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My name is Tie'sha Sadie, but
you may call me Tie. I am a
multi-disciplinary creative
currently raging and roaring
in the experience-o-sphere
that is New York.


Design. LGBTQI. Art. Magic.
Self-Care. Community. Soul.
Melanin. Philanthropy. Love.
Advocacy. Self-Care. Light.
Intimacy. Healing. Vision.
No Holds Barred.

A Question of Authenticity
31.5.12 at 23:17.


To walk into a room full of strangers and be unable to tell any one entity from another is plaguing to my psyche.  I realize that following trends is becoming a staple of the human condition and that the notion of  'standing out' is scary to the many.   The need of an individual to be a part of something 'cool' is understandable considering the amount of bullshit that those of us who choose to cling to the little bit of individuality that we dare to exhibit, have to deal with.  ( <<< that was an outlandish sentence).  It is 'safer' to jump on the bandwagon and be what interests society and I don't knock anybody who chooses the road often taken.  We each cope with existence in a way that is consistent with our beliefs and aspirations; no two people are the same therefore no one has the right to tell another that their path is wrong.

Now, that I have gotten the political out of the way, allow me to tell a quick tale.  I attended a party thrown by one of my clients in the LES a week or so ago.  Upon arrival, I was greeted by my client and introduced to his rather adorable circle of friends (not acquaintances, I'm talking 'we grew up on the same block and shared Happy Meals' kind of friends).  The closely knit group evoked such a feeling of peace within me and I spent the large part of the evening, just sitting and listening to their conversations/memories/ and inside jokes.  It was the epitome of love, basically.  As the night, went on, the men dissipated and I was left at the table with the only female in the group.  She was drop dead gorgeous!!!  Her dimples were like lapping pools and her skin was the most delectable shade, a chocolate-dipped goddess who smelled of what can only be described as...an autumn evening in Paris.  She and I, only spoke briefly before she excused herself and went to mingle with the other party-goers.  As I donned my mingling hat and prowled the dance floor, the night raged on.  I would occassionally run into her in passing, absentmindedly observing her interactions with others.  The woman that she was around others was...different.  She was conceited/rude/loud//flamboyant ...she was a quite a character.  As the night and the dawn began to merge, I sought out my client to bid him adieu and thank him for the invite.  I found him outside, once again surrounded by his circle.  I said my goodbyes and began my trek to the train station.  A block or so along, a tap upon my shoulder provoked me to turn.  There she was, smiling that dynamite smile of hers and stroking my forearm.  She asked if she could see me again and I, being the blunt asshole that I am, told her that I didn't think so.  I told her that I had witnessed her behavior and my vagina literally refused to show any interest.  She told me that was just her persona, a face that she put on that was expected of her as a social figure (fun fact: she's a model).  She said that I would love her if I got to know her personality.  

Here my lovies, is where my rant begins....

It is true that I often speak of 'originality' in the past tense; this is is not because I believe that there is no originality left in the world.  
This is how it works:
a) an entity that is sincerely unique displays their uniqueness in a public forum (ie. a social network)
b) others view the entity's 'weird' attire, and thinks that it would be awesome to be that unique so they start to reshape the wardrobe to mirror
c) the unique entity is no longer unique because now there are hundreds of him/her; each wearing the same things, going to the same events, and partaking in the same activities
d) rinse and repeat

How any logical being expect to be loved or appreciated for who they truly are if no one gets to see who they truly are?   It's such a simple question but the answers that I receive are always so complex.  There's always some shit in there about what people expect or what gets them more traffic.  This is not simply a factor in person-to-person interaction it is epidemic within the inter-verse; people who could give a shit-less about fashion creating style blogs and kind-hearted individuals pretending to be opinionated assholes.  

Why must your persona and your personality exist in separate realms.  Why can't the person who you are with friends be the same person who you are with co-workers?  On a deeper note, how can you expect to achieve inner peace and/or piece of mind if you have consciously keep track of what you can and cannot say around certain people?  You are making the decision to live half a life and I question to what end.  If you seek popularity then carry on but if you seek understanding, you are so royally fucked.  You can not, I repeat CAN NOT feel some sort of way, if no one wants to spend their time trying to decipher through the cryptic layers of your being.  not only is it selfish of you, it puts question to your morals.  Do you not believe that you should do onto others as you wish them to do onto you?  As an experiment, I would love to take all of the dual-personas I have ever met, put them in a room together, and observe their interactions.  There are very few things that grind my fuckin' gears more than someone who is consciously fake and then has the nerve to lash out with the whole 'nobody really knows me' sob story.  Come on, son.  The tragedy of this is amplified when the subjects of this lack of authenticity are public figures who have youths and wayward souls looking up to them.  It's the perpetuation of a cycle; a downward fucking spiral of a  society full of clones.

Persona vs. Personality,

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