Who I Am: A Personal Manifesto

For most of my life, my identity was defined by others. The church told me who I was: a child of God, inherently fallen, in need of saving. My culture told me how to be: suppress emotions, maintain appearances, follow the prescribed path.

I'm done with that.

This is who I am, on my own terms.

A Product of the Cosmos

At the most fundamental level, I am an amazing product of the billions of years that our cosmos has been expanding. Stars have been born and died. Hydrogen was fused into helium. Helium was fused into carbon and oxygen, and on and on throughout the aeons.

Eventually these basic materials coalesced into our solar system. Our sun was born, the earth formed naturally and eventually became capable of supporting life. Life arose and evolved over countless generations until humans came into being, and those humans eventually produced my life.

I am a manifestation of the universe's ability to produce beings capable of observing it.

This understanding fills me with more wonder than any religious cosmology ever did. I am not a fallen creation of a disappointed deity. I am stardust that learned to think, to feel, to question.

A Feeling Being Who Thinks

I am a feeling being that thinks.

Not the other way around. My emotions are not something to be hidden or ignored, but are a part of me that those who are safe to be around will be able to see and, when needed, be a support if those emotions get too heavy to carry alone.

This is a radical statement in the culture I was raised in, especially as a man. I was taught that emotions were weakness, that "real men" pushed them down, that feelings were obstacles to rational thought.

I reject that entirely.

My emotions are not weaknesses to overcome. They are information to be processed, experiences to be honored, connections to be shared. In a society that spits on emotional expression by men, I express them anyway.

That's courage, not weakness.

Not Defined by Shame

I am not the shameful behaviors I was raised with a bad understanding of. I was not given the proper tools to help me properly understand fundamental aspects of myself. That is not my fault.

It was a product of the religious environment I grew up in. That environment did not help me become the person I wanted to be but tried to mask it with an unachievable ideal that only exacerbated the shame cycle.

I understand now that my natural state is not one worthy of condemnation or the enemy of some unseen deity, but a manifestation of biological processes that have been honed over numerous generations.

The shame I carried for decades was installed, not inherent. I'm learning to uninstall it.

Core Values: Autonomy

One of my greatest values is individual autonomy. The right to exist and be as you are is of fundamental importance to me, and the autonomy I seek for myself naturally extends to others.

A natural outgrowth of that autonomy is the right to self-expression. Whether this takes the form of free speech, relationship preferences, or gender identity: all of these expressions are vital aspects of who we are and deserve to exist without judgment or ridicule.

For years, I lived under the belief that there was one correct way to be, one acceptable path, one approved identity. That belief system nearly destroyed me. It certainly delayed my ability to know myself.

Now I understand: there are as many valid ways to be human as there are humans. My way is not the only way. Your way is not wrong simply because it differs from mine. We all deserve the space to exist authentically.

Core Values: Compassion

Another key value is that of self-compassion and extending that same compassion to others. Humanity would not have survived as long as it has or become what it has without these fundamental attributes. This compassion drives us toward collaboration and cooperation and are fundamental aspects of my humanity.

That self-compassion also manifests as self-love. Not in conceit or pride, but in being comfortable in one's own skin so that love can naturally flow outward to others.

I was taught that self-love was prideful, that putting myself first was selfish, that my needs mattered less than everyone else's. This teaching produced decades of self-neglect masked as virtue.

I'm learning that I cannot pour from an empty cup. That caring for myself enables me to care for others. That self-compassion is the foundation of compassion for anyone else.

Courage in Unconventional Forms

I am a courageous being.

I may not stand fearless on the battlefield of physical war, but I fight battles that are no less important. I express emotions in a society that punishes men for doing so. I look for empirical evidence in a society that continues to wear the trappings of religion and superstition. I forge a path even when it flies in the face of everything I was raised to be.

I allow myself to define my life on my terms, not on those determined by people I didn't vote for or no longer recognize the authority of.

That last point matters. For decades, I submitted to authority I never chose: leaders I never elected (only sustained), doctrines I never examined with an ice cold eye, rules I never questioned. I was taught that submission was virtue, that questioning was pride, that autonomy was rebellion.

I no longer accept that framework.

Strength in Asking for Help

I am learning that reaching out for help is not weakness, but its own manifestation of strength. It shows trust that we are stronger together than we are apart.

I am relearning which sources of help are worthy of this trust and setting aside those that did not serve me but claimed they could.

This has been one of the hardest lessons. The institution that claimed to have all the answers had few of the ones I needed. The leaders who positioned themselves as guides led me deeper into shame. The community that promised support offered, with a few exceptions, only conditional acceptance.

I'm learning to identify actual help versus claimed help. To distinguish between support and control. To recognize when "help" comes with strings attached that make it not help at all.

Imperfect but Authentic

I may not always fully believe everything written here, but these words describe a version of myself that feels realistic to reach toward. It is not an expression of perfection but of authenticity.

Some days I doubt. Some days the old shame creeps back. Some days I wonder if I'm wrong about all of this.

But I'm done chasing perfection. The church taught me to pursue an impossible ideal, then punished me for inevitably falling short. That game is rigged. The only winning move is not to play.

I'd rather be imperfectly authentic than perfectly false.

Evidence Over Dogma

I value the ability to alter my perspective based on experience, evidence, and data rather than stick to beliefs because of dogma.

This might be the most fundamental shift in how I approach the world. I was taught that unshakable conviction was virtue, that doubt was dangerous, that modifying your beliefs meant you never really believed them.

I now see that as intellectual rigidity masquerading as faithfulness.

The willingness to change your mind when presented with new evidence is not weakness. It's integrity. It's honesty. It's the only way to approach truth rather than just clinging to comfortable lies or misinformation. The ability to change is what helps us grow in understanding. It works in science far better than it ever worked in faith.

Question Everything

I do not accept any institution or individual as infallible. All are worthy of honest inquiry, introspection, and investigation. The more authority any entity is given, the harder it should be questioned.

This is not just a tagline. It's a mandate.

For thirty-plus years, I gave an institution unquestioned authority over my life, my choices, my identity, my worth. I was taught that questioning leadership was questioning God, that criticism was apostasy, that doubt was sin.

I will never do that again. Not to any institution, any leader, any ideology. The moment something demands to be above scrutiny is the moment it has lost the right to be trusted.

Authority must be earned, not assumed. And it must be continuously justified, not permanently granted.

Political Engagement

For many years, I found myself disengaged from the political system because I felt it didn't represent me. Now I'm beginning to think that I must engage with it because who will advocate for me if I don't advocate for myself?

This is still evolving for me. For a long time, political disengagement felt like the only honest option in a system that seemed fundamentally broken. But silence is also a choice. One that cedes power to those who will use it against people like me.

I'm learning that engagement doesn't require believing the system is good, only recognizing that it affects my life whether I participate or not. That opting out doesn't protect me, it just removes my voice from the conversation.

I'm still figuring out what meaningful engagement looks like. But I know it starts with refusing to be silent. It starts with putting "pen to paper."

Moving Forward

This manifesto is not a destination. It's a snapshot of where I am right now, a stake in the ground that says "this is who I'm choosing to be today."

Tomorrow I might refine it. Next year I might revise it. That's not inconsistency. That's growth.

For too long, I was told that changing meant I was never really committed in the first place. That evolving meant I was weak. That uncertainty meant I was lost.

I no longer accept those definitions.

I am who I am, and who I am continues to unfold. That's not a bug. That's the feature of being human.