I’ve been publishing poetry on a secret Instagram account for a while now.
Partly because I’m embarrassed about how new I am to this art form, partly because I feel like an imposter, but mostly, because the idea of showing you my poems is like showing you my innards and asking you to tell me I am beautiful.
I’ve published books about my personal life, and written about being depressed and anxious for national publications. I’ve been honest about not wanting kids, about my tarot obsession and coming out later in life.
But something about turning my thoughts into lyrical creations feels like an emotional challenge. Perhaps it’s because writing from your gut is more than one hurdle.
There’s the initial discomfort of choosing to dig around in your emotional landscape, uncovering joyful moments that have slipped away and experiencing hard times that you’d rather forget.
Then comes the task of shaping those experiences into something that not only feels truthful and authentic but also performs in a way that touches an audience in the way you intend.
But ultimately, for me, I use writing as a way to feel seen. A way to be visible in a world that wants queer women to be quiet.
The final step may be the most painful part: choosing to share those words with others and knowing that not everyone will like it, understand it or even care.
So why publish poetry at all? Why not just write it in my bedroom and keep it safe in the pages of my journal?
I don’t think this is a bad idea actually. There are hundreds of words in my journals and on my laptop that will never see the light of day.
The advice I always give to my mentoring clients is that you can always post your work anonymously. If you’re worried about a friend or family member reading it, or having your boss see you badmouthing your company, there is absolutely no requirement to attach your name to your work. Use a fake name. Create an anonymous instagram account.
But ultimately, for me, I use writing as a way to feel seen. A way to be visible in a world that wants queer women to be quiet.
For that reason, I knew that publishing my poetry was going to be an important part of my journey as a writer as well as an act of acknowledgement of my own creative spirit. A tangible action to prove that my voice matters.
It’s an act of empowerment to have my poems in a digital space instead of hiding in my notebooks.
Around September 2022, I made an instagram account and started posting little poems that were small enough to fit in a square. I tagged them in Spain (wow, really covering my tracks like a spy here) and told one friend that the page existed, because I knew she would think it was cool.
I shared poems intermittently over the last year and the act of posting those poems online has given me the confidence to take poetry more seriously.
I posted online and the world didn’t crumble. I shared my account with my newsletter subscribers and no one took the piss out of me. I look back on the posts now and again and having them collected in one place makes it feel more real.
It’s an act of empowerment to have my poems in a digital space instead of hiding in my notebooks. Just like I struggle everyday to take up space as a queer woman in a world made for cis heterosexual men.
But I know I can’t hide in the shadows forever. I know I need to, for my own well-being, share those words with you to prove to myself that I am allowed to take up space as a person, never mind as a poet.
So here goes, my Instagram account where I post all my poetry. I’d love for you to follow me to keep up to date with my journey and hopefully get inspired to take creative leaps of your own.
