Thahabu

I’m officially transferring to my school’s city campus for the fall semester. I’ve changed my major to film and screen studies with a minor in creative writing. I was nervous about switching programs. Most people have me pegged as the super-conscious girl whose only goal is to become a famous journalist or media connoisseur. I imagine friends and family turning their noses up at me asking, “What the hell are you go to do with a degree in film?” It doesn’t help that artistry sometimes seems like an exclusive pretentious club, filled with people waiting to see you fail or judging you for not going the traditional route, “Oooh so you’re interested in making films, eh? Well, let me tell you how I do it and how you shouldn’t do it!” That’s why I’m not very open about my creativity or story ideas, and why so many people were shocked about my interest in film.

Before making this decision I sought out my godsister’s opinion. She also graduated with a degree in journalism. I confided in her about how I’ve become bored and uninterested in my communications major, and only felt I was learning something of worth when I took my media production class, or classes that tapped into storytelling. It’s not that I no longer care about being media savvy, I would still like to pursue work in the field, I’m just not as passionate about it as I was when I was 11 years old. Before I could even mention how wary I was to tell other people about this change, my godsister cut me off to remind me to not let others dissuade me from my dreams. “Don’t let people tell you that you can only be good at one thing,” she said. I’d heard sayings like that before, but somehow I didn’t think it applied to me until that phone conversation. There are people who have known me for a long time and have this set idea of who I should be and what I should want to be successful in. When I show them that I have interest in something else, especially when it’s something that I’ve always like but just kept to myself, they find it surprising and act as if they’ve been duped. It’s like in Amy Rose’s essay “I’ll Be Your Mirror.” They don’t like seeing that different side of me, they want to keep me in a safe box of their own ideas where I don’t challenge their stifling view of me. It’s as if I’m allowed to sparkle until my shine becomes surprisingly brighter and blinds them, rendering me unrecognizable to those I thought understood me.

I held myself to being that girl who was good at one thing, even when I knew I could succeed in other activities and jobs. If I went out and did something else that would be weird, right? But I would never apply the same rules to my friends, so I won’t do to myself either. Why shouldn’t I pursue writing and film? I have all these story ideas that I think would work best on film. I don’t want them to curl up and die in a dark place in my mind.

I’m happy with my decision: The prospect of starting a new creative program has me so excited that I almost want to skip summer and go straight to fall (except, I love summer). I’m going to see if my dad will let me borrow his camera so I can start shooting random things and my friends over break. I feel like I’m busting with this a motivation and hope that I haven’t felt before. I know this is going to work out. ♦