1: Know Yourself We fear our full selves. We are afraid of who we are, in all our glory (and grit). We''re constantly "searching" for that person. Or forgetting that person. Or repressing that person. Instead of standing strong in who that person is. Being FULLY ourselves is necessary for us because it serves as a grounding force. I find that it''s the case for me.

There is a lot to be afraid of in this world, because in general, things can be a wreck out there. And none of us needs to be afraid of who we are in our whole personhood, because who has the time? This standing in your full self isn''t about being an immovable person, whose beliefs are stuck in a rock. It''s not that can''t nobody tell you shit, or you not being able to admit when you''re wrong. Instead, it''s about having a strong sense of identity. It''s about knowing you belong in this world just as much as anyone else. It''s about taking up the space you earned simply by being born. One of my favorite poems is the Desiderata, written by Max Ehrmann. My favorite part is: "You are a child of the universe / no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here /And whether or not it is clear to you / no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

" "YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO BE HERE." You sure in the hell do. Oddly enough, knowing this fullness of who you are doesn''t make you more stubborn. Instead, it makes you more likely to grow, since you know you have a solid foundation that doesn''t change even as you''ve learned new things and new perspectives. This is a step you need to be a professional troublemaker. Because you will GET IN TROUBLE. Guaranteed. What makes you realize it''s worth it? This process of knowing the fullness of who you are.

A lot of fear fighting and professional troublemaking is confronting things that will knock us off our square. Things that will slap us into dizziness and make us forget everything we know is real. We need solid feet, rooted in something strong to continue to stand. Knowing ourselves is important because it provides that foundation for us. It doesn''t allow anyone or anything to tell us who we are. Because when people tell us how amazing we are, that''s good to absorb. But what about when someone tells us we aren''t worthy? Or we don''t have value? Or we don''t deserve kindness and love? Or that we deserve papercuts? To know thyself is to not take all the praise to head or take all the shaming to heart. To know thyself is to know your core, and for me, to know your core is to feel rooted in something outside of myself.

It is to know, not only who I am but whose I am. Whose We Are Whose I am is not about belonging to someone or being beholden to people. It is about the community you are tied to that holds you accountable. It is about knowing you are part of a tribe that is greater than yourself. It is about feeling deeply connected to someone, and that no matter where you go, you have a base. If we''re phones, knowing whose we are is our charging station. I learned the importance of WHOSE you are growing up. As a Yoruba girl, I am a part of a tribe that prioritizes your people sometimes as much as it prioritizes an individual.

Collectivism comes alive for us through the traditional ORÍKÌ (oh-ree-kee). What''s an ORIKI? It is a Yoruba word that combines two words to mean "praising your head/mind." Ori is "head" and Ki is "to greet or praise." An Oriki is a greeting that praises you through praising your kinship and speaking life to your destiny. It is your personal hype mantra, and can be spoken or sung. The original attempts to tell you who you are make up your oriki. It''s used to remind you of your roots and your history. It might include the city your father''s from, and where his father is from.

It might include the things that make your family name special. It brags on your people. It lets people know who you WERE, who you ARE, who you WILL BE. It reminds you of those who came before you and blesses those who will come after. It might even include some shade. Orikis are often sung at your birthday or celebrations. They also sing them to see you off to the next life. An oriki connects you to your ancestors, and it will move even the most stoic to cry because you feel it in your chest.

Your tear ducts just give up the ghost and let the water go. I am the granddaughter of a woman named Olufunmilayo Juliana Faloyin[1], and she''s the one who serves as my compass. When Grandma would say her name, she''d always say it with a smile. Which makes sense, because her name literally means "God gave me joy." It was like her very self and presence brought her joy. When they sang my grandmother''s oriki at her funeral, I got emotional because it was a poetic affirmation of her presence on this earth and a send off. It was a standing ovation for her spirit. This is part of my Grandma''s oriki: m Ògbóni Modù lorè, mr ní àkún.

m Fulani Ùjà a múni má parò oko ni. m a fi f a ki m lomiran fi eeru f ti . m arúgbìnrin owó bdìd What it loosely means (because there are some Yoruba words that don''t exist in English) is: The child of the Ìjà Fulani who acquires one without killing the birds in one''s farm. The child who brings out soap to wash his/her own clothes while someone else''s child brings out ashes to wash his/hers. The child that springs up money (wealth) in multiples. It ties her back to those who came before her and gasses her up. * I don''t know my oriki. Many of us don''t.

Like a lot of traditions, orikis have been de-prioritized as generations pass. I''m out here oriki-less AF. But it''s okay. I''m fine, really. I''m not mad at all that by the time I came along, folks were more blasé about it (clearly I''m lowkey salty but I''ll deal with that with my therapist). However, a lot of what we already do are derivatives of orikis and we don''t even realize it. The tradition of the ORIKI isn''t just in Yorubaland; it''s gone on through the diaspora. You can see it in the way people rap about themselves.

It''s in the way people praise God. It''s in the way we say who we are in the moments we feel most proud. When Christians praise God, we say: King of kings. Lord of Lords. Alpha and Omega. The beginning and the end. The I am. The Waymaker.

That''s an oriki if I ever heard one. When we think about how people are introduced in something as made up as the TV show Game of Thrones , it tracks. "Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen. First of Her Name. The Unburnt. Queen of the Andals and the First Men. Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Breaker of Chains.

Mother of Dragons." THAT IS SUCH AN ORIKI! Didn''t you feel gassed up on her behalf anytime they introduced her? I know I did. That''s what it is for! I tend to write ones for people I admire to gas them up as I please. I''ve done a few in the past. For Michelle Obama: Michelle LaVaughn of House Obama. First of her name. Dame of Dignity. Melanin Magnificence.

Chic Chicagoan. Boss Lady of Brilliance. Owner of the Arms of Your Envy. Forever First Lady. For President Barack Obama: Barack Hussein of House Obama. Second of his name. Swagnificence in the West Wing. He Who Speaks in Complete Sentences.

Shea Butter Skinned Leader of the World. Michelle''s boo. 44 of Life. For Beyoncé: Beyoncé Giselle of House Knowles. First of her name. Snatcher of Edges. Killer of Stages. Citizen of Creole Wonderland.

For Oprah: Oprah Gail of House Winfrey. First of her name. First of her name. Change of the world. Protector of the Realm of Noirpublic. Creator of Paths. Breaker of Chains and Limits. For Toni Morrison: Toni of House Morrison.

First of Her Name. Architect of Words. Acclaimed Author. Shifter of Culture. Netter of Nobel Prize. Writing Domino. Legendary Laureate. For Aretha Franklin: Aretha Louise of House Franklin.

First of Her Name. Dame of Detroit. Empress of Elevated Sound. Reverberation Royalty. Vocal Victor. Sovereign of Soul. Aural Authority. For Janelle Monae: Janelle of House Monae.

First of her name. Citizen of the Future. Walker of Tight Ropes. Sprinkler of #NoirPixieDust. Rocker of the Baddest Suits. Giver of No Intergalactic Fucks. Head Android of Wondaland. For Issa Rae: Issa Rae of House Diop.

First of her name. Slayer of Content. Opener of Doors. Creator of Best Life. Producer of Dreams. For Yara Shahidi: Yara of House Shahidi. First of her name. Builder of Generational Bridges.

Teller of Truths. Thoughtful Activist. So, how do you write a simple Game of Thrones style original for yourself? Here''s the formula, and how I come up with the intros. First Name and Middle Name of House Last Name . Number of Her/His/Their Name. That''s the easy part. The next part, throw humility away. The point of this is to give yourself all the credit.

I want you to acknowledge the thi.