Disclosure: It is my hope that by getting these out into the open, I can finally release the associated feelings, much like with my divorce piece. Hopefully, it works. Prayerfully, it works.

You ever feel so passionately about something that seems so elusive? No matter how hard you push, how many pieces you write, you still feel like a fraud?

That's me and my creativity. My creativity and me? Whatever.

We've been in a lifelong battle. Well actually, we've only been battling for about 13 years. Yeah, that sounds about right, 13 years...when I officially entered adulthood. Still, considering that I'm only 30, that's almost half my life, so let's round up and say that we've been battling for half my life. Why?

Because I never felt good enough.

My trusted advisor once told me (and this person knows who they are, and will undoubtedly text me when reading this so let me get my eye roll ready) that DC gave me a fish out of water experience. Well, more like a "fish in an ocean when she once lived in a river" experience. DC is com-pet-i-tive. I'm surrounded by the best and the brightest, so whoever I thought I was previously doesn't matter. I have to work harder. The problem?

DC didn't do this. Columbia did.

The other problem? I can be lazy. Really, I'm not 100% certain that it's laziness and not sheer fear of myself and my abilities, but either way, I act like I don't have the discipline to accomplish. When I, and many others, know full well that I do.

Anyway, back to Columbia. Going to Mizzou was the first time in my life when I had to work hard for what I wanted. (shoutout to my former roommate who would try, despite her best efforts, to pull my ass out of bed and into the library--to get me to be the person she knew me to be. #hatch622 #forevergrateful) I was surrounded by the best and the brightest: at the time, Mizzou had the top Journalism school in the country, not to mention solid Engineering and B-schools. And because we were also a Big 12 school, people came from across the country to attend.

I quickly realized that my papers and poems, my performances in KC would only get me but so far here. Because my classmates were getting the same pat on the head from their circle that I was.

I was competing with thousands of Monicas. And some bigger and better Monicas, I'm big enough to admit that. Competing against your strongest and best self is terrifying. I fought.

But I also let doubt seep in.

"What were their ACT scores?" I wondered. "What did they get in Anthropology 101?" Monica, maybe you should choose something safer.

So I did. And instead of graduating with a BS in Journalism, I graduated with a BA in Interdisciplinary Studies (Communication, Black Studies, Psychology). Sure, I can use that degree now to emphasize my ability to think out of the box, and devotion to myself and my varied passions, but that wasn't why I chose it. I chose it to get out.

I was worried what others would say if it took me (gasp) 5 years to graduate from undergrad instead of the requisite 4. They'd question my level of intelligence (some still do because they don't understand my degree--more on that another day...hint it's not the same as a Gen Ed degree). They'd say I wasn't focused (I was, but only so much).

Looking back, I think I should've gone out of state. Perhaps that would've kept those voices at bay, or at least far enough away where I didn't have to listen. It's not easy to ignore the voices when your brother graduates WITH a job offer in hand (a very well paying job--almost 10 years after my graduation, I still haven't made his starting salary). But again, that's an aside, a rabbit hole that I don't feel like plummeting down today.

Anyway, I say all this to say that those insecurities I had then, I still have now. I often find myself asking these questions:

Can a Black woman writer who didn't go to an Ivy or Howard succeed? More specifically, can one who went to a PWI succeed?
1. No dig on the current Black woman intellectuals, but after reading a lot of their writing, it appears that many of them came from a place of privilege pre-college, and either went to Howard in search of their Blackness (something I never needed to find) or to an Ivy because they were brilliant (I could never--and I don't say that self-deprecatingly--I actually could never. I didn't have the grades).
Every.body.is.a.writer! Will people just think that I'm joining a trend?
1. This one bugs me. To the young lady at Columbia College in Chicago who berated me when I told her I wanted to get an MA in Journalism because I missed my chance in undergrad, sis, I get it now.
  1. I am not a journalist. At least not yet. But I am a writer. I bleed for writing. I don't bleed for journalism. There's a difference.

The root of those questions being: Am I good enough?

Y'all seriously, when I get texts or messages from you telling me how good a post was, and I respond with "Really?" It's not because I'm giving my best impersonation of Taylor Swift. I am truly astounded that some of my pieces resonate with you. Thank you so much.

So, I guess that's it. I've gotten it all out. Hopefully, with this I can continue to write. I can silence the voices in my head that tell me I'm not good enough, because it's damn hard to fight those and the outside voices as well.