I am an anthropologist by training, a French language and cultural connoisseur by choice, and a dancer by passion. Writing is a by-product of my desire to be creative and my desire to express feelings and ideas I could not otherwise express.

I was extremely shy as a child. Extremely. It was very hard for me to share my emotions verbally. And these difficulties still play into my everyday experience with the world. It has even affected my writing. Originally, when I discovered writing on pages of journals no one would ever see, I found solace in knowing I had expressed something, even if it was read only by me. The thought of others reading it terrified me.

Writing in college for my degree became something I enjoyed, even with the stress of deadlines, or the continual research that seemed omnipresent and never ending. At times, research papers were a way to express things that seemed important to humanity, but without the fear that someone was reading my personal thoughts. After all, the writing was based in research, even if the academic language to some may be dry and off-putting.

Now, I am still trying to find the balance between writing creatively and from my heart and writing from my academically trained lens, a lens that should be rational and methodical. But I also want to write in a way anyone could understand, and occasionally share my intimate feelings and experiences—if for no other reason than to confront the fear of sharing them.

Let’s say I am still trying to find my niche. One of the good things about writing for a social content platform like Odyssey is that I can experiment with topics—they let me write about whatever I want.

But what I have learned while writing for Odyssey is that when you write content for a social platform, various frustrations may surface. Everything is based upon social sharing, and that creates an amoeba of viral content about things I sometimes deem ridiculous.

That’s not to put down any writer or to say that what they choose to write about is meaningless. There are plenty of great writers who give their article a week to the platform, and I’ll admit it, sometimes I like clicking on headlines like “10 Reasons Cats Are Superstars.” Disclaimer: I don’t think that has actually been a headline.

My point is, now I am continuously asking myself, “Why am I writing? What is it I want to express?”

I have looked at writing jobs in the “real world.” I have seen advertisements for “cultural” writers, or “news” writers, “politics” or “travel” writers. Some sound so appealing and yet I ask myself, is that my niche? Am I a “cultural” writer?

It can be frustrating to try to categorize yourself. And really, writing is a process not easily categorized. Sometimes I write specifically because I am trying to understand myself or my process. The somewhat annoying thing about writing for a content platform based on social sharing is that you develop an acute awareness of how “likeable” or “shareable” your work is. This can be flattering when least expected, or depressing when you wish it wasn’t.

I’ll give you an example. Often, I write about subjects I feel strongly about, or that I wish more people would feel strongly about. When these articles do not get as many shares or likes as others, it can make me even more cynical than I already am. I wonder, does anyone really care about these issues? What kind of world is it when superstar cats get more attention than unfairly marginalized groups of people?

Other times, I write about something silly, because let’s face it, I need some jokes every now and then.

Recently, I wrote about period panties—a new and hip form of controlling menstruation, targeted at “modern women.” While it was an informative piece of something I found interesting, it was also a bit of a satire. A company who designs in the first world but produces in the third world targets “modern women” while professing a concern for period shaming cross-culturally, and a desire to help the developing world by sending women in other countries pads (but not the product they are producing) is something to think about.

My period panty article was the first time anyone commented on Odyssey about what I had written. And both of them criticized me for writing about something I hadn’t tried yet. I laughed thinking that of all things I have written, period panties gets the conversation going.

I guess my point is that sometimes it all seems so futile. Maybe people are quick to point fingers when the subject is trivial but afraid to speak when it’s important. I don’t know what my niche is yet, and in the meantime, I am writing to a small public eye, and I wonder if in the end those tangible journal pages are more of a loyal friend than the quick swipe of a finger along a newsfeed.

But writing isn’t always about what other people think anyway, or about saying the perfect thing at the right time. It doesn’t always have to be about some deep topic for public conversation. The process may be something greater, like discovery.

Writing is asking questions and attempting to answer them. Writing is being silly. It is discussing the nonsense of living. Or it is trying to propose a means of change. It is learning something new, discovering something you previously knew nothing about. Writing is expressing things close to the heart, or speaking out about issues you care about. Writing is activism. It is observation, and sometimes, it doesn’t come easy. Other times, it flows as easily as the blood in your veins, fingers tapping keys in steady rhythm, minimal pausing between the periods of a sentence.

Writing is learning about yourself or the other. Writing is teaching about yourself or the other.