Silly girl

A man I was seeing once said he wouldn’t describe me as ‘silly’

I have never felt less seen or misunderstood in my life. Silly was in my blood, it was in everything I said and did. How could he not see that in me?

I then realised, perhaps he was right. I had lost my silly, or at least she had faded. The loud, accent adopting, commitment to the bit theatrical persona was quashed in the name of being appealing, attractive, feminine, sexy.

Then.

In harder times these past three years, I have watched my silly fight for her place but be pushed away. Silly is jarring, silly is polarising, silly is lacking in taste and sophistication. Silly is girlish, not the behaviour of a woman.

Me and a woman I would be honoured to grow to be like (my mummy)

There have been ambassadors of silly in my life. That no matter when the silly seems distant, remind me of her value. My mother being one. Phoebe, another.

Phoebe and I. One of many.

But seemingly alone in big new cities for 3 years now, I hadn’t checked in with silly in a long time. Perhaps I am just somebody who WAS silly, who had been wrong about her identity as a silly person altogether.

But silly struggles to stay hidden. And a true silly person catches silly in its glimpses. This year, some wonderfully obnoxious fools saw the silly in me. Saw through the prideful facade and tickled the silly back out. Some, quite literally. Strangely and surprisingly to me, it was this silly that they were drawn to.

My POV of street vibes with Kudzai

I now see that silly is beauty, confidence, playfulness, joy.  I feel more valuable and loveable than ever before. I am celebrated for my obsurdity. Embraced for my lack of decorum. I feel more comfortable in my skin, less inclined to hide and more inclined to be seen as the imperfect chaos that I am. Silly is back with a vengeance. Silly found me my people.

I am grateful for silly. For childlike foolishness. In this challenging time in the world I hold onto moments of nonsensical fun. Accent work. Running down the street for a sweet treat. Fully embodies character bits. Singing full out. Communicating exclusively through melodic song. Attempted backbends. Impromptu scat riffs. Egregious across room faux flirting. Bad slam poetry pistakes. Choreographing sub-par dance routines. Cackling, not laughing, cackling!

Now.

I am not only safe to be silly in company, but have found my silly in solitude returning. Giving into the will to skip down the street or laugh out loud on the tram.

I skip down the street, laughing because some special people saw my silly.

To those idiots, thank you.