Who I Am

It's easy-- all too easy-- to immerse yourself in an environment different than what you are accustomed to, and in time gradually lose yourself.  You lose your social identity and gain traits, practices, and beliefs of those around you.  You assimilate and become just another face in the enormous crowd milling around you, melding in with the next.




Yet there are times that violently jerk you out of your skewed, pseudo-reality and remind you that this of which you have surrounded yourself with... isn't who you are at all.  Like awakening out of a sweat-inducing nightmare, you open your eyes and realize the actual truth, and in knowing so, you are saved.

With that, let me tell you I have played this game.  A pawn at best, I've shifted around the board, dodging the coup de grace from "friends" and enemies alike, trying to hold my place to the best of my ability. 

I recently found myself pinned in a booth at a coney after work one evening-- clustered by familiar people whom had closed out the bars downtown prior to needing their fourth meal.  I was offered money to go home with one of them.  $500...whatever I wanted... $800.

    "Come home with me," he incessantly begged, grabbing at my face. 



What shocked me is that not less than a month ago I had been a guest in his home, accompanied by my current, and potentially my last boyfriend.  He had already been introduced to my future of which I am invested in... I reminded the man of this.

Scoffing, he griped about my boyfriend's profession, an honorable one at that.  Shaking a disheveled head and contorted face at the confusion to my adamant response, he replied that I would never be taken care of-- but what does that mean?  With money? When you leave this world, you leave with nothing.  What is money if there is no love... 

Insulted and angered, I left that night and stewed. The thought that the horrific ideology of others in this insidious society which everything-- and everyone-- has a price was both alarming and offensive.  It was catching spit to the face.  Excuses (from others) that he was drunk were to of no effect to me, and do not rectify the situation.  As we all know, alcohol lowers inhibition and the true character rears its ugly head.



This was my realization.  I am better than that.  I deserve better than that.  The last few years of running amuck in a crowd that prides itself on wealth and vanity won't get me anywhere, and was an egregious error on my behalf for ever doing so.  What do I have to offer in a group such as that? I cannot even bring myself to think...  I only devalue myself by continuing to be devalued by others.  This isn't me.

I've always had a tendency to be savoir-faire.  To do what it took to be accepted, and get ahead.  To be agreeable.  To be liked.  To say what others wanted to hear.  To adapt and make do of any given situation. There comes a time though, when adapting only hurts you and hinders individuality.  It goes against your beliefs, your feelings and everything you stand for.  This behavior, the pomp and circumstance of an elitist crowd, was never a part of me which defined me-- I was raised better than that, but it is one of the broken fragments of my past that I need to put to rest and in doing so, move forward,. 

I am happy to have found work, albeit temporary, until I can segue into a career.  I am happy to have a family that supports me as I continue to better myself, and I am proud to be with someone who loves me for who I am. 


I can't be bought-- not with money, purses nor red-bottomed shoes.  None of your colorful, silken shirts will ever win me over, Gatsby.  I'm not a friend for when it is only convenient.  

And to you? I am just your bartender, with a brighter future than you could ever imagine. 


-- Malia Etienette

Photo Credit:
Money-  www.passedupstrange.blogspot.com - getty images
Assimilation- www.loosenessofassociation.com
Ecard- www.steffieshare.wordpress.com
Great Gatsby- www.pinterest.com