"Wrong" Feelings

I remember once when I was maybe 13, I was crying in my bathroom, and my mom told me to stop faking it. My literal cry for help, attention, comfort, whatever it was at the time, was met with rejection, and it felt awful. It was very isolating.

Even today, at 24 years old, I felt a similar thing. I was talking about how some of the ways white people do Indian things feels inauthentic to me, and why I think that hurts Indian people in the U.S., and felt like Mr. was trying to, in his way, tell me to shut up. It was isolating.

My mother and Mr. aren't bad people. They can be very supportive a lot of the time. But what makes these moments different? Why do they dismiss my feelings and ideas instead of comforting me? Or, at the least, listening to what I have to say?

Something about those conversations prevents these people--these good people with good intentions--from listening without being defensive. For my mother all those years ago, maybe it was a fear that I did not love her, or that my tears were evidence of something far greater and more serious and reflected some fundamental truth about her ability as a parent. For Mr. I think it's a fear that my disagreeableness reflects on his own character, or that I'm making an otherwise "pleasant" conversation less so than if I said nothing.

In those moments, I have to remind myself that what I'm feeling is not wrong. And I hope you remember the same. During those moments where you're being told (explicitly or subtly) that what you're feeling is wrong, I hope you remember that your feelings are real, legitimate, and even if it's difficult for good people with good intentions to understand you in the way you're trying to be understood, you're not wrong for feeling what you are in that moment.

In fact, they are.

This quote by Louis C.K. comes to mind--

"When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide that you didn’t."

- Louis C.K.