Claiming My Identity

This photo was taken in 2018 during the process of getting my name changed.

It shows the black residue on my left hand after my fingerprints were taken.

I was letting go of my ex-father’s last name and it was the first step to becoming who I really am.

Alice Karolina. My middle name legally became my last name, and all of a sudden I was the matriarch of a new line. If only I wanted children 😉

This was the beginning of claiming my identity. Choosing it.

I was done being on the receiving end of who I was supposed to be. (The forgiving daughter? The chill ex-wife? The resilient survivor? The successful nomad?)

Since then, I’ve done tons of internal work but not a lot on the outside.

My truth is still partially hidden under (very sticky!) layers of conditioning and trauma.

Internally, I’m clear. On the outside, I’ve had lots of starts that didn’t seem to go anywhere because I was still trying to fit a mould.

A mould made by the opinions of people who don’t have my best interest at heart – and my fear of them finding out that I don’t fit.

Now I’m realizing that using my voice is not (just) about self-expression and being found by those who need my work, but about creating our collective identity.

I feel a responsibility to participate in claiming a different truth than the one being told right now.

I know how inspired I am by seeing all of your art and work and ideas and humour. I’d much rather be part of creating that infinitely diverse identity than give the oppressive mould-makers my air time by default.

So what if it comes out messy and inconsistent. It better be, because that means I’m alive.