being known feels like death and i die every day
Who am I if I don't reminisce about the past?
I started this blog in 2020. Six years ago. Which feels ridiculous to say out loud because in some ways I feel exactly the same, and in other ways I feel like five completely different people have lived inside me since then.
The name milotrashcan came from my obsession with self-deprecating humour at the time. I know this blogspot gonna be my diary (my favourite movie at the time was Bridget Jones), so if I make it unserious, make myself the joke first, it would feel less vulnerable, not as intense, not as sharp. That was the logic, sometimes I would look back at my younger self and think, "suka hati ko la, buat je la apa apa ko nak."
As I traced back the articles that I have published, the drafts that perhaps would never see the light of day, I am glad that I got to read back on them, kinda like time travel. But some articles surprised me because I don’t even think like that anymore. Even articles from just a year or two ago feel slightly outdated. It is true, the only constant is change. And I know this will happen again. I’ll reread this article, months from now, and want to trash (pun very intended) some of my word choices. Proof that I have a lifetime to be all the many versions of myself, which I would love each one of them, in spite of.
An anecdote that I found particularly funny was when someone sent me a 1.2k essay in response to one of my articles at 1AM. I was finishing up an assignment at the same time, half-asleep, trying really hard to understand what his arguments were even responding to. I remember thinking, did I really say that? Because I was pretty sure someone was impersonating me (which happened before, but anyways...). Turned out, it was simply because my stance on the said article that he was referencing had changed. So yeah, I do have some plans on revisiting those articles and putting a disclaimer of hey, this is not my stance anymore.
When I think about my experiences growing up, shame sat right at the centre of my teenage years. It shaped so much more than I realised at the time. I recalled talking in code when trying to ask for menstruation pads from teachers and female friends, words like roti, and such. Even something as natural as period was embedded in shame. Let alone any other internal inherent needs and wants that waited years before I could naturally say them out loud.
My desire to be seen, to be great, to pursue greatness, to be part of greatness, to do cool things, to be cool.
My needs of love, being wanted, being given attention, being cared for, and being seen.
It was embarrassing to speak these things into existence. For the longest time, these words didn't have a place in my vocabulary. It felt like I wasn't supposed to want that much, and wanting was already asking for too much.
"its not attractive to admit you are hungry or you want sex, wanting sucess might makes you seem unfeminine, a desire for love makes us weak, most radical thing a woman can do is want"
There was a specific time when I was growing up, where I was hugely depressed, and it felt like life passed me by. I could not remember a big chunk of my teenage years as I was mostly wallowed in sadness, and I hate talking about it. When friends in high school reached out to me, it felt weird because I couldn't remember them as well as they remembered me. What I do remember is being in sujud. Over and over again. Asking God to make things feel lighter. And He did.
At the time, the word agency felt foreign; it felt like life happened to me instead of me being an active agent going through life. Cruising, not knowing where the next stop was, or if we were even stopping at all.
Things started to shift around my pre-university days in Banting. I lowered the buoy, and I felt like myself again. Whatever that even means. People often describe me as extroverted, and maybe that’s true, but Banting was where I felt the most me. The friends I made there still have such a soft spot for me, and I for them. They didn’t even see my full personality, yet I felt deeply seen. And I remember thinking: if this is what it feels like to be partially known, what would happen if I became more of myself? I could die, but it is a hill worth dying for.
“if we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.” - Tim Kreider
The word mortifying comes from a Latin root meaning death. And being known could feel like dying. But, if you never submit yourself to that death, then what? The cost of never submitting yourself to death means you would never have an audience. If a leaf falls in a forest and no one sees it, did it even exist? So to that I say: persetankan rasa malu. I want to be seen. If you don’t perceive me, does Milo even exist? Otherwise, I’m just speaking into the void.
But yeah, before I write how much I have changed yadah yadah let me wallow for a bit yea.
I used to have this recurring fear: what if people like me now only because they don’t really know me? What if they get closer and realise I’m not as cool, or smart, or interesting as they thought? Is it worth it to tell people my fear (eg: naik basikal), my thoughts, the parts of me that others might find uninteresting? But as Jemima said, "I think you guys might be thinking about yourselves too much".
But fr, let me wallow more, I am cooking here.
