trusting yourself is the process

a reflection as I near my one year anniversary as Poet Laureate

A year ago, I finished my interviews with the Anaheim Arts Council and was waiting to find out if I’d become the Poet Laureate. It was a time sprinkled with panel interviews, project proposals, networking, and meeting with the city management higher ups. I kept telling myself “I’m in the room and people want to know about me.” All that awe didn’t take away knots kneaded into my stomach as I waited to find out if I’d take the role. I got the role and I’m almost done with my first year in a two-year term as Anaheim’s Poet Laureate.

image by Amacie Comix

I wouldn’t have gotten here if it weren’t for my people who supported me through this process and continue shining love and light on me now. Being a public figure added new dimensions to my self-awareness. I hold space differently now. I’m humbled in a way that doesn’t diminish my power or my voice. I live each day knowing I have a whole city’s literary reputation on my back. My work is supported and the collaborations keep coming as we build hope amidst so much discord. To be a Poet Laureate is to add myself to the cadre of cultural workers who do transformative work. A big job for a big time. It’s my honor to be here and do this now.

As soppy as this reflection is, I know my success as a poet doesn’t start or end with me or this position. I have my people and I trust myself. That journey of trusting in my voice started back in 2022 when I was writing my first book, The Hero and the Whore. I decided to put poetry in the book; it felt incomplete without poems. I didn’t ask for permission, I went in the way of my voice. It’s better to affirm your steps rather than asking for permission.

After The Hero and the Whore came out, I had to trust myself when I emailed my agent and told her that I’m transitioning out of the Christian publishing industry and into creative publishing. I trusted myself when I told her, “I understand if you can’t represent me because of this decision.” I wasn’t dropped from the agency. I received their support to go in the direction of where my soul invites me. I trusted myself when I submitted that Poet Laureate application. I trusted myself when I took off my shoes and read poetry barefoot with bleeding feet during my interview. I trusted myself when I submitted my poetry chapbook manuscript to competitions. I trust myself now, as I make workshops, curate performances, prepare for the launch of my second book, and integrate literary salons in the fabric of our city.

Trusting myself isn’t an easy practice. I’ve lived through too many timelines where I was belittled, erased, and ignored. I remember each face that sneered at me and judged me. My character was defamed and my beliefs criticized. Too many people made it clear they want my survival tactics but not my story. It sucks for them that I’m so stubborn. I trust myself with a tenacity that lays their plots and schemes in caskets.

I see a lot of talk about loving ourselves, but do we trust ourselves? Trusting yourself means more than loving yourself. It means you want yourself. When we can trust ourselves we find ourselves caught in the torrential downpour of wanting the fullness of who we are — our art, vision, voice, body and whole being — to exist in this world without any compromises and without needing others’ permission.

I don’t simply trust the process, I am the process.

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tell me something good.

• how are you loving yourself?

• how do you want to exist in this world?

• in what ways are you expanding your capacity to trust yourself?

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