Everything I’m Not, Made Me Everything I Am
Cat-walking my way out of modelling, my story, and why I found myself in my freedom
my first runway show, I hold so much respect for these designers
I have been wanting to write this blog for a while, but I finally feel clear-minded enough to put my feelings into words; writing, I often lean towards, to dump my emotions, and maybe reach someone feeling the same.
I also finally have 6 hours on a flight to Vancouver where I can’t be distracted. I seriously recommend other writers to just get on a plane going somewhere and use the hours to write, it’s the best feeling.
Man, this has been such a long-time coming.
Probably one of the more difficult blogs I have had to write because it’s so personal. It’s not because I’m sad, but because it forced me to confront traumas and painful decisions that are sometimes difficult to talk about.
An athlete my whole life, my identity felt ever intertwined with that version of myself. Especially during the crucial growth years of 18-21, if I wasn’t a runner, then who was I.
Every athlete suffers with this “end.” Something you are is no longer, and you enter the void of the unknown. Similar to anyone graduating from college and trying to figure out “real life,” the lack and confusion is a lot to bear.
For myself, I suffered from such sentiments. But I buried those feelings of possible failure, into a new career, into something vain and egotistical because those facades are the easiest for humans to attach to.
I started modeling in college when I was 20, around that same time, I was in my first bout of therapy.
Looking back, I can finally see why I went that first time. I remember meeting the therapist for the first time and I was like, “I don’t know why I’m here honestly.” I just had the overwhelming feeling of anxiety towards who I was and what I understood and I felt like therapy was maybe the place to be, I didn’t realize what I would uncover or learn about myself.
Faith was everchanging in my life, so was my purpose, who I wanted to be, all big question marks. And I realized I suffered with that constantly, most often, I was always trying to be who others wanted me to be.
I started talking about my childhood and eventually, opened up about the bullying I experienced in elementary school. It was the most bizarre feeling because I felt so disconnected from that child and who she was, I actually remember telling my therapist that I felt like she, my younger self, was weak.
I was taunted for wearing glasses, having braces, and a unibrow. I was a little nerdy and certainly didn’t fit in. Through 2nd to 7th grade, I had no friend group, and was severely outcasted.
young Al with a cat in her first magazine—some things never change
I wouldn’t totally credit therapy with my self-realizations of what happened to me as a child. What happened to me programmed me in such a way that took me away from my true self, and those true realizations haven’t occurred until recently through other difficult times in my life and my own personal self-growth practices.
But it did open the conversation for the first time for me, and taught me not to despise that child as much as I did, as if that side of myself was embarrassing because, she wasn’t strong.
I can still pinpoint the exact moment and the exact person who told me I was pretty for the first time in my life.
It was at a track meet in 7th grade, I had already become a known track star at my elementary school and across the Catholic school region so I had gained small popularity from those accomplishments, furthering my attachments to my identity as an athlete and the constant seeking of outside validation.
In the girl’s bathroom a popular girl (who already had Facebook and everything, in fact she called it Fbook and I thought that was the coolest thing ever), came up to me and was like “omg you are so insanely pretty,” making the other girl I went to school with who never had anything nice to say, share her sentiment.
In case you were unaware of how the brain works when it comes to memories, our memories are stored when they are attached to a heightened emotional response. That’s why we can remember the terrible things that happened to us so clearly or any other moment that gave rose to extreme emotion, like the feeling of finally being accepted.
When I realized how much this memory changed me, the way I can remember how that validation made me feel, it’s like I’ve been riding that wave up until this moment.
new york fashion week 2019
To feel validated in this world, is something we seek so vehemently, we don’t realize the way we lose our true nature. To fit someone’s version, we break ties with ourselves, because communal support means higher chances of survival, it’s human nature.
The journey back to self is never-ending because life isn’t all about survival, it’s also about just living.
I became someone I’m not proud of after that first moment of validation, thirsting for more, I became a mean girl, fiending off of the embarrassment of others, forgetting I was a victim not just a year ago.
Vain. Self-entitled, and at times, incredibly selfish. I knew the whole time it wasn’t me. Somewhere in there, I was still the girl who cried when she saw a goat because I loved animals so much, the girl who played bad guitar shamelessly because she was expressive and creative, and the girl who felt pride in winning the English award in 12th grade even though I acted embarrassed about it.
Because look at me now, a free-lance writer for my own blog, and two others.
my first published photo— the photographer I worked with was such a talented kid who went on to do more amazing things
I buried who I was in the commentary that I received from modeling. I chased the endless high of the “you’re stunning, you’re so beautiful, you’re EVERYTHING, look at your body, I’m obsessed.”
Behind the commentary, the reality is I’ve been essentially silently suffering from body dysmorphia, obsessive control eating, self deprecating thoughts, and bouts of self-hatred.
If I’m going to be completely transparent, I can imagine that almost every girl in the modeling industry suffers from these exact feelings.
The constant, intense pressure to be fucking perfect.
You act like it’s fine, that it comes with the job that you CHOSE to be apart of, but to young girls especially, your brain development becomes compromised with adults telling you that you’re too fat, your hips need to come down two inches, if your chest was only flatter, you have too many tattoos, come back to us when your skin clears, you’re not “edgy” enough for the industry, you’re not tall enough…and it goes on and on.
