Diaries: Stage Fright & Suppression

Every last Friday of the month, Urban Juke Joint hosts its monthly open mic.  I attended for the first time last month. I stood in the back, behind a massive crowd, listening to the talented, gifted and soulful ignite our minds with poetry and song. So inspired to share a few of my own personal words, I anticipated taking the mic.  But fear and a missed chance to sign-up as performer, held me back.

This month, I promised myself that I would perform. I attended last Friday with intention to spitting my verse. Still incredibly nervous, I made sure not to tell any of my friends. I didn’t want a familiar audience. However, I did attend with a date, a new guy I hardly knew.  I figure if I bombed, I’d just stop returning his calls. So we arrived at the Baha’i Unity Center. Blvck hipsters,  thinkers, cool kids and bohemias filled the room. Because March is International Women’s History Month, open mic was dedicated to the ladies. The pressure was on. There’s no way I could pass up this chance as a lady poet with so much to say. My date was surprisingly encouraging, pushing me to sign up to perform. He even introduced me to other attendees as a performer of the night. Didn’t I already mention that the pressure was on? Despite his optimistic support, I let that yellow sign-up sheet pass me by.  And I sat there. I sat there listening to these beautiful women pour out their souls. Bravely peeling away their bruised layers of sexual abuse, domestic violence, shame, love and love lost.  I sat there wowed and tickled by their clever tongues. Wordsmiths. These glorious wordsmiths and literary queens made me feel both inspired and uneasy. I felt uneasy with my own talent and even more uneasy with my fear of performing. Such weakness is hard to accept.

After three hours, open mic went into intermission and Urban Juke Joint’s host Definition announced that there was another sign-up sheet for the second half of the night. My date and I had our coats on, ready to go. Still there was something yearning within me. My date persisted that I stay and perform. As the universe would have it, something magical happened. A friend I haven’t seen in 4 years arrived at the door as I was exiting the center. Her boyfriend is a spoken word artist. What are the odds that after not seeing her at all for nearly 5 years, she would show up the night that I was itching (yet afraid) to perform? Of course, my date who surely became my biggest cheerleader of the night, told her I was meant to perform. With much encouragement from the two, I took off my coat, signed up and prepared to finally participate.

With every “The next artist coming to the mic is”  mention from Definition, my heart sank. My hands were trembling. I did not memorize my poem so I had to read it off of my phone…Drake style. As I waited for my name to get called, I edited and re-edited my poem. Sweaty palms, shortness of breath and all, “Kay-dee-yah” finally was called. (I wrote down both my name and the phonetic spelling in parenthesis just to avoid mispronunciation. But, the host really broke down my name like that. Perhaps it could be my stage name?)

I walked up to the mic. Spotlight on me. Trembling. I explained to the crowd the inspiration behind my poem and realized the irony. My poem is called Suppression and it’s about my struggle with participating in life. I find myself constantly second-guessing myself. It’s about overcoming doubt and doing what makes me feel alive. This performance brought me to life. I took a deep breath and my story was told. I didn’t practice yet the flow came so naturally.  The snaps and the grunts of agreement filled me with confidence. I only became nervous again when it was over.

Shy and timid, I walked to my seat with my head down and a smile on my face. After the show, I was met with so much love. Strangers embraced me and thanked me for expressing things that they also feel. My friend and my date were also proud. The moment is something I will never forget. There are always hints and nods surrounding us. Unseen signs of reassurance. That silent and comforting “yes,” makes itself present to us every now and then. That moment was my yes, it was my nod, it was everything I need to continue with my journey. Definition gave me the assignment to write a poem about happiness for the next month. Without a doubt, I will be there on that mic.

SUPPRESSION by Kadia B. (or Kay-dee-yah?)

Ain’t nothing like feeling suppressed

it’s a little worse than feeling DE-PRESSED

you see, depression draws out your emotions…your fears

it forces you to look reality in the eye

whether that reality is real or a figment of anxiety, you are looking and facing SOMETHING in the eye

suppression don’t allow tears, it doesn’t allow any emotional release or expression.

SUPPRESSION   is standing still no matter HOW  much you want to move

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SUPPRESSION  holds you under water without so much of  A CHANCE to gasp for air

SUPPRESSION  is that loud voice in your head telling you “NO!” but then it’s countered with another loud voice which boldly asks, “WHY NOT?”

Now you’re going back and forth with yourself…questioning who you are and why YOU CAN’T SEEM TO BE YOU  in a world of them,

then comes the guilt…of never following your heart, the frustration with obedience

“don’t say that, you’ll look like this,

Don’t  speak  that way

don’t ask  that question, they’ll think you’re stupid

why would you post that? why would you write that?

do you really think this is art?

who do you think you are?”

at the end of the day when i think of the inevitable end of my life..

I wonder.. how much of all  this will matter and if I will ever actually be happy?

all this pressure to stay in line, so SUPPRESSED so the pressure builds up

and I am about to shoot through this narrow line,

zig zagging through this crowd,

zooming through the conformity

until I land  RIGHT OFF BEAT

depression allows you to feel but SUPPRESSION  does not

i’m tired of feeling so numb, it feels dead

breaking out of this suppression to revive my soul, my heart is in labor time for this rebirth

my mind is free, no more of this obsession with trying to be you, like you, or make you feel comfortable, time to overcome this suppression