Essays

12 posts

Background is two intercrossed street signs: one reads "Truth" and the other "Love" - overlaid on that is text that reads "The Merits of Being Honest" and the URL christianeknight.com

The Merits of Being Honest

I’ve talked about this before, in other ways and places. It’s a core tenet of who I am and I think about it so much that I find it necessary to expound on it at length often. Honesty is so deeply at the center of my moral compass that it weaves its way into my stories, my relationships, my whole way of moving through the world.

One of the things I talk about when it comes to how I present on social media and other public places is how important it is to me to be open, vulnerable, and honest. If I have any personal “brand” – such as it is, I really hate that concept – it’s being authentic and real. It’s been suggested that maybe that’s oversharing, and that it conflicts with my warning to folks to be careful with what personal info they share on social media.¹ And sure, I probably do “overshare” in some people’s eyes, and I’m not sorry about that. I purposefully talk about things that may be considered uncomfortable, like my chronic disease and its unpleasant effects, or being an older writer getting a late start, or abusive relationships, or being fat and queer and wanting representation in media, etc etc etc. I’m absolutely transparent about what I go through and the steps I’ve taken to be an independent, self-published author. I give away a lot of information and research I’ve done for free. I do also have a Ko-fi where people can get more of these things in exchange for monetary support, but I’m extremely generous with my experience and time. I try to give to others what would be valuable to me in return.

I don’t do any of this for any other reason than it’s who I am.

I come from a DIY, community-oriented punk background, where if there wasn’t something that you wanted or needed, everyone came together to make it happen. I think it’s community at its best, and you can see it show up in my stories too. In fact, that whole “Together we are stronger” attitude is the backbone of my Eleriannan stories. It overshadows every magical ability and is the glue that makes the characters and stories work.

In my personal life, it’s the bar I set for letting people close to me: you must be honest with me, and I will do the same for you. I’ve ended friendships and relationships over the ongoing inability to be crystal clear and not obfuscate the truth. Yes, even to spare my feelings, because the truth always comes out and lies are the insulting icing on top of the shitty deception cake. In return, I offer the same. You’ll always know where you stand with me. I’m not mean or brusque; you can be honest without being brutal. I’m forthright but not cruel. People get that twisted and it doesn’t need to be that way.

People often do small social white lies to smooth out day-to-day interactions, and I don’t do that.² What I do instead is find other ways to communicate positively without being dishonest. Usually that means when I’m asked my opinion about something and I know my answer isn’t going to be taken well, I find a way to frame it that isn’t negative. Being asked for a review doesn’t mean that I need to shit all over someone’s work if I hated it–especially if it’s someone who is new to writing and is looking for support. In this case I might ask if they want a first impression or constructive feedback. Or I could say something like “This kind of story isn’t generally my cup of tea, but I ____” and name a few things that I did like in the story. Asking if I liked something isn’t the same as asking for a critique, and that applies for most things in life. [Just as talking about a problem isn’t opening the floor for advice!]

I can be honest and not crush someone’s dreams.

I can also recognize that my opinions are just that, and I may not be the right person to criticize another, and so I try not to unless expressly invited to do so. The older I get, the more I find that kindness goes farther than the need to be right or be an expert. Maybe that makes me less exciting to follow on social media, I don’t know. That’s okay. I’m always going to choose kindness. And I’m always going to advocate for honesty. The merits of that? You’ll always know where you stand with me, and I can feel good about how I move in the world.

¹Authenticity on social media doesn’t mean that you should give away clues about your personal life that could put you in danger. It’s up to you to decide where that line is. I talk a lot about very personal things but I keep hidden details like links to where I am at that moment for example, posting them after the fact if I want to give positive attention to the business. Usually I only give those kind of details in a timely manner for things like appearances, where I want fans to find me. Be careful with your address and other identifying info that could arm a potential stalker, okay?
² I used to, don’t get me wrong. I thought I was sparing feelings. That was a mistake born out of good intentions that thankfully someone I cared about addressed in a way that stuck with me. I learned my lesson.

person s hands

Fierce and Fragile

I am, in turn, fierce and fragile.

My left hand is smooth. On my right, the skin is rougher, from hard work. Because of this, I wear my jumbled pile of black rubber and sterling silver bracelets on my left arm, so they do not get in the way when I Do Things. I make it up to my right arm by the permanent adornment of a black skeleton key tattoo.

Smooth or rough, my hands are strong. I use them to grasp and pull and lift, and then I work with the most sensitive part of my fingers – the tips – and shape and draw wool into yarn with great control and skill. I am capable of extremes.

“What about this thing that you gave
What if it weren’t quite perfect
What if there was something bad about it?
Wouldn’t you still love it just the same?
Wouldn’t you still care about it?”

Victoria Williams, Lights

When I am “up” I am often deliriously happy, in love with the world. No color escapes my sight, no touch from my lover taken for granted. I revel in the cool breezes, the look and feel of my clothing, the way my body moves. I am never more alive than in those moments.

When depression creeps in – sneaky, unnoticed until I am full in the throes – I feel heavy, pained. I notice the same things, but the delight I get from them is muffled, no matter how I try to break free from the web of grey that wraps around me. I am still the same girl, but I am covered in a shroud of melancholy.

And writing that, I feel melodramatic… but it’s true, as much of a truth as my two hands which are part of the same body yet so different. Knowing this, accepting this – it helps. Each hand has its own strengths and weaknesses, its own adornments and looks. That is the way that it is. I can’t reject that. I don’t have to wallow in the weaknesses of my left hand to appreciate that it looks less aged, less haggard. And I don’t have to feel bad about my right hand looking rougher, marked by time; I recognize that it has worked hard and created many beautiful things. Together, they work to write this blog entry and share my words.

I love them both, because they are mine.