It can be easy to bury those critiques and act like they don’t hurt you because on Instagram you have a fanbase dying to see your next shoot, your next job, so they can pour their obsessive thoughts towards you and again, and again your validation cup fills like a heroin addict getting their fix.
I’ve been my face for so long, that at some point I forgot I had a brain.
I’ve identified for so long with what I look like, that I allowed it to become my weapon, my crutch, and my saving grace.
Not realizing that all I’ve been doing is, day by day, suppressing those feelings of that 10-year-old girl sitting at the top of a cement staircase wanting to jump because she felt so alone.
We are all, in a sense, day-to-day, in the act of numbness. In a “pick your poison” society in dire need of waking up and feeling, something.
I’m comfortable feeling now, and that Self I am now connected with allowed me to finally disassociate with something that has made me feel so disconnected.
I’m not here to say that the modelling industry is incredibly vile and all bad. I met incredible people in this industry, creatives who make art, and together we often told a story. I still take pride in a lot of those images, and works of art I got to promote to others on the runway.
However, is the industry primarily self-serving and shallow? I would say so.
People want to believe that just because you see it being more “inclusive” with finally allowing petite models, plus-size models, models with tattoos, models with scars, and models with disabilities, that the industry has changed.
And it HAS and I am so happy for everyone who gets to finally feel included. But I can promise you, that you still need to fit an agenda, you still need to “look” how they want.
For example, I was a model with tattoos before you could really be a model with tattoos. But I was constantly told I wasn’t “edgy” enough, I need to “edge up” my portfolio by wearing more leather, getting more piercing, and maybe dying my hair red.
But I’m not edgy? I don’t like wearing leather, I like my long brown hair…I’d prefer not to bleach my eyebrows.
There was a point in Miami Fashion Week where I was told that I would be cast if I had less tattoos and I went as far as messaging a girl I knew who does tattoo removal to see if she would remove some for me.
My ART. I allowed people who do not even matter in my life to have me question my art, my decisions, and who I am innately.
There’s nothing wrong with becoming a chameleon for something you love, but it’s easy to become a puppet in a Pinocchio world.
I ended up walking in Miami Swim Week, and New York Fashion week, being signed by several agencies, getting good jobs, and feeling like I was finally accomplishing more than I could in track and field.
My identity transfer was successful, and I leaned into the confidence it gave me when I told people I was a “model” and I had my agency tagged in my Instagram bio and I made myself look “model busy” on my Instagram stories.
Within the past year and a half, I experienced myself changing, not into someone new, but into someone familiar that I knew before.
I started studying something I love, I started feeling a purpose, I started feeling connected to others, I started meditating, and I started feeling and understanding.
This version of myself no longer belonged in that world.
I started feeling validation from MYSELF, taking pride in my stillness.
When you’ve suffered from self deprecation for so long, finding love within yourself and in the moments where you are still and quiet are the most powerful.
No one, no longer, can take away my “am” in “I Am.” The two most powerful words uttered, ‘I Am’… whoever I want to be.
That freedom makes it next to impossible to adhere to the guidelines modeling pressures you into.
Being the perfect 32, 25, 32, was of no interest to me. My body was shaped as my body was shaped.
Having long brown hair so I looked “Latina” to book more jobs even though I’m Guyanese and Irish was of no interest to me either, so in rebellion I dyed my hair blonde.
My exit from modeling was not pretty, and I regret the way it transpired, but it’s another lesson I get to learn as I grow.
I read the other day about how millennials have started the trend of “silently quitting” where they stop doing what they’re supposed to, to indicate they don’t care anymore and pretty much want out, so once they’re fired it’s more or less relieving and not painful.
I thought that was hilarious because I couldn’t believe I was the only one who does that!
Essentially, I stopped doing the castings my agency sent me, mostly because I prioritized time spent on this business and blog rather than with submitting a video that will take me like 2 hours.
I stopped caring about doing “book updates” because my money was going into my entrepreneurial endeavors that made me feel inspired, not to take pictures of myself.
But most detrimental, I died my hair blonde without telling my agency about it, and that was the straw that broke the camels back.
What I feel regretful about is ever wasting anyone’s time when my heart wasn’t in it. That is the lesson that is most important to me, that instead of shying away from confrontation like I often do in the fear of letting other’s down, all I’m doing is letting them down anyways by wasting their time.
When it finally happened though, the feeling of freedom rushed over me and I realized, now, I can be anybody I want to be.
I don’t need a title, I don’t need validation, what you’ll get is just me, and in this world, that’s all I need to feel fulfilled.
I fill my cup; I hold responsibility over my own life.
I tell people all the time, we are an accumulation of choices and today I choose myself, and tomorrow I will choose myself too.
I have love for everyone I met while in this industry, I have love for everyone who feels passionate about it, this is not judgment, just my story. I hope no one ever loses themselves the way that I did.
In a world that emphasizes what you have, who you are, and what you look like, dare to exist exactly as you are.
This is only the beginning of my journey back to Self; I hope you stay with me through it all.
one of my favorite photos-photographer: @brotherjunior