Who is a climber? How many pitches? How many years? How much gear? How many grades? How many falls?
Who is a mountaineer? How many courses? How many skills? How make summits? How many knots? How many photos?
Who is an advocate? How many posts? How much education? How many conversations? How many committees? How many initiatives? How many followers?
Who is feminine? How much make up? How attractive? How many dresses? How much pink and purple? How much harassment?
Who is a scientist? How many degrees? How many projects? How many publications? How many mentees? How many grants? How many accolades?
Who is American? How many generations? How many relatives? How many citizenships? How many languages?
Who is Mexican? Again— How many relatives? How many generation? How many citizenships? How many languages?
These are the identities I get challenged on by gatekeepers in the predominantly white spaces I am a part of. I work painfully hard to feel like I’m enough. It has made me hold myself to incredibly high standards. I’ve accomplished a lot and keep showing up because of the strength, wisdom, and opportunity that’s been passed down to me. I have privilege and I have energy. But it shouldn’t take this much privilege and energy just to show up and feel like I’m enough. Perfectionism is a response to trauma, and I’m working on healing.