Pola Chérie@photo by Natsuki Fujii
This is very personal post. For people who knows me in person and my dearest long-time-readers my following words can be found shocking but I thought it is high time to open up and tell you what I am doing and trying to do in this life I have been given to live.
This is my blog. You can read my poems and thoughts here but thats only a very tiny part of my works. I am doing my best to finish my projects and I am waiting for a good moment to have it published.
I treat my blog as my notebook. I put here everything I feel is inspirational and I want to share with my readers. But recently my blog gained so many drafts and nothing have been published. Empty days. Huge promises, blank pages. And no words under the dates of months. I started to be afraid to share my words with people to not be abandoned from sociality again. My old fears made me unable to write.
It all made me re-think what is most important for me and what 'writing' means to me.
Is it a passion? Is it a hobby? Am I going to stop when I finish my studies, get hired, start working? But is there any other job for me if not using words?
I never compete with anyone. I hate to compete. I was always walking my own paths and letting people pass me near if they wanted to run. Because I knew we were heading to different goals.
I remember when exactly I start writing. I was six years old, my first year in school. Wadowice. Small city in southern Poland. Seven years after Poland became a free country. First years when foreigners could live here, but no one really did yet.
Except my mother who decided to marry my father and move out from Japan. She still doesn't see anything special about that. It makes me smile everytime I think of it.
I had been suffering from racial discrimination for ten years when I was a child. On the streets, at school. Small asian girl with funny name in the middle of small city of post-communist country.
Firstly too shocked, I didnt know how to react. And for the rest ten years I had no idea what I can do to protect myself.
Being alone I wrote a letter. On small yellow cards with teddy bears illustrations. And I hide it deep in the black space under my bed. I didn't want to hurt my mother by telling her about it.
I guess if someone around at that time said something or did something to help me out my life would be completely different now.
Not reacting is the worst thing you can do when someone is offended by others.
Ten years passed without any word spoken. I kept writing. To Live. To Survive. I run away into my own, imaginary world. World where truth and goodness always wins. This was the beginning of my writing.
Ten years passed and after very troubled teenage years I finally found my own way.
I promised myself I Will React. Always. When I see that the one's soul is in danger.
And that I will fight. For equality and human rights. For children who are suffering from discrimination because of racial, religious or sexual reasons. I fight for every single human being which is hurt by others because of who they are. For no reason. Because of people who are narrow-minded or too blind to see the truth.
I am just a girl - with no power and no money to give.
But I have a words to share.
I want you To React. Whenever you see someone is being harassed just because they are trying to live being themselves.
You can save a life.
You can save someone from pain.
Save someone, someone just like me, from Immortal Illness of Soul.
Be different.
React.
This is my message.
And I keep writing.
Pola Chérie, 24.07.2011 Tokyo
~Dedicated to all my lovely readers, friends and to C. who gave me Strength, to deal with the past, and Hope for the new future, you are my gift!~
