How I Fell in Love With Her

Summary

The author describes a personal journey of self-discovery and eventual self-love, facilitated by writing and poetry.

Abstract

The narrative "How I Fell in Love With Her" is a poignant account of the author's lifelong struggle with self-identity and acceptance. It begins with the author feeling estranged from their true self, suppressed by external voices and societal pressures since childhood. The separation of mind, spirit, and body led to a complex inner life, where the author grappled with self-hate and disguised inner demons. The transformation occurred through a love for books, a quest for truth, and ultimately, through the power of poetry. The author found their voice at an open mic, embracing their identity as the "Rogue Scholar," and learned to challenge societal norms and reject inferiority. The journey culminated in a deep self-love, with the author now dedicated to sharing truths through words, influenced by a lifetime of experiences.

Opinions

The author believes that societal and familial pressures can stifle one's true identity and passion for truth.
They suggest that traditional education and religious teachings may not always provide the necessary reflection or truth one seeks.
The act of writing, particularly poetry, is presented as a therapeutic and transformative tool for personal resurrection and self-discovery.
The author emphasizes the importance of falling in love with oneself, which requires letting go of other loves and fears that dictate one's response to life.
They express that survival is an inadequate goal for life, advocating instead for a pursuit of truth and self-awareness.
The author values the open mic platform as a space for authentic expression, contrasting it with the restrictive nature of some religious environments.
They see their role as a "Rogue Scholar" as one that challenges the status quo and encourages bold inquiry.
The author reflects on their journey as a long process of maturation

It was love at first write

Rosenna Bakari with audience

I had known her all my life, yet we felt like strangers. I knew her passion for truth had been obstructed since youth, with voices not her own. They were void of value, antithetical to health, and perverse to the human spirit. They spoke only to the fear created in her by pressing down her body while taking hostage our mind.

At the age of seven, we went our separate ways. By we, I mean my mind, spirit, and body. The brain is complex and very capable of living three separate lives (or lies) at once.

Elders prayed over me to negotiate my release. But forgiveness of my debtor seemed only to suffocate me and exacerbate self-hate. I gave birth to inner demons that I was smart enough to disguise. Surely retarded on the inside, but I appeared externally wise.

I clung to books instead of people and traded religion research. I searched for truth instead of God and aspired to peace instead of profit. Then, one day, I fell in love with her. She — her — me; I fell in love with myself.

To fall in love with me I had to fall out of love with everything else. When trauma dictates our response to life we become so full of the world and empty of ourselves. Fear of failure and success, issues of abandonment and anxiety of intimacy co-exist. Your approach to life is topsy-turvy with survival as the goal.

When childhood passes you by or runs over you like a bulldozer, you die. No, there are two alternatives. You can stay a child forever or you can grow up extremely fast. Some survivors, like me, do all three. But, one day I fell in love with her.

I noticed her from the page writing promises in prose. Stanzas touching places her mind had never let her go. Turns out she was not dead at all, just a seed buried. I watched her bloom from a distance as she resurrected herself with rhythm and rhyme.

She turned to poetry because scholastic indoctrination was not enough to bring her back to her truest self. From the Sunday School class to the dissertation defense, what was reflected to her didn’t make complete sense. So, she kept searching, as sure as Christians keep churching.

I followed her to the holy grail — the open mic. There, she-her-me, we learned to speak. The platform wasn’t a pulpit stingy with truth. It was a stage where we could become the truth, interrupt the status quo, nullify the norm, and reject the hypothesis of inferiority. She resurrected us to sainthood as I fell in love with her.

I became the “Rogue Scholar” with peer-reviewed sonnets of truth untold. I decided to risk it all to knock down a few walls to see how far truth would take me. From Rose to Rogue Scholar, I am no longer guided by fear. I ask the questions others don’t dare because inquiry is the righteous path to truth. Ministry of poetry took me back to my youth, where I fell in love with her.

Now I humble myself to the god of words, to bring to life what awaits to be heard. I hear her whispers in my ear and transcribe it to the page. It took 50 years for me to come of age. That’s OK because, along the way, I fell in love with her.