Reflecting on Lucille Clifton's "why people be mad at me sometimes"

Lucille Clifton

why people be mad at me sometimes

they ask me to remember

but they want me to remember 

their memories

and i keep remembering mine

Staying grounded requires remembering your own voice. For many many seasons of my life, I felt as if more legitimate "others" stood whispering in my ears. Telling me their stories about why I should do things a certain way, see circumstances from a particular point of view. I knew they were just opinions borne of their experiences in the world--their values, biases, tastes, fears. 

I wasn't strong enough to drown them out and consistently trust my own truths. 

Clifton’s poem reminded me of those times in my life when I contorted myself to fit into someone else's good graces, or earn a nod, or avoid raised brows or critical responses. Times when I turned against what I preferred, what comforted me, what made me feel whole, what I knew in my soul. 

Now it helps me to envision my soul as a strong and powerful warrior buried in my belly going absolutely ballistic when ignored. A warrior who doesn't care if people get mad at me.

Sometimes it's a challenge, but if I don't listen to me, who else will?