Hey, it's me

Growing up, I was one of those little girls who always heard "She's shy."

I hid behind my parents' legs, watched the other kids play from a distance, and kept my mouth shut.

I'm not sure why I was so nervous, because I have two strong parents and grew up in a safe, warm community. Nevertheless, being "shy" became part of my identity.

As I became bolder and gained confidence by making some really great lifelong friends, I slowly became less shy. I created games at recess and answered questions in class. But still, that "shyness" crept up on me whenever I felt there was a possibility of failure.

In fifth grade, my teacher brought us into the computer lab to take a personality test and learn what careers we should pursue when we got older. I learned about introversion and replaced it with "shy" in my self-identification. I couldn't really call myself shy anymore anyway since I loved talking with my friends and playing sports.

High school introduced a world of new people and activities. I wasn't ready to share my more controversial opinions out loud, but I was excited to explore what that would be like.

I took acting classes, performed in plays, and joined the debate club. Each time, I got a rush from expressing deeply-held beliefs, even if they weren't my own. It was really safe to hide my own thoughts and pretend to embody someone else's for a few hours.

Introversion followed me into college, and while I threw caution to the wind and tried to have as many connections with different people as I possibly could, little voices in my head kept reminding me, "Don't spend too much time out there with other people. Remember, you're an introvert."

This was never really a problem because I'm also very studious. I could spend hours getting lost in a research paper or organic chemistry textbook.

But my introvert-identity caught up with me when I became passionate about righting global injustices. I mean, I couldn't fight for what I believed in unless I shared what I believed in. Out loud. To other people.

It was an internal struggle. I wasn't the "type of girl who protested," I was the type of girl who worked quietly behind the scenes. Yet I wanted to be on the frontlines, demanding action.

What finally tipped me towards speaking my truth was speaking with United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres.

He told me:

"Never be afraid to use your voice."

Like, shit, that man is the real deal. He is literally the leader of global governance as we know it. And he's telling me to speak up.

How can I not?

Unfortunately, it's not all that easy. His words inspired me into action and I started writing letters and joining groups like Youth4Nature and the Sunrise Movement. I even created a Twitter.

But identities don't shift overnight, and I was still stuck with a pattern of thoughts telling me, on loop, "You're quiet. You're an introvert. Don't share your ideas. You're not an expert. You don't have any credentials. Who's going to listen?"

The only way out is to build a body of evidence against, well, yourself. I see it as an internal debate. Every time I turn down an opportunity or turn away from a potential new contact, I see it as a point towards being "shy" and waiting for another moment for someone as influential as the UNSG to nudge me forward. (Yeah, like that'll ever happen again).

Alternatively, every time I say yes to a new speaking engagement, ask a question in a meeting, or commit myself to a climate activism group, it's a point towards speaking my truth and creating my dream planet.

And now, I'm starting a blog. Each post will be a point towards leaning into vulnerability and towards my goals.

So thank you for coming along the journey with me!