When I was younger, I had what some people might have described as a ‘favourite’ response to most questions. It was, “I don’t know.”

Whether the question was “Where do you want to go?” or “What do you want to do?” or What do you want to eat?”, I’d give the same answer, “I don’t know.” On occasion, if I were asked what I wanted to wear, I might have been a little pickier . But even then, it didn’t seem to take much to dissuade me from my initial choice.

There was this air of unsureness that oozed from me. I just really thought I ‘didn’t know’, especially compared to the more confident, opinionated, loud, outspoken personalities that were often around me. Or maybe my timid nature made them appear that way. Regardless, everyone seemed so sure about what they wanted except for me, so I left it up to them to make the decisions.

The thing I couldn’t see is that the more I practised this “I don’t know-ing”, the more I made it part of my identity. I just started thinking that’s who I was. And other people got used to choosing for me. Eventually, I subconsciously started believing my opinion didn’t really matter, that I didn’t have something important to say. And if a little hint of a possible preference would rise up in me, I would wonder what difference it would make anyway, so kept it in. I became accustomed to living life according to everyone else’s preferences. I didn’t think it bothered me because I thought, hey, at least it was one less opinion they had to consider. I thought I was making things easier for everyone else.

But, there were a LOT of opinions going around- family members’, friends’, that of the culture around me which included Indian, African, older generations, and the younger generation of the Canadian culture I also grew up in. Opinions of peers, classmates, teachers, religion, and those I just absorbed from what I read or saw on TV, not to mention those of society as a whole.