Imposter.  How many variations of this role do I embody?  Korean Imposter.  American Fake.  City Dweller Pretender.  Almost Earned Doctorate Degree Counterfeit.  Mother Without Her Own Mother Phony.  Bisexual Woman in Committed Relationship with a Man Masquerader.  Bisexual Woman of Color in Committed Relationship with a White Man Double Trickster.  Creative Writer and Artist ConWoman.

These are the titles that trip through my thoughts on a regular basis in my search for my identity.  My life is filled with this search for personal identity.  Belonging.  Connections.  In between the lapses of faith ~ the faith that says firmly without flinching that I am who I am, nothing more  nothing less ~ that is when the voices of judgment and comparison grow the loudest.  Those times and times like this, when I grow close to achieving a hard-worked-for-goal or impulsively accept a sincere compliment, the accusations grow loud.  Clamor.  fight for the mic.

I have spent a life time of staving off the voice that chants imposter  fake   fraud    pretender  trickster    deceiver.  I am more than those nouns.  I am me.  I am my own Real Deal. 

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