"how does it feel to be a trail blazer?"
some vulnerable thoughts six months after I published my first book
At an Afro-Latinx Festival on a rare sunny February day with our voices nearly drowned out by the singing of an Afro-Columbian not too far off and looking at vegan ivory earrings made by local vendors that my friend posed a question:
“Camille, how does it feel to be a trail blazer?”
I have a habit of blurting out the most immediate response that will illicit some kind of laughter. I am trying to stop the habit. It was born out of the desire to accommodate others—to hide my true self under their immediate responses so that my shame-mongering ways will find themselves to be true. But I couldn’t do the with this friend. We are too close and she knows so many parts of me that I keep protected. And so, I gave an answer to her question.
… the problem is that the conversation was so long ago that I can’t remember the answer. I was more shocked that someone called me this.
“you published a theology book without ever going to seminary or taking theology classes,” she said, “you blazed a trail for others to do the same”
Is that truly me? I thought. Does this title fit me?
Last week I made the mistake of choosing to do a loathsome (and highly unrecommended) activity when I was already in a low state of mind. I read negative reviews of The Hero and the Whore on Goodreads. (I’m embarrassed admitting it!) The river of commonality that ran through was that the book doesn’t provide enough Biblical theology and was thus untrustworthy. I should go to seminary before I write my next book. (There’s a lot I could say about what the reviewers expected but I choose to be a judgmental aunty who takes the high road, withholding my criticism while simultaneously sucking my teeth.) I think I expected myself to fold at the criticism, but I didn’t. How surprising. What came next was the understanding that if I were to please every single person with my writing I would carry myself into a place further than abomination. The surest way to objectify yourself is allowing someone else to own your narrative.
Why do I write?
because I need to.
Why do I share my writing?
because I want to.
Why do I publish books?
because I want others to need them.
Why do people read your books?
I haven’t the slightest idea.
There is a quote from a writing workshop that sticks to my veins and redirects my blood. It is from Kwame Dawes on the purpose of being a literary activist, “One does not need to be a writer to become a literary activist. This life is about reading literature, consuming literature, and practicing the great muscle of empathy.”1 I know why I read books and I know why I write them. It’s not my place to speak on behalf of others. To engage in this world is to engage with the craft of empathy. Some people engage with empathy and find themselves and their world views growing. Others engage with empathy and it will be a short confrontation. Empathy knows it does not want to battle with rigidity. It will simply collect its things, leave quietly, and let a rigid person suffer the consequences of a disconnected life. 2
Let’s return to my friend’s questions. How does it feel to be a trailblazer? In the moment I felt no pride in the title. I was holding so much heartache and anticipating more that would come. My goal with publishing and promoting The Hero and the Whore wasn’t to make staggering book sales. (Though, it is technically a bestseller in the Sociology of Abuse genre… so I can call myself a best selling author.) My intention was to come out of the process knowing that I am safe, connected, and whole.
The problem was I felt very vulnerable and unsafe.
The problem was I experienced the soul crushing loss of close relationships.
The problem was I was operating with only fragments of myself in tact.
This is not to say that the publishing industry is violent or toxic. I am also not saying that the life of an author is altogether painful and must be avoided. I do not write to cast blame, because that is the antithesis of my goal. It’s not those things. When an author says that writing this book was like birthing a baby, they do so in their postpartum phase. When all the work of creating, nurturing, and loving a book is done. Now we must accept that it is in the world, with its own autonomy, having others judge it according to their likings. I was in the postpartum phase when my friend asked me the question that I could not answer.
It has been two months since that conversation. This is how I would answer it, if given the chance to do so again…
I don’t know if there’s a string of words that could adequately describe the kind of loneliness I feel right now. Have you ever seen the way a flower tilts when a hummingbird doesn’t choose it? I wish I could say that I have, but have only watched a flora’s great dance toward the sunlight. That is how this feels like. The hummingbird and the flower have a relationship but when its pollen isn’t chosen it will return its focus to the sun. Trailblazing is not about creating unchartered paths. It’s about looking to the sun — that giant light of hope, illumination, and life — without going blind. Because if we were to look anywhere else we’d notice the ways a hummingbird or butterfly would prefer the petals of another. I do not waste my posture on jealousy nor do I allow myself a moment to give into comparison. To write is to create light. It is to illuminate the mind in alternate ways. I’ve spent much of this metaphor explaining how the flower looks towards the sun. My desire is to become the sun looking down at the flower caressing its face with the gentle force of my life. There are people who blaze trails and there are people who cast the light for us to notice the flora and fauna along the way. In my current loneliness I am the former reaching towards the latter.
Dawes (2023). Authors Publish. Paraphrased quote.
I chuckle at this anecdote because I have found that rigid & un-empathetic people are doing a lot better financially than I am. I spent years easing into the understanding that a disconnected life looks like the poster child of a prosperity gospel theology. Financial blessing is contrived. Our wealth is found in our connection with one another and the earth who holds us. I share this as a footnote to let you know that I am always at odds with these understandings. Is there a ways to be financially secure and empathetic? Of course there is, but capitalism is a thick fog in a sailors path.
I am absolutely crying with laughter at “because I have found that rigid & un-empathetic people are doing a lot better financially than I am.”