On Becoming A Writer, Self-Doubt, and Pushing Through Anyway
I walked into a room full of Black creatives and suddenly felt like I didn’t belong. Here’s what that moment taught me about doubt, creativity, and choosing to begin anyway.
Welcome to The Pivot. This is a hybrid space, part journal, part newsletter — where I share what I'm living, learning and questions that I need to ask myself to keep moving forward. It's for those who are feeling the call to make a move, to shift. It's a reminder that we don't have to jump off a cliff — just simply turn our bodies just the tiniest bit and pivot. And yet those small movements can be the hardest ones to make.
So I figure I would share my journey so we can do it together. And, if I didn’t mention it before, I'm really glad you're here.
Good morning.
I wanted to talk a little bit about the emotional rollercoaster of embarking on new journeys —and really, about overcoming the instinct to stop before you even get started. Also, completely unrelated- it’s my daughter’s birthday and she is officially a teenager, so that is completely new! (Pray for me y’all…)
A few weekends ago, I felt some overwhelm after an event I went to with my daughter called the Black Zine Fair. And here’s what I learned.
First, I am amazed by writers. Actually, I am in awe of them. By the way, you can see just by how I wrote that last sentence that I do not consider myself to be among that group. I am a pediatrician who writes, but a writer- no. Now, I’m unclear of what the qualifications are to officially call yourself a writer, but I am extremely certain that I haven't fulfilled any of them.
When I arrived to the fair, on the third floor of this incredible warehouse space, I immediately became overwhelmed. It was a room entrenched with Black creativity
— people who had assembled some of the most inspiring, innovative work I’d ever seen.
The vibe was extremely Brooklyn—which means very hip, very avant-garde, cool but not trying to hard. And there I was, definitely looking like I was trying but still here for all of it. I couldn’t help but realize how new being in spaces like these were for me. I was here not just as an observer, but also as a learner, an apprentice, a novice. Seeing how much people produced—and the high level of the work—scared me a bit. I wanted to picture myself on the other side of the tables, but it was extremely blurry.