, emotional, sexual and psychological abuse, but in our foster youth cohort, who hasn’t.  Even if you haven’t experienced any type of physical abuse, the emotional toll of being in the child welfare system is sometimes the worst pain of all.  So again…why me?

Up until now, I have been so confused as to my feelings about this question.  Of course I was extremely touched that my best friend thought so highly of me that she wanted the world (or at least the Bay Area) to know about me.  But the other part of me was conflicted because I really didn’t want that kind of attention.  I couldn’t help but wonder how that attention would make other people feel.  Would people think I was bragging, that I was pretentious, that I thought I was better or achieved the impossible?  I was worried about whether that attention would diminish someone else’s success – I mean frankly there were thousands of new lawyers being sworn in around the country, so what made my swearing in so special?  More importantly, I couldn’t help but wonder, would other foster youth think that my story was once in a lifetime, a fairy tale story, or maybe a case of luck?  Would they think they had to become a lawyer in order to be recognized? 

Despite my reservations, I was convinced by various people to do the story.  Looking back it was all very embarrassing :o) to say the least.  As I was talking to the columnist, I found myself continually trying to diminish the gravity, both, of what I had been through as a foster youth and what I had just accomplished.  I guess you can say that I was trying to show the columnist that those things weren’t special, interesting, or newsworthy.  At my school’s mass swearing-in ceremony, I found myself avoiding the photographer that was sent from the Tribune.  I didn’t even smile in his direction because I found it embarrassing that this guy was all in my face with this humongous camera drawing all kinds of attention my way.  If I ignored it, I had a better chance of making sure no one else’ success was diminished since this photographer made it so blatant that he was there only for me.  To make matters worst, my friend comes in and starts to do the same thing with her big professional looking camera – I’m smiling now because that’s exactly what friends are for. 

The Sunday the article came out, I was so worried.  I eagerly drove to the coffee shop, ordered some coffee and bought a newspaper.  As I read the article, I can only say that I honestly didn’t think I was reading about myself.  Not in the sense that I thought the content was inaccurate (the columnist did a wonderful job), but rather it felt like I was a total stranger reading about a remarkable young woman who defied odds.  After about 15 minutes, I returned to my worrying and in search of confirmation about how I was feeling, I started eavesdropping hoping to catch someone’s reaction – Did they too think I was remarkable?  Let's just say that my eavesdropping mission was a complete failure.  Luckily there was some divine intervention because I got exactly what I was seeking when I returned to my car to drive to church.  As I’m listening to the radio, the crew on Street Soldiers (a program on KMEL – a local radio station) started to talk about me.  It felt so weird listening to strangers talk about me like that – but I was happy that I got the reaction that I was seeking.  They were genuinely proud and happy for me – and they too thought I was remarkable.  I got this same reaction when the City of Richmond about a month later presented me with a commendation for my perseverance and accomplishments.  And I continue to get such confirmation when different youth organizations ask me to share my story with them. 

This experience has been somewhat life changing for me to say the least.  Once I realized that the article was going to be written and that I would get this unwanted attention no matter what, my worries shifted.  I became most worried about whether that article would inspire other foster youth.  I kept telling the columnist that I didn’t want the article or my story to come off like some type of fairy tale, where this type of thing only happens once in a lifetime.  I really wanted foster youth to read that article and know that they could do it too.  I wanted persons in the position to help these youth, to read that article and be inspired enough to get involved with transitioning or older foster youth because as shown though my story, the support of a caring individual can truly make all the difference.  I think all of that has taken fruition on some level.  No it isn’t wide spread fruition – but hey – if at least one youth was/is inspired, I’m happy.   

Beyond all of that though, the best thing to come of all this is that I was able to realize for myself just how remarkable I am (thanks to my buddy). To put it plainly, this experience forced me to re-examine my self-love.  I mean, really, how was it that complete strangers could be so proud and happy for me, but I found it so hard to feel those things for myself?  Was it so wrong that I got a little recognition?  Of course not!  Was it so wrong that people wanted to celebrate my accomplishments? Of course not!  Don’t misunderstand me, I would never advocate being someone who is not humbled; indeed, humility is a quality we should all strive for.  But I don’t think being humbled precludes you from rejoicing in yourself, the struggles you’ve overcame, and the accomplishments you’ve put under your belt once in a while. 

The fact of the matter is that we are all, as foster youth, remarkable and for this you have a right to rejoice.  I know it’s hard to believe sometimes, like I said, I had to see it through a strangers eyes.  So, let me be that stranger for you – I know without a shadow of doubt that you are REMARKABLE.  The strength it must take you to not let the weight of this life get the best of you.  That’s remarkable!  The strength it must take you to ignore and/or overcome the negative stigmas that comes along with being a foster youth.  That’s remarkable!  The strength it must take you to say that you will not give them the satisfaction of boxing you into some statistical equation.  That’s remarkable!  The strength it must take you to take control and run your life, rather than letting life in foster care run you.  That’s remarkable!  The strength it must have taken you to survive what no child should ever have to endure.  That’s remarkable!  The strength it must take you to no matter reach for the seemingly impossible.  That’s remarkable!  I could go on and on, but there’s no need – it’s quite clear that you are remarkable so don’t be afraid to claim it sometimes – shout it from the mountaintop if you have to – you deserve at the very minimal that much.