Look. I love the DC/Marvel Universes and superheros and classic shows and movies as much as the next person – but I am tired.
I am tired of reading/watching/listening to the same stories about or told by the same people when so many of our stories – my story – are never told, never examined, never amplified.
I am exhausted seeing headlines heralding all these firsts – whether from Asian Americans, Asian American women, Asians in general, or any other people of color or historically marginalized persons.
Quite frankly, I’m bored.
We deserve better.
We deserve better stories than the 15th movie iteration of Batman.
But as my friend, Brandi Riley, told me, we have to stop waiting for an invitation that will never come.
I need to stop waiting for an invitation that will never come.
If we want to hear our stories, we need to write them. If we want to read our truths, we need to declare them.Our stories matter. Our ordinariness matters. And there are stories worth hearing and loving and making room for in our ordinariness.
It occurred to me (or rather, a group of trusted colleagues told me) that we may want to tell our stories but have no idea how to tell it. Or we want to tell a story, but we don’t think we have one.
So I was ordered (erm, strongly encouraged) to start a writing prompt challenge (just for 4 weeks because I might freak out and get overwhelmed and then never do it) to encourage any and all who want to write but are stuck or afraid or perfectionists or <insert really good reason>.
And seriously, if I let that previous sentence fly and think it’s excellent writing, you should be just fine.
Ohohohohohoh… perhaps I should clarify rules and parameters and such vital minutiae.
1) Starting today, I will share the #OrdinaryStories prompts every Wednesday for 4 weeks.
2) Write anything you want (poetry/personal narrative/fiction) that is inspired or jump-started by the prompt. (poems: min 30 words; stories/narratives: min 100 words)
3) Share your piece with the hashtag #OrdinaryStories
It doesn’t matter what you write – just that you do. You don’t even have to share. The purpose is to write.
Poetry. Stream of consciousness. Tween journal entry.
It can be utter crap. That’s okay.
Oh, and the reason I am calling it #OrdinaryStories Project?
We are told – whether overtly or covertly – that our stories as women or marginalized persons are not important. That only the big movers and shakers or the breakout unicorns or people doing big things of our kind can get their stories told.
That only those of us with extraordinary stories are worth recounting.
That is a lie.I am tired of reading/watching/listening to the same stories about or told by the same people when so many of our stories - my story - are never told, never examined, never amplified.
Our stories matter. Our ordinariness matters. And there are stories worth hearing and loving and making room for in our ordinariness.
For what are the huge, spectacular fireworks of success made of if not the millions of ordinary, boring tasks?
What are the grandest, long-lasting romances made of if not the tiny, quiet moments of faithfully doing laundry, cleaning bathrooms, and making dinner?
What are the most sweeping of epic stories made of if not thousands of tiny letters and words?
I want to hear your #OrdinaryStories.