Me and My Shadow
Response to Logan’s Corner Writing Prompt
I performed this piece for Mt Diablo Unitarian Universalist Church, on Sunday March 27, 2022, as the Call to Worship in a service talking about shadow and light, Jungian philosophy, and the Transgender Day of Visibility! Logan’s (@logansilkwood) writing prompt “Tell your story with different words” inspired the style of this particular retelling.
We each have a shadow, of course. When the light is right, we can see it there, unique to each of us, yet two-dimensional, and taking the color and texture of the surface it happens to be cast upon. It’s a bit like a chameleon that way, more or less holding our outline while blending in, unnoticed and safely ignored.
Shadows are safe, you see. Harmless, blending in, drawing no attention. That which lies in shadow is hidden from the light. That can be useful. We can hide things in shadow.
Sometimes, we can even hide ourselves. It’s a matter of safety, you see. When hiding within a shadow we are seen as blending in, drawing no attention. We don’t risk making others uncomfortable with our presence. We don’t risk provoking outrage or violence through our visibility.
Living one’s life hiding in the shadows has its own costs. There’s the effort of maintaining that shadow, keeping up a socially acceptable, safe but dull presence to hide behind. There’s the impact of having to remain hidden in the shadows, isolated, feeling blue, and dealing with that very uncomfortable blend of depression and anxiety that arises over time.
Some of us are told that this is how we must live, that the only acceptable way of living one’s life is appearing to be socially acceptable, safe, not making others uncomfortable with our presence. Oh, this is rarely an explicit message. We are told how we must live by the jokes others tell about folks who are a little different, by the horror stories told around campfires and mass media that associate being different with monstrously bad behavior. There’s an implicit caution that being a little too different will result in our being seen as the butt of jokes, or the horrific monster menacing others and provoking the wrath of the villagers.
It is a poor way to live ones entire life, just to avoid making others a bit uncomfortable, while worrying that if discovered, the villagers might break out the pitchforks and torches. This tends to take the joy out of life.
Some of us are fortunate enough to enjoy the privilege of actually living our lives as ourselves. We may live in places where the law actually forbids ending us with a quick round of “monster and the villagers” or prohibits our being forced into treatments designed to push us back into shadow as a sort of reparative therapy. In these places we can actually step out of the shadow into the light.
Stepping out of our own shadow and revealing ourselves feels like a very dangerous move to many of us. All those bad jokes, the thoughtless comments, and the horrific media depictions have conditioned us to expect the worst. We often need to see that it is possible to live our lives as ourselves. We need to see that beyond the transient troubles we might experience, that there is an opportunity to find joy and peace to replace that depression and anxiety.
We need to receive that message that we will be all right. We need to know that others have done this, that they are thriving outside of the safety of shadow.
It’s going to be all right. When we gather on the side of love, supporting one another, it’s going to be all right.
I’m Michelle Paquette, and my pronouns are She/Her/Hers.
This writing was inspired by the song “Me and my shadow”, written by Al Jolson, Billy Rose, and Dave Dreyer in 1927.
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