Who Were You Before The World Told You Who To Be?
🤔 "Who were you before the world told you who to be?" We've all heard some variation of this famous quote, and I think it poses an important opportunity for self-reflection.
I think there is a lot of wisdom in who we were as children, and I believe there are little memories and glimpses into who we are at our core; about what drives us, what's important to us, and what our purpose might be.
Whenever someone asks me to tell them about myself, I share this story from mine:
It's 1998. I'm around 6 years old—in grade one—and already becoming aware of the fact that I don't quite fit in with my peers. No one knows I'm autistic. I'm "functional enough" to fly under the radar, but socially awkward enough that my peers can sense I'm not like them. I'm beginning to experience the pain of being excluded and left out. And because of my highly sensitive nature, I'm painfully aware of others that are being excluded, too.
And so, motivated to right this great injustice, I organize my very first community: The Kindy-One Club (yes, very clever name, am I right? 🤪)
It wasn't especially sophisticated: It was a club open to any and everyone who wanted to join, with organized activities and games, and prizes that I picked up with my little allowance from the dollar store up the street.
But it was important to me that those around me had somewhere they felt wanted, and valued, and celebrated, and seen.
I was creating a sense of Belonging.
This was merely the first example in a long list of endeavors and initiatives that I'd design and organize over the next 27 years (and counting). Because while one might look at my experience and think "chaos"—I look at my experience and see a very clear through-line: Creating space for people to feel heard, validated, and wanted has always been my north star.
Description: An old photograph, with 6 children sitting on a sofa. Two children around 7 or 8 years of age sit with a young toddler on their laps. The other three children sit on their own. A graphic of an arrow points to the child in the middle, indicating this is the author as a child.
