How You See Yourself vs. How the World Sees You, Hair Kills, & Can Meghan Catch a Break?

Ever had one of those moments where you realise the way you see yourself is wildly different from how others see you? Like, you think you're exuding "boss energy," but the office whisper network has you down as "a bit scary"? Or you see yourself as a friendly, approachable leader, yet your team secretly describes you as "efficient but terrifying"?

I recently took one of those cognitive assessment tests for a job, and let me tell you, the existential crisis it triggered was chef’s kiss. It had a list of adjectives to describe myself in both personal and professional settings. The discrepancy between Work Me and Home Me was giving full-blown double life.

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In my personal life, I see myself as  happy go lucky, sometimes anxiety riddled, protective, and fun. But in the workplace? Apparently, I’m ambitious, intense, and maybe a little…overbearing? Can I be both? Or does one cancel out the other? And if so, who the hell am I really? Like 2 sides of the same coin - doesn’t this make me whole?hmmm…

Just this morning, a contact of mine whom I have known for a while said to me -” I am not sure who Arieta is” I mean I don't think most people do. That winded me a little…You spend years carving out a space in the world, leaving breadcrumbs of your identity—your work, your values, your damn essence—only for someone to come along and go, “Hmm, who even are you?” Excuse me? Did I not just launch global brand campaigns, build communities, and negotiate with pop culture icons? Did I not painstakingly curate my career, my presence, my brand? I guess not. People are well aware of what I do, just not who I am, because for a long time, I closely aligned who I was with what I did.

Perception is a tricky little beast. What we think we’re putting out into the world isn’t always what people are receiving. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, some folks just don’t get it. Maybe they weren’t paying attention. Maybe they weren’t the right audience. Or maybe, just maybe, we evolve so much that the version of us that exists in people’s minds is a ghost of who we were, not a reflection of who we are. Now this is a BARRRRRR!!!

So what now? Do I embark on an existential PR campaign to make sure everyone knows who Arieta is? Or do I take a step back and realise that maybe it’s time to redefine how I show up? Either way, I refuse to accept that my presence has been a whisper when I have been out here making goddamn noise. F**k that! I believe I have shown up as my authentic self in most situations so this conversation has kinda left me In a bit of a tizzzzz.

Gif from @Giphy 

Hindsight is a Scam

Hindsight is a scam, though. The fine print of life really should come with a disclaimer: Warning: Lessons will only be revealed after maximum suffering has been endured. I mean, why can’t wisdom come via express shipping instead of the slow, painful, soul-crushing route like Royal Mail? Why can’t it be Evri? Or even UPS or DHL?

There are so many things I wish I had known when I was younger. So many decisions that could have been different. So many detours I could have avoided. But no—apparently, we have to go through the nonsense, the heartbreak, the mess, before the universe decides to hand over the lesson. The wait for wisdom is brutal. And Life? Life be Lifing with a vengeance.

Sometimes, I just want to hit the fast-forward button and skip to the part where I already know what I need to know, where I don’t have to stumble through mistakes just to get to the part where I nod sagely and  have my eureka moments. But no. Instead, we get the joy of learning through pain, regret, and the occasional WTF moment that makes us question every choice we’ve ever made. I digress.

I Am Not My Hair… But It Can Kill Me

Relaxers or synthetic hair extensions—pick your poison.

Reports are coming out left, right, and center about how the very products Black women use to maintain our hair are literally poisoning us. It’s not just relaxers anymore. Now synthetic extensions used to style our hair—aka the protective styles—are being called out for their cancer-causing potential. I read an amazing piece by Nesrine Malik in The Guardian this week, and I am still SHOOKETH!

This is some real-life, dystopian horror. The Black hair industry is a billion-dollar global empire, yet Black people barely own a fraction of it. We are the consumers, not the beneficiaries, and yet we find out the products we rely on are actively harming us? Just like Johnson & Johnson baby powder, almost everything seems to be designed to kill us—albeit slowly and painfully, without us knowing.