I want to write about sensitive sociocultural issues, and I'm struggling to figure out how to share my work without upsetting my mother. She worries that if I publish content regarding semi-taboo topics, it will endanger future opportunities. I'll knock on the door, they'll open it to glance at me, and then slam the door shut again. A potential employer might Google my name and be repulsed by what they find, for who-knows-what reason. It could definitely happen.
I don't want to limit my future more than necessary. A certain amount of limiting happens naturally and is unavoidable--for example, I'm unlikely to be a scientist, because of my personality and my academic choices. That's okay. However, someday I might want to work with a religious organization, or a school. I can always scoff, "I don't want to collaborate with close-minded people anyway!" But... I'm hesitant to declare that. Never say never, right?
On the other hand, I have an irrepressible need to express my thoughts and share them. It's compulsive, even imperative. I'm not
me if I'm not writing and offering myself to readers.
My mom also worries that a preoccupation with "sordid" topics, especially aberrant sexuality, indicates that I'm falling back into depression. I go back and forth about it.
What I
do know is that I want to feel free to tackle difficult subjects, and use "four-letter words", and engage in textual analysis of myself and my peers. I want my writing to be uninhibited by the last generation's mores.
It's funny; the poem that sparked this post isn't even slightly salacious:
swollen bug-bite
fat bottom third of my index finger
sore lump, red pinprick
fucking monsters in my bed
I was just worried about the profanity. I feel like "the F-word" needs to be in the poem, not that this poem is particularly essential, but swearing was necessary for the punchy finish I craved.
I don't know.
