Hood Famous
On public recognition, reputation, and external validation.
“Oh, you hood famous!”
Someone said that to my guy once when they were introduced, to mean that he’d heard of him by reputation, in his case because of the band he was in. They have been on an indefinite hiatus for literally a decade but in their prime they were rather well known in the region. I was used to it. He’s never met a stranger and people stop him everywhere we go. He is the entertainer after all… the face.
I’ve always wondered what that felt like on the inside. How it must feel to be known for your creative accomplishments, rather than your job title or domestic role, or embarrassing anecdote of the time you fell in the small town grocery store. I’ve wondered whether that kind of external validation does anything to dampen the imposter feeling.
Well, it happened to me for the first time ever. At 46 years old, I introduced myself to a new business owner in town and her response was “Oh, I’ve read your work!” then proceeded to tell me about a particular piece I had written, and how she had enjoyed it. I am here now to tell you that yes, it does feel great.
I could be humble and say it was nothing. No big deal. She was just being polite. But that would be a lie, and a disservice to both her love of reading and my reaction to her compliment. I’ve never been recognized in public as a writer, and after a few years of setbacks in that space, it meant the world to me. It’s a high I will be tapping into whenever I need a little encouragement to get back in front of the damned keyboard after a dry spell, like I am doing right now.
I recently applied for a very big writing opportunity with a publication I have idolized for 30 years. I sat on pins and needles waiting for something… ANYTHING… to say that their editors even read my submission. I know my chances of getting chosen for that opportunity were slim-to-none, but to even get a rejection letter from professional peers is to know that I am now on their radar. That they read SOMETHING of mine. That my voice was heard in a room full of people I respect to the highest degree in my field.
I went through every level of self-doubt and negative thought about my body of work during that waiting period. What am I doing? Why did I expose myself to “real writers” for critique? Are they all sitting around the editors’ desk laughing at my feeble attempt to join their esteemed ranks? What if I got the role… would I be good enough to fill it? To do it justice?
Then the “announcement date” for the opportunity recipient came… and went. No email. No published announcement on their website. No press release. No snail mail rejection letter on lovely stationary. Just silence. Somehow that was worse than all the other outcomes I had imagined.
While I wrestled with all the new insecurities the silence made room for, I went about my daily life, and in doing so, met new people, and had my very own “You hood famous” moment, right when I needed the boost the most. The idea of one person ‘in the wild’ finding value in my work somehow mattered more than any jury of my peers deciding whether I am worthy.
Drinking: Hazelnut coffee to start my day.
Reading: Preview snippets of “Elegy for the Irreplaceable” by Pamela Sue Hitchcock – Released April 14th from Atmosphere Press