I was brushing my teeth this morning, looking at myself in the bathroom mirror. Not really looking, just kind of zoning out, the way you do when you’re half awake. There’s this spot on my cheek, a little patch where the skin always feels a bit different. It’s not a scar, but I remember being teased about it when I was a kid. I forget about it most days, until moments like this.
Sometimes I think about how much of myself I carry in these small, quiet ways. My queerness, my Blackness, my softness — all these things that live right under the skin. When I was younger, I wanted to be invisible, or at least less obvious. The world felt like it was always looking at me, even when I didn’t want to be seen. Now, I catch myself in these ordinary moments and realize how much I’ve changed. Or maybe, how much I’ve let myself just be.
This morning, I poked at that spot on my cheek and grinned at my own reflection. It’s funny, the things that used to make me feel different now just feel like mine. Sometimes I still get nervous about being too much — too soft, too queer, too Black. But most days, I’m just tired and thinking about breakfast. The anxiety is still there, just quieter.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m learning to notice myself in these small ways. Not with big declarations or anything. Just a nod to the parts of me I used to hide, and a soft hello to the person I’m still becoming. There’s something gentle in that. I think I’ll remember this tomorrow, or maybe I won’t. Either way, I’m alright.