The decision to rebrand is one that is long overdue, but because of my life time partners – procrastination and fear – I have been putting it off.

Will people still like me? Will they keep reading my stories and essays? Will they clap after reading my work on medium, or after hearing me at an open mic? These questions keep me up at night, and I kid you not. They have eaten deep into my mind and nursed my fear, and made it grow – to the point where it stands tall, taller than me.

I am 5'10. Imagine my fear being fed till it got to 6'6, I cower at the sight of that tall beast. Not my most authentic expression, but it is what it is. I get afraid, it eats deep, and I become afraid of my fear.

This essay has no moral lesson, or maybe it does. You get to be the judge of that by the end.

Back to the beginning, about rebranding.

I have always been a quiet person, not because I don't have anything to say. Far from it, I always have things to say. They just get stuck in my mouth as I try to let them out.

The child I was never had the opportunity to speak her mind, and for some reason, that child is still somewhere deep down holding my tongue from speaking when I want to.

My name is Joy. My name is Joy.

I have to remind myself of this statement at least twice a week, I don't want to be Joy. Joy doesn't speak up for herself, Joy cries instead of saying word for word how it happened, Joy has panic attacks thinking about how it could have gone if only she spoke up.

I am Sekhani, not Joy.

I have to remind myself of this statement whenever somebody says something that hurts me, so I can speak up. Joy would never do that, but Sekhani will.

Your name is Joy, not Sekhani.

My fear whispered, as I tried to fight off the 'big sister' who sexually abused me as a child and said not to tell anyone. Don't tell your mommy or your daddy, pray to God for forgiveness. She came back and kept coming back, I lost count. Whenever she stood up to leave, I knew her next words. They were stuck in my head, I didn't have to hear her to know what she said. Don't tell your mommy or your daddy, pray to God for forgiveness. 

I am Sekhani, not Joy.

I told the one that tried to get in my pants forcefully. I fought, and tried to be strong. I couldn't stay strong for long though, because Joy is the one who has always been there. Sekhani is a new being, learning the ropes in Joy's body.

I don't want to be Joy, I cried as he got off me.

You are too weak to be Sekhani, my fear said. I got home, cussed and cursed, as I scrubbed him off me but Joy didn't succor me. She is weak, Sekhani is not. I didn't cry, still haven't cried. I may never cry over that dreadful night, I can't say just yet.

Talking is not my strong forte. Both for Joy and Sekhani, but Joy would rather die in silence than speak up. This is why I love Sekhani, always speaking up even when her tongue pretends to be tied in her mouth, which is just Joy saying, don't speak, you're ruining the rep. You're new to this body, that's not how it works here.

I made a mistake, letting Joy have a conversation with a potential client. She is too afraid, too scared – almost a people pleaser. Sekhani would never undercharge a client, she lets them know what she brings to the table.

Joy is scared of her own abilities, this fear from when she was a child grew and stayed in her adult body. Sekhani is new, learning the ropes of Joy's body. 

Joy, who is afraid of her own abilities, doesn't let Sekhani speak up. What will they say? I am not known for this. She tells Sekhani.

Why do you care about what they'll say?

Shh. Someone might hear you, don't let them hear you. We are not known for this.

Maybe you're not, but I am. Take my hand when you're afraid, or when you need to speak.