My name is Ava J. Camargo. I am a daughter, sister, partner, friend, student, and poet.
Seeing the words on the screen makes all of my identities somehow more concrete. Of course I knew I was all of these people already, but the words physicalized make them more pronounced, heavier. It brings about an embodiment that I seem to overlook on a daily basis. The order in which I put these words are purposeful, as is all that I do.
Thus, daughter is first for a reason. The very first purpose that I had was to be one, a daughter, and I still find that to be true. The basis of everything I do comes from this identity; it gives me the motivation to execute all that I plan to in this life. I spoke upon my relationship with my last name, one that I hold so deeply to my heart, because that shows I am, first and foremost, a daughter. As a daughter to my parents, I try to do right by them – always. My choice to continue my education after completing my bachelor’s degree was in part due to them – neither of them went to college. Everyday after my classes, I tell them at least one thing that I learned that day. They helped me get to where I am today, so I must share some of the knowledge I am gaining with them, as they never got the chance to learn what I am currently learning on their own.
I am a sister. This, of course, comes to a close second to daughter. As the youngest of three, people, upon first meeting me, may believe me to be selfish, spoiled, spoon-fed. Though, upon further examination of my character, will find that I am the complete opposite (I do not want this to be interpreted as me describing myself to be the best person on the planet – I am not). Though, I think the experiences I share with my siblings are what make me, me. My brother, Marco, is autistic, and my sister, Mia, is a free-spirit. Marco likes to keep all of his things in a neat, specific order. Mia does not know where her car keys are. I am somewhere in the middle.
I am a partner. As someone who is not afraid to admit that I am still learning all there is to know about loving someone, I find that I will always be in student-mode when it comes to love. Two summers ago, I read The Magical Year of Thinking by Joan Didion, in which she describes the death of her husband and the grief that followed. I remember reading a section in which she describes her husband to also be her editor – he read everything she wrote and gave her notes, and she read everything he wrote and gave him notes. Years after reading that and letting it ruminate in the back of my head, I finally allowed my partner to read my poetry (he had also been bugging me about it for a long time). I am happy I did. I plan to do it more. This to me, is love – spilling parts of your being that you, at first, opted to keep for yourself, but upon meeting that certain someone, find that you never wanted to keep it hidden away, but that you were waiting for the right person to share it all with. Bare it all.
I am friend. This one I need serious guidance with. To put this quite plainly, I have very few friends. I have plenty of acquaintances, but my number of friends remains small. I am not sure how this came to be. I do not rue this part of myself that for some reason cannot make friends very easily, but I want to exercise this muscle within me that seems to be very, very weak. I hope that this class specifically will make my friend muscles buff.
I am a student. This one is quite obvious, and holds the bronze medal in length, standing on the lowest tier on the podium next to sister (silver) and daughter (gold). I was three years old when I first became a student (a dance student, nonetheless), and have stayed in the realm of student for 18 years and counting. And I love it. Staying with the topic of dance, one instructor addressed a modern dance class I attended by stating, “Remember how lucky you are to be here, in this dance studio. There are so many kids that would kill to be where you are. Embrace it”. Though I do not attend dance classes anymore, I find myself in remembrance of that day in classes that have nothing to do with dance, because this statement is universal. I am so very lucky to be able to learn so much in my lifetime, and I do not plan on stopping anytime soon. Learning is a blessing.
Lastly, I am a poet. Teachers and friends that know me well may be surprised to learn that I listed poet last. I was surprised too! Navigating my identity as a poet has not been easy, so in spite of that, it appears last in this post. Poet is a fairly new identity I am exploring, as I did not get serious about it until last fall. Poetry does not come easy for me, and I do not think it ever will. As I write this, I sort of feel bad that I am punishing that part of myself and banishing it to the bottom of this post because it is hard, but it will have to do for now. I am not sure why accepting this part of myself comes with great difficulty, but I continue to push through these treacherous waters. Writing it is simply fine – I write what comes to mind and that’s that (unless I am held to a deadline, then every poetic thought becomes fleeting). It is sharing it with others, the words that come from my brain, that freaks me out. Reading my poetry aloud in front of people, to me, is synonymous with being naked. Better yet, I equate it to being cut open, from the very top of my neck all the way down my torso, and everyone peeking at my organs (those of which I have not even seen myself!). Though, I am prepared to fight this lifelong battle. I understand that I may not reach a level of mastery, but at least I will be able to live hand-in-hand with Poet Ava.
Thus, that is all of me, or possibly just the surface (as I just made you all picture my organs!). I hope to become more: a beaming light that shines through perilous times, for others and for myself. That has quite a nice, optimistic ring to it, so I will stick with it for the time being.
