Greetings from the hinterlands of Purgatory! Noggy and I have been on sabbatical, but slowly making our way back to the suburban hellscape of the Tower with its many amenities, including Nihilist Arby’s, the Office Depot District, Starbucks, and Factory Prime 1-day delivery. We fled to the wilderness to nourish our own creative hatchlings. It’s been a fertile season and on our return to The Seventh Terrace, we find ourselves with new perspectives and fresh grievances.
Today I want to discuss a particularly malodorous platitude that makes its way through the creative miasma in one iteration or another:
“You just have to believe in yourself!”
Meaning anything is possible, if you’re confident enough.
I’m sorry, but even I, Lola, a privileged white woman, have been bashed on the rocky shores of life one too many times to accept that. So I can’t imagine how sickening this affirmative rot feels to someone without my unearned advantages in life.
Believe!
You can print it in calligraphy across a rustic piece of wood and hang it next to your collection of Rae Dunn mugs in your farmhouse modern kitchen with the sliding barn door, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.
Except it is kinda true.
Not in the sense that the playing field is level, and if you fail at your authorial endeavours it’s purely due to a lack of determination, because hard work is always rewarded with success, right? What a snow job. I blame White Jesus, but whatever. What I mean is that on some level, there is a relationship between belief and success. Only it’s an inside job.
Externally, there’s a lot that’s out of your hands: the circumstances your were born into, your family and work obligations, financial stress, and let’s not forget the myriad ways society kicks you in the nads based on race, ability, gender, sexual orientation etc. because apparently you can’t “win” unless someone else “loses”. Once again we can thank the unholy trinity of patriarchy/capitalism/white supremacy. The giant thumb that may benefit the few over the many, but ultimately keeps us all down, and then tells you it’s not oppression, but your own flawed character.
Annnnnd this essay is turning into something a lot bigger and thornier than I intended. While I’m blaming things, I also blame my stubborn streak of justice and fair play. As the Goblin King says, “I wonder what your basis for comparison is?” But like, why can’t life be fair? Who is being hurt by fairness? If life were fair it would be a lot easier to believe in ourselves and use our gifts to their fullest and best. Yes, Lola is full of contradictions today. Bitter cynic and pie-eyed idealist all at once.
One thing we can agree on, I hope, is that it’s a privilege to be able to write in the first place, to have the time, resources, support, and mental bandwidth to do this thing we do and then whine about how hard it is. And it is hard. But we don’t need to make it harder by being the loudest voice in the chorus telling us we’ll never amount to anything.
Come back for Part 2 of the Confidence Game where I’ll be less ranty and more useful.
TTFN!
~ Lola
