So you've lost your sparkle?

Recently, someone at work asked me what was wrong. Not aware that anything was wrong, I asked what they meant to which they replied, "you've lost your sparkle." This was a difficult thing to hear in multiple ways. Firstly, I had no idea I'd been my lacking my sparkle! Secondly, someone has noticed I no longer have my sparkle! I am no longer special! I had to really have a hard think with myself, what even is my sparkle? Is my sparkle really me? And what does it mean if I've lost it, if I've lost me?

We all switch it on for work, but in the industry I work in I find this particularly pertinent. My job is people facing and in an entry-level role, I find that my work prioritises that personable experience more than being actually good at my job. Lucky for me, I love speaking to strangers and embrace awkward interactions so I haven't had much trouble with this. However, when your career becomes based on how much you excel in social situations, and you are at work all the time, your personality becomes entrenched in work. As work Bella and real-person Bella become combined, separating the two feels impossible. And so, when I was collecting my coffees that morning and the well meaning barista told me I'd lost my sparkle, that felt equivalent to being told I was awful at my job. I became extremely self critical and aware of all of my social interactions- was I smiling enough? Was I making enough eye contact? I could've done better in that one...

Its actually physically exhausting having to be sparkly every day. I'm sure those working in retail and hospitality feel it even deeper than I. Plastering on an artificial self and sucking out all of your energy for this transaction, only to come home and feel like an utter shell, unable to give that energy to people you really care about. Capitalism's insidious nature finds us trading our labour for credit and in this case, that labour is social. Being a "people's person," having the "gift of the gab," are all seen as employable features, when really, I should be able to turn up to my job and not have to smile at anyone, not have to have meaningless small talk, be able to just walk in, do my job to a high standard and then leave. This also leads me to wonder if this quality is gendered. Women are all to familiar with men asking them to smile, and this seems like an extension of this. While my male coworkers can get away with turning up late, being grumpy, lazy oafs and general layabouts, I feel there is an expectation amongst women in my line of work that we put on a bit of a show. The industry I am in is historically male, it is only in the last few decades that women have entered the work force. Despite the progression in this area, women are still pigeonholed into typically "caring" roles in the workplace, roles in which they can still turn up looking pretty and graceful. Contrary to that, my job is rather technical and physical- I can't wear nice clothes since my knees always get dusty and I don't wear makeup to work because I'm sweaty all the time. These things are fine, I don't mind them. I enjoy my job and I like working with my hands. However, I do feel like the department I've chosen to enter has stripped me of my femininity. I almost want to stop people at work and let them know- "I don't actually dress like this! I am actually a very feminine person, I love dressing up and dancing and I moisturise every day!" Even the language I've taken up has become more masculine- never in my life have I been inclined to use the word "mate" until starting this job. So, I've traded both my social skills and my gender for my job, what else?

I am one out of three people of colour that I interact with in my workplace day to day. That's three out of about 40-50 people. Two of these three people are in entry-level roles. I often feel extremely conscious of my race at work. Every banter-filled interaction or small comment I wince in fear that one of my white co-workers could come out with something racist. Its strange that I'm the one who feels awkward in those scenarios. As though I should be apologising for the fact of my blackness. "Oops, sorry! I don't want my race to make you uncomfortable. Go ahead, make that joke! I won't bat an eye!" A close friend of mine told me that she overheard a group of men discussing the recent election results. One of them said "its because of how the blacks are voting!" Its almost laughable, the use of such an archaic term. My friend told me this story and I then spoke about how hurtful it was to hear. I wasn't angry with her, but I wish she hadn't told me if she hadn't said anything. I reminded her that it is the role of allies to speak up on behalf of the three people of colour at work. We can't be covering all of our bases all of the time! There is a quote in the book I'm reading at the moment, Afropean by Johny Pitts. Johny says:

When I reminded my friend of this she became defensive, saying that the comment was so quick that she didn't even have time to process what she'd say in reply. Its okay, I don't blame her. To be honest, I've been in the exact situation. I've overhead blatantly racist things and have chosen myself not to say anything, whether I was too taken aback or just couldn't be bothered to put up the uncomfortable fight. If I can't even be an ally to myself, why do I expect my white friends to do it for me? Its not my responsibility to educate white people on their racism, but why do I need a white person (who probably would not do the argument justice) to do it for me?

So my work has taken away my social skills, my gender and my race. What do I have left? My sparkle? My sparkle is all of these things combined neatly into a little presentable package that I refine and shape for the people I interact with, day in and day out. Its their sparkle more than mine. I have indeed felt that sparkle fading, and I am coming to terms with the fact that it wanes. We are all people outside of our labour, but that becomes hard to remember when that labour consumes us so intensely. I find comfort in being able to come home and shed the sparkle. I go to the bathroom, take my daily poop, get into my pyjamas and slap on my bonnet. I make a cup of tea, probably won't eat dinner. Maybe I'll do some mindless scrolling, maybe I'll muster the courage to watch an episode or a movie, if I dare. I'll brush my teeth and set my alarm. I'll wrap the covers around my feet just how I like it and cuddle my stuffed monkey called Cashew. This is my favourite part of the day, as it is the most me. The most me I'll probably feel all week.