The
#TruthWarrior
Podcast
Ep 128:
On Creativity and Trauma
Description:
Artistic legitimacy is born out of suffering. How often do we hear this cultural message? How often do we see stories, videos, and tales romanticizing trauma, addiction, and mental health struggles and portraying them as sources of creativity? We don’t even realize how dangerous this rhetoric is because it’s so commonplace. And, often remaining unaware, we re-transmit it to others. Believing that trauma fuels creativity and brings forth our best talents reflects a gross misunderstanding of trauma, most often – as a consequence of having never really experienced it. This belief correlates with a privileged life experience in which trauma is misconceptualized and trivialized as frustration, stress, and disappointment. Talking about “spiritual enlightenment” in the context of trauma becomes a form of spiritual bypass. A way to avoid critical awareness. A way to deny structural barriers and systemic oppression that lead to the enormous waste of creative talent around the world. A way to never practice empathy towards people who never had the same opportunities, freedoms, and rights as you’ve had for no fault of their own. Living my entire life under multiple, intersecting layers of trauma, and being clear about my story throughout the networking efforts for my book, I cannot tell you how many times I heard this BS rhetoric about my trauma being “the source of my amazing creative talent” – invariably from the mouths of upper-middle-class, predominantly white Americans. Every time, they employed this rhetoric to make themselves comfortable with denying me help and support that they had the power to extend through their privilege – because, whether I liked it or not, my story effectively exposed the unearned nature of their privilege and called bullshit on the fairy tale of meritocracy, which they had their self-worth entirely built upon.
Join me in this conversation to explore how creativity, vulnerability, and trauma are contextually related. In this video, I share my journey as an artist coming from a place of intersectional disadvantage, which is not very obvious because of my Whiteness, masculinity, cisness, and a university degree. For the majority of my life, my talent has been stifled by multiple layers of trauma. My creativity has been handicapped by multiple layers of oppression. At the same time, I got effectively brainwashed – by the culture, by the church, and, most recently, by privileged American people – into the belief that my trauma happens for some good reason and in fact nourishes my creativity. One of the most important messages I want to leave to the world is that that is a toxic, barefaced lie. The only reason behind that rhetoric was for people in my journey to keep their power and privilege to themselves and deny me the opportunity they could share. The same dynamic is clearly observable in the larger culture. Comfort gets chosen over truth, and bullshit gets employed as a nice, bleached-smile way to keep oppressing those already at huge disadvantage.
I don’t have tons of money for advertising budgets and consequently don’t get millions of views and followers – but if you followed my journey from the beginning and saw my content unfold over the years, you know that it’s not because I ever lacked talent or saved effort, but because effective promotion on social media these days mostly depends on privilege (and people who have it ferociously deny it).
What I do have, though, is a heavy heart. It's heavy because it's full of truth.
And since creativity is the love of my life – the one that oppression has for years blocked me from being with – I have to tell the truth about Her. I have to say that trauma is Her abuser, not Her loving partner or parent. I have to call BS on creative martyrdom and the arguments of privileged people who romanticize trauma and mental health issues. I have to expose how this rhetoric normalizes systemic injustice and the enormous waste of creative talent globally. I’m clear about this: as artists, our job is not to be bullshit-tellers. Our job is to be truth-tellers. Yes, even our truth makes the world uncomfortable. In fact, that’s where our art can make the biggest and the most needed difference.
The referenced story of Hollywood talent agent: https://jorgeoros.com/metoo
Dear listener! 🙂🙌
At the moment, this podcast recording is only available as the audio version of my original YouTube video. As I don't have access to a dedicated studio and professional recording equipment, it's exceedingly possible that you will hear some noise in the background as you listen. As a recovering perfectionist and huge people-pleaser in the past, these things at times bother me perhaps even more than they bother you, and I shall be transparent with you around this.
Compromised sound quality was the cost I had to pay for filming my talks in the space that more or less resembled the setting of a middle-class Western life — the privileged setting in which, actually, I've never found myself throughout my life. The setting which, nevertheless, was required by the conventions of the YouTube genre. My Instagram and prospective YouTube audience — mostly Western, mostly white, mostly middle-class — would hardly want to see my talks, no matter the quality of my ideas, filmed in my POS car amidst Russian winter. My deficit of privilege, and the sound quality compromise I had to accept as a consequence, didn't mean I wasn't taking my content production seriously enough. As you watch, or listen to, my talks, you'll quickly see the substance and quality of my content. Those haven't come out of nowhere. They result from years of research, interviews, data collection, contextualization, and a very tough experience of my own artistic journey, the one I embarked upon against overwhelming odds.
My hope making these videos was to create added value for my audience around personal development, mental health, empathy, vulnerability, and human connection. Given the nature of these topics, I consciously chose to focus my efforts on authenticity and substance rather than on the form and technical aspects of my content. It's okay if you judge books by their covers and aren't interested in hearing from anyone who doesn't have a bleached smile, a professional microphone, and a nice Western [upper‑]middle‑class interior as their filming setting. It's okay if you have this unconscious conditioning, probably related with your own privilege, to see a person and their ideas as credible and worthy of your attention only if they look successful. It's okay, and it probably means my podcast isn't for you. There's plenty of content about relationships, personal development, and creativity made by middle-class, mostly white, mostly straight Western people that you might want to prefer over mine. However, it's been my existential observation that most powerful ideas and most transformative insights about life rarely come from people with privileged life experiences. They come from folks who'd gone through, survided, and constructively contextualized major trauma and oppression. It's not my merit or source of pride to find myself among those people. It does, nevertheless, make my experience of cultivating resilience, self-worth, and courage more profound and more impactful than those of people far more privileged than me. So whether you prioritize formal quality over the depth of the context or not, is totally up to you.
Please be informed, though, that in the future I plan to re-record my talks as audio podcasts with a better quality, in a noise-free enviroment (my car's the only one I can think of right now), and employ professional editing software to make them sound like "real", middle-class-American-standard quality podcasts. This conversion is just not in the cards for me right now, as I'm working three jobs trying to make ends meet after the COVID-19 recession in the already tanking economic landscape of Russia.
In 2019, recording 100+ video talks packed with substantial ideas took me almost a year of daily scripting, filming, editing, re-filming, being my own hairstylist, camera man, set designer, Web developer and Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-ALL kind of guy — juggling my other jobs to pay the bills at the same time. This year, having to work even more jobs and coming back to networking around my book project, I have very little time available for a work as time-consuming as re-recording podcast versions of my original talks.
As Pema Chödrön once said to Brené Brown about living up to everybody's expectations, What I do is enough. Amen here. From my disadvantaged place, doing what I've done for my audience over the years without any monetization so far, has been effing more than enough. So I do hope you get the awkward, brave message of self-compassion and self-worth — as a culturally subversive alternative to perfectionism — from my talks these days and act upon it in your own life. One day, I do hope to meet and connect with y'all from the professional platform, which, in my particular life, cannot come about from anywhere but years of hard work, unwavering commitment, and the increasingly difficult trust in the power of human connection. Until then, be brave, stay curious, say the truth, and take care.
Un abrazote (a huge Spanish hug) from me to y'all ❤️
Jorge