The most lovely and inspiring words I have ever heard were from a spoken word poet named Sarah Kay. If you’ve never heard this artist, then believe me you are in for a treat. Instead of spouting off facts of her birthplace, favorite color, etc., I would like to personally show you pieces of her writing. I do this because her poetry can tell you more than a biography. As a writer and as a person, she is life changing. It’s not just her words either. Her presence on a stage manages to demand your attention and, somehow, humbly shy away from it.

Sarah Kay steps onto a stage and reassures everyone that the time they spend experiencing what she has to say, is time well spent.

The first performance of hers that I had the joy of obsessing over was a TED talk. The poem was called "If I should have a daughter..." and the title is pretty self-explanatory. The line that really stuck with me at the time was the following:

“There's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away.”

Now, when I first heard this I was 14 years old so my naivety must be excused. My hopelessly romantic heart was touched. The assumption was, if you really love someone, persist. If they push you away or treat you as if they don’t love you too that’s fine. That is absolutely okay because real love will triumph in the end. Bear with me here.

After a heartbreak or two, a girl can’t help but question her own ideologies. I turned to this figure I looked up to, in question. I trusted these enchanting words; I had a strange expectation of love as a kind of predestination. Wasn’t I supposed to be found? Or rather, wasn’t I supposed to find? I was walking through my life but I had yet to stumble upon my castle with prince charming waiting inside. Thankfully, I found The Type.

This poem was my Statue of Liberty. This monumental work offered me a piece of myself. It introduced this outrageous yet liberating idea that who I am is not the sum of who men want me to be. It told me the following:

"Do not mistake yourself for a guardian.
Or a muse. Or a promise. Or a victim. Or a snack.

You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat.
You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses."

I was shaken to my core. It was the lesson every girl has heard so many times, but it hit me so hard. It was a redemptive promise that being a woman does not mean you must be synonymous. More than being a woman, being a human being. The things you enjoy and the actions you take can be yours alone, unapologetically. The poem finishes by reminding the listener:

"Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this: Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours. Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place. You are a woman who can build it yourself. You were born to build."

These lines are actually based off of Detail of the Woodsby poet Richard Siken. He says:

“Everyone needs a place; it shouldn’t be inside someone else.”

She encourages the listener move on and thrive, but not to forget the past. Isn't that the most undaunted recommendation you have ever heard? To recognize your actions as mistakes, but to stop regretting them and to begin growing from them. There was also the obvious message to stop searching for my castle with my prince. I could build the castle myself and give a damn if that true love showed up.

I go back sometimes to listen to that TED talk and I am shocked with my former self at what sticks with me now:

"She is going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air."