Finding My Voice (Even When I’d Rather Hide Behind the Camera)

If you’ve ever met me in person, you’d probably notice one thing pretty quickly—I’m not someone who naturally gravitates toward the spotlight. Ironically, being a Leo ā™Œļø, I’ve never loved being alone in videos or photos, I don’t enjoy posing, and I’ve spent most of my life quietly avoiding being the center of attention. 

I’ve always preferred being behind the scenes—writing, creating, thinking. Words on a page have always felt safer than words spoken out loud. There’s something comforting about expressing yourself without a room full of eyes watching you.

But then… I became an author and suddenly, everything shifted. With my published book in hand, I found myself stepping into situations I had spent years steering clear of such as posing for photos with my book, smiling for the camera when all I wanted to do was laugh awkwardly and step aside šŸ˜…, and sitting in front of groups—children and adults—reading my story out loud into a microphone at a large, public park. All the things that once felt uncomfortable… became necessary.

My first real moment of ā€œthere’s no turning back nowā€ came at the Little BIPOC Book Festival in mid-March. It was exciting, meaningful, and honestly—terrifying all at once. 😁 There I was, surrounded by people, energy, and creativity. Instead of blending into the background, I was part of it – fully visible.

I remember holding my book, feeling both proud and slightly out of place at the same time. Smiling for photos, even though it didn’t feel natural. Reading aloud, even though my voice felt unfamiliar through a microphone. Looking out at a park full of faces, even though my instinct was to look down at the pages.

But something unexpected happened. The more I leaned into those uncomfortable moments, the more I realized—they weren’t about me. Instead, they were about connection, about the children listening with wide eyes and parents smiling along, and the quiet moments when someone walked up after and said, ā€œThat was beautiful.ā€

In those moments, it didn’t matter that I wasn’t a ā€œphoto person,ā€ or I wasn’t naturally outgoing, or that I felt shy and out of place. What mattered most was the story and the impact it was making – about kindness and friendship. 

I’ve learned that sometimes, growth doesn’t look like confidence right away. Sometimes, it looks like showing up anyway. It looks like taking the photo even when you’d rather not, speaking into the microphone even when you feel a little anxious, and reading your words out loud, even when your voice feels shaky and unsure. Because on the other side of that discomfort… is something bigger than you.

I’m still not someone who loves being in front of the camera. I still feel a little nervous before I speak.  And I still have moments where I wish I could just quietly stay in my comfort zone.

But I also know this:

If my story can bring joy, connection, or even a small moment of happiness to someone else… then stepping into the spotlight—even briefly—is 110% worth it.

So here I am. Still a little shy, still a little hesitant, but showing up anyway.

Maybe… that’s exactly where I’m meant to be. šŸ©·šŸ™ŒšŸ¼

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