To those curious enough to continue, 

If I had to describe myself in one word, to someone of which I had never met nor spoken to, I would tell them that I am an artist. The word artist is a fickle one, it can mean a dancer, and actor, a singer, a photographer, all the above (which I am) or none of the latter. Usually, people associate artist with the black beret, the black turtleneck sweater, bell bottom jeans paired with enormous sunglasses and a sketchbook. Eccentric to say the least, crazy hair and paint everywhere. Not to mention down to earth, out to save the planet, vegetarian, all the good high school musical stuff. To put it in perspective, that isn’t far from how I actually am. 

Now to someone who has seen me, they would not associate this trope with how I look or act, but that is in fact accurate. I am very down to earth, and I haven’t had any meat in months, which is remarkable due to the fact of my deep southern origins, with baby back ribs and diabetes running through my blood. (I like to see myself as someone who both breaks and embraces stereotypes.) As far as my way of dress, that’s a different story. I dress how I feel, and I feel what I wear. One day I could be sporting that typical artist attire, the next day business formal, and on the following the classic skater girl get up. I love to express myself through both my art, and through my dress, so I can show the world who I am on the inside, while also allowing them to see how I carry myself on the outside. In addition, I am a strong believer in individuality, and I feel that everyone should be able to dress how they want and be whoever they want to be, if they are not harming someone else in the process. Judgement is not something that we should have to give to everyone, especially if we are not able to cast it on ourselves unbiasedly. 

My ultimate goal in life is to make the world a better place. To help those in need, and to assist those who are already trying to better their lives. However, this can sometimes be troubling, on behalf of my personality type. I fall more into the Type A personality category. Competitive, aggressive, impatient, all the good things. Those who know me one a more personal level than just a meet and greet would describe me as overbearing, highly critical, aggressive, and a bit of a loner. Yes, I can be aggressive, when I am passionate about something. I am overbearing when I’m worried, I fear that if I do not step in when I can, that something terrible will happen that I could have helped prevent. I don’t like to be by my lonesome, I honestly feel that no one wants to be. Yet, I feel we also need the silence. We tend to over analyze when surrounded by people to long, drown in our own sense of isolation, so I sometimes find myself alone. In a world of injustices, poverty, abuse, turmoil, I must spend time by myself to recharge. For me to be able to help others, I must be able to take time for myself, so I can in turn be strong for them. 

While my defensive personality serves as a mechanism to protect myself while I look out for other people, it can still be a bit off putting. I have the tendency to continue to push away the same people I am trying to protect, even though I never want to truly be alone. I realized this at a young age, when I often sought the approval and attention from my middle school peers, yet never associated with them once I had managed to assimilate myself into the secondary school’s form of hierarchy. It is an oxymoronic lifestyle that I live, yes; but I am learning to analyze my actions before I act, pushing past my initial reaction and responding more positively to those around me. This, my act creating of a friendlier space with every person I meet, enables them in turn to be open with me. Once we can truly open up to someone, we can be honest with not only others, but with ourselves as well.  

If I had to explain myself to someone who has just finished reading this letter, I would describe myself as a poet. Besides helping others, I am most passionate about poetry. Poetry has been my life since the second grade, where I was kicked out of class for speaking to much, in a room of silence where no one wanted to participate. I was sent to the third-grade class down the hall, and it was there where I learned of haikus. A simple formula, for something so artistic, replicated millions of times, yet never the same. With so much room to play, so much room for creativity, it was astonishing that what made the process so invigorating was having to follow the rules. To make a haiku, there are two rules. The first, there can only be three lines. The second rule, each line has a set number of syllables. Five in the first, seven in the second, and five in the last. At a young age I couldn’t fathom why these rules didn’t feel like constrains and more like guidelines for my pen. Now, twelve years later, I finally understand. Everyone, no matter the race, the creed, their language, their origin, their history, had to follow these two rules, in order to produce the same result with a different face, a concept of which, is beautiful to me. A whole world of people had to abide by these requirements in order to achieve the completion of this particular poem. When I finally returned to class, I couldn’t help but to feel like one, a haiku. I wanted to be a one, a piece of algorithmic art, something so convoluted, yet could help the whole world get along. 

Unconditionally, 

Jhanaiya Smith-Butler 

Game Changer, Risk Taker, World Shaker