I can be off-putting sometimes. I know that. I am very intense for the better or for the worse. But for every person who finds your interests weird, there will be someone who shares them. For every person who judges you for your mistakes, there will be so many more who meet you with kindness. It’s scary, yes. But still, submit to being known. You are worth knowing. “Do I want to be loved in spite of?”
“Do you? Does anyone? But aren’t we all, to some degree?
But I need you to understand something (look at me talking to the void, also no, you’re reading this, you’re not a void). This isn’t me being scared that people are going to find me peculiar. I really don’t care. All my girlies are gadis feral like me. Why do you think we’re friends? Lately, more than ever, I want to put myself out there because I want to do great things. I don't want "vague" good things or wait for the right time to come. I want great things. And I want people to know that I want that. I want to be seen wanting it, even if that makes me look a bit much.
When I first submitted myself to the scary ordeal of being seen, I thought it would just be about confidence. Or exposure. Or putting myself out there. But I thought to myself, what a waste of energy if I don't be more intentional. I don't want people to just see me and my personality. How do I make people care just because they know me? And that is how I got into advocacy.
To get through me, you need to care about what I care about. So when I ask, when I speak up, when I put myself out there, I’m not just asking to be seen. I’m asking: do you care too? And if the answer is yes, then maybe we can build something together.
And the scary ordeal of being known felt so insignificant when the urge to fight for what matters outweighs the embarrassment. Advocating for the things you love means this matters enough to me that I’m willing to risk being seen wanting it.
"anytime we wish to create something bold and new in our lives we need allies, ask can be an invitation to your inner world"
When I started being very open about what I want, I started attracting people who were aligned with my values without me having to force anything. People who were already looking for a place to belong. You are right across the room. I waved at you, and you waved back.
Another thing that I’ve learned, and I come back to this every time I feel small or underqualified, is that I can’t always be the smartest person in the room. I won’t always be the most charismatic either. But I can always be the most passionate person.
When I started doing this, people started mentioning my name in rooms I never imagined I would enter. Recommending me. Suggesting me for events and opportunities, endorsing me even without having to ask (I have genuinely run out of shameless things to do already). All because I decided to put myself out there and show, very clearly, that I wanted it badly.
Here are some of the things I achieved because I was beria and I put myself out there:
- I introduced myself to Miss Alia from Education Malaysia London. That led to me emceeing for DS Zambry at the Malaysian High Commission, which later brought me to emcee an event at the House of Lords, in which I was the youngest in the room. Takut, but I know I deserved to be there. And! I also emceed for Keluar Sekejap when they came to London.
- I received a competitive internship opportunity with one of the local CICs just three hours after the interview. They didn’t even interview the other candidates. Said that they have already listed me as their top candidate, and my passion during the interview sealed the offer!
- Last Ramadan, I raised £2,000 in two days and £5,000 in three weeks because I decided on the spot that I wanted to run a food bank. I messaged everyone I knew, and I promoted it everywhere (poor followers of mine had to watch the same story every other day).
- Got over my fear of putting my writing work out there and received some awards, some of my articles got published, and received money for just writing. Man, I gotta hella money.
- Lastly, I met so many incredible people who first found me through my work and stayed because we connected!!!! They see right through me and my work, and they care for the things I care about, and that is the highest recognition one could ever get. And for that, I am forever grateful. I will kiss each one of you on the forehead.
And I’ll keep being beria. Again and again.
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What I listened to when writing this article
- Think About by Midnight Fusic
- How Will I Know by Midnight Fusic
- Someone New by Hozier
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You might be interested in these articles:
https://mitadmissions.org/blogs/entry/the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-known/
https://agirlinthisworld.medium.com/building-connections-and-the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-known-an-essay-ccc7764da830
https://ronikbhaskar.com/the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-perceived/
https://medium.com/@hemalia.kd/into-the-mortifying-ordeal-of-being-known-to-be-full-of-insecurities-to-be-loved-e4b1886744fe
https://archive.nytimes.com/opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/
https://www.tumblr.com/notbecauseofvictories/618502039500128256/i-know-that-like-if-we-want-the-rewards-of-being?redirect_to=%2Fnotbecauseofvictories%2F618502039500128256%2Fi-know-that-like-if-we-want-the-rewards-of-being&source=blog_view_login_wall
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