Growing up, I always felt misunderstood. It didn’t matter how much I masked or how “socially malleable” to whoever I was around to win connection—I felt the difference in my bones. As a Black, queer, nonbinary, and neurodivergent person, I faced a lack of acceptance that came from everywhere: from my own community, from those outside of it, and eventually, from myself.

Anti-blackness and systemic domination don’t just affect our lives; they affect our intuition. At the root of anti-blackness is a preventative mechanism—a system of beliefs and practices engineered to erode the humanity of Black people and stifle the development of self. They force us to internalize perceptions of Blackness that aren’t ours. As Itabari Njeri says: “Nobody really knows us... so institutionalized is the ignorance of our history, our culture, our everyday existence that, often, we do not even know ourselves.”

I spent years using others as mirrors. Following Beverly Tatum’s application of Charles Horton Cooley’s “Looking Glass Self,” I let the external gaze, which was ultimately the white gaze, dictate my internal worth. This wasn’t just limited to friends and family; it included the very systems that offered me “refuge.” The very same institutions that promised social mobility in exchange for my soul.

Even now, I have to be honest: I have utilized Patreon, Instagram, and Substack as mirrors. I tell myself that “the people who need my words will find me,” but I cannot ignore the architecture of these spaces. These platforms are designed to perform identity. When we chase likes and engagement, we are often just staring into a digital version of that same cracked mirror. We are essentially asking the algorithm: “Am I worthy? Am I seen? Does my existence have utility today?”

I built an identity around these external transmissions until, at 36, I realized I had devolved into someone I no longer recognized.

How do you define yourself if the only available model of “success” comes from white, colonial roots?

College began my initiation into hustle culture. I lost myself in the grind—the networking, the studying, the performing. We are taught to construct our identities around “utility.” From the first time we are asked our major or our job title, we are really being asked: How do you function for the system? For those of us who are Black, Queer, and Neurodivergent, this “functioning” becomes a performance of survival. We exist within a cracked mirror. When the world is anti-black, it doesn’t reflect your soul; it reflects a set of “perceptions” you’ve been forced to internalize.

Do you feel like fragments of a self?

In college, I was a Major. In the workplace, I was a Title. I was emerging as a Brand—a curated, marketable entity—rather than a person. Branding is about consistency, static edges, and being liked. But a person, especially a neurodivergent one, is fluid, divergent, and “inconsistent” by capitalist standards.

Recently, I was terminated from a toxic workplace where I had spent a year and a half being profoundly misunderstood for my Blackness, my queerness, and my neurodivergence. I realized then that my “excellence” was just a high-level mask. I had adjusted my voice and mannerisms for the white gaze and their comfort. I was on autopilot, accessing my “brand” but losing access to my soul.

I felt like a stranger to myself.

Do you feel estranged from yourself? How do you know?

I knew I was lost when I found myself engaging in “self-help” consumerism—scouring articles and books just to gain perspective on who I was. I was trying to buy back the identity I had traded for utility. Frantz Fanon says: “I was responsible at the same time for my body, my race, for my ancestors.” Carrying that weight while trying to fit a brand is impossible.

I am on a journey to reclaim my identity. But reclaiming identity isn’t just “self-care.” It is Narrative Recovery. It is the act of shattering the looking glass and refusing to use the system as a mirror. We are moving from being seen to becoming the Seer.

In the next post, I’m excited to share insights from Dr. Della Mosley on the concept of “Storying Survival” and how we use counter-storytelling to reclaim who we are.

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In the architecture of our lives, we often use others as mirrors to define our worth. But when those mirrors are colonial, capitalist, or anti-black, they only reflect a distorted “brand” of who we are—never our soul.

Soul Space Strategy: Identify one “cracked mirror” in your life right now. Is it a person, a specific system, or a “rule” for success that you are officially ready to stop looking into for validation?

become a soul spacer

For those of us trying to remember who we are outside of the 'hustle.' Subscribe to my newsletter for zines and sense-making on the journey back to self. It’s a quiet corner for existential reflection, healing rituals, and the radical act of reclaiming your identity from harmful narratives and systems.