Jalia Kangave

For over ten years, a little voice has been telling me: “write”. My reply: “I am not a writer”. The little voice nudges: “write”. And I reply: “but I am not good enough.” Even though I have been in academia for more than 15 years and written a number of articles and book chapters, I never really thought of myself as a writer. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that I was not writing the kinds of stories that mattered most deeply to me.

Last year, I gave myself permission to write. I gave myself permission to tell the stories of my life and the stories of my people. I allowed myself to go back to that little girl who sang without a care of what her voice sounded like. It is exciting. And it is scary. But now I don’t know any other way to be. It feels like I am just getting started!