AAPI Heritage Month #21

May 21, 2023

We all create art. What is yours?

I am a writer. I write.

Primarily it is a source of therapeutic care for me. It is how I am able to move this body in this world. Whether I am writing in a journal for my eyes only, or on this blog for… slightly more than my eyes only, it feels necessary for me to string words together.

These words that I pull together have not always felt like a creation of art to me. It was a skill. An attribute. Since I was in elementary school, I have received academic and professional praise for my writing. High scores on spelling, verbal, and essay tests. Nominations by teachers to enter writing contests. Assignments by supervisors to draft more and more important documents. I was told it was something that I am good at and therefore I have always considered it something I should receive income to do. That is what western culture and capitalism teach us. Commodify your skills, talents, and hobbies.

Very recently I began to identify as a writer not because I am (or want to be) paid to write but because I want to be able to choose at least one identity. So many identities are put upon me by the politicization of my existence. I am a writer because I chose to be a writer. It brings me joy and I like when others feel connected or jolted by anything I write. I transport things from my head to others’ heads. That generally sounds like art, I guess.

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