bridging the gap

there’s beauty and excitement in connecting with people who see the world nothing like I do but…

is it wrong of me to want to be in a space full of people who think and act like me?

People I actually identify with?

When I feel a disconnect in a space I don’t feel properly represented in, I always yearn to go back home.

Because home is belonging. The language I understand and the love I know.

The effort it takes to constantly relate, to decode and stretch myself into unfamiliar ways of being is getting more draining by the interaction. 

there are rare rewarding moments when someone outside of my world really gets me 

But the lows of being misread, dismissed, or just not received at all cut deeper. 

on top of that, the acceptance is bittersweet because it doesn’t feel like they’re really accepting me.

They’re typically appreciating an edited version. The parts I’ve masked or translated just enough to make them comfortable.

Then at that point, I’m not even sure if the praise is for me or for the role i’ve been performing.

I’ve been such a “good boy” throughout so many processes of assimilation but what if I just want to be a version of me that goes against what’s acceptable in a world that isn’t mine?

After years of practice, my performance is polished. But now, more than ever, I feel the weight of the act and all I want is a moment to drop the script.

home, wherever that is, is the only place the mask comes off.

a place where there’s no energy expenditure in just being.

To be in a space…

To just be in a space.

Now I’m asking myself, Is it detrimentally discriminatory to desire the company of people who just get you?

It feels painful and unnatural even, to shrink myself just to be digestible.

It hurts me to know that “being yourself” doesn’t always work. Because fitting in often means cutting off the parts of you that don’t.

Despite it all, this longing to belong still exists and it’s reinforced by a quiet fear that without it, I’ll be left alone, unseen, and cast out from the warmth of connection.

I want to fit in.

I want to belong.

I want to be loved.

I want to speak from my soul, in the language I was raised in. Not just words, but the unspoken rhythm passed down subconsciously through glances, gestures, and grief.

Things I learned by watching my people be.

But if when I open up, it falls flat, It’s not received, and I watch their eyes glaze over mid-conversation, like my truth wasn’t enough to hold their attention.

it’s heartbreaking.

Is it me?

Am I the problem?

As always, it’s messier than black and white. 

Can I be better? Sure.

But what about the things I can’t cut off or quiet down?

The undeniable hue of my skin.

The shape of my nose, my lips, my eyes.

The tight coils of my Afro.

The frame I walk in.

And beyond the physical to my values and beliefs.

my affinity for the intangible.

For the grey areas of life and philosophy.

For divergent thinking over binary perception.

For the hard questions and uncomfortable truths,

rather than blind obedience to indoctrination.

These things shape everything. every conversation, every connection, every stare, and every silence. They dictate the depth of my bonds and whether a moment becomes a lifetime or just passes me by.

These differences mold subcultures even within the culture that can be hard to pick up on.

And honestly…

There’s nothing like the rhythm of conversation with someone who speaks that hidden language.

With someone who has knowledge of the very specific heartbreaks and indescribable joys that can only be obtained through first hand experience, there’s no need to explain.

They know me.

In my silence and my outbursts.

I’m safe and seen. 

these constant explanations get heavy. Even if you don’t mind carrying the weight.

There’s so much more to connecting with each other than what meets the eye. It’s in how we hold space for each other. In how we speak, listen, mourn, dream. It’s a language of experience not just appearance. 

I still find joy in the bridging and an ideal world for me is where we’re all truly willing to step toward oneness. 

But at the same time, our world is built on contrast, polarity, and diversity. 

And in this divine balance, we are divided by different colors in a cultural kaleidoscope.

Separate and distinct.

But all together, as one, we create a beautifully whole image.