Thanks to the evil machinations of FB friend Kelly Kel, supported by dozens of others, I have become a Doctor Who fan. It started with promises of hot gay sex on the Doctor Who spin-off Torchwood, and once I saw that, I was hooked into that universe. Or universes as it turns out.
Like many average looking women, I was completely bowled over by the character of Donna Noble. She is a temp who manages to cross paths with The Doctor and eventually become his companion. Not only is she not the drop dead gorgeous companions of the past, she actively harasses The Doctor in ways none of the other companions did. She pulls his Time Lord pigtails over and over again.
I won’t go into any spoilers about where the following passage comes from, or what the context is, but when I watched this scene in Doctor Who I found myself crying.
No, but you are. (looking at her as if he’s just understanding) Oh. You really don’t believe that, do you? I can see, Donna… what you’re thinking. All that attitude. All that lip. Cos all this time… you think you’re not worth it.
Shouting at the world, cos no-one’s listening. Well… why should they?
Doctor. Stop it.
This scene knocked me flat on my ass. Why AM I shouting at the world all of the time? Why do I have so much attitude, so much lip? Why do I see everything as a fight, a struggle in which I have to prove myself? Why do I make everything such a fucking battle?
Because underneath all that bluster, all that armor, all that stuff I think makes me look like a bad ass, a part of me is terribly afraid that nothing that I say is worth hearing.
It would be easy to stop here and wait for the chorus of people to chime in with accolades of my wit, my intelligence, my beauty, and my general awesomeness. But it would not work. It would be a quick salve that would last until I felt needy again, and then I would once again need to hear it outside of myself.
But guess what else is inside me? A growing part of me that thinks, no KNOWS, that what I have to say, what I have to offer this world is unique and worthwhile. The matter and electrical energy that comprises me has NEVER existed in this combination before, and it never will again. If I compare myself to other people, there will always be someone smarter, prettier, sexier, more feminist, more skeptical, a better writer, or even more bad assed. And that is ok – this is not a competition. But no one can EVER be Heidi Marie Anderson better than me, and I can’t be them.
As long as I try to convince other people of my worth, I will come up short. Haters gonna hate. Someone will always have issues with me.
But as long as I KNOW my worth, that worth can never be taken.