Why Do I Write?

Diego Bascur

Why do I write? Why do I love it? I currently face these questions in the midst of a doubtful time in my life. I wonder about this passion; I worry about its validity in my life and of the fire which seems so dim in my soul. Our doubts must be faced, as without them we can become distant to the reasons why we love them in the first place. We might never grow deeper in what makes our passions fierce and pure. I face doubt now, as fear takes me to a place where I question this passion of mine.

As doubt has crept in, writing seems to be an unnatural action, an awkward motion which must be forced out. Every word resists me, and flow alludes me. The act of putting pen to paper, fingers to the keyboard, feels almost painful. It has brought me to a place of self-reflection, in that my passion, and the career which stems from it, seems to be in question. I near the edge of myself where a leap of faith must be taken. I near a crossroad which must be faced.

and James’ “Winter Essentials Stay Cozy two-piece Sweat Set in Oak Milk” retails for an unfortunate $70 and their “Organic Cotton Chunky Knit Sweater in Shell” starts at $80. It is unreasonable to buy a sweater for an adult price for a baby who will outgrow it in a few months. The same argument that children do not care about the colour of their clothing and toys also applies to their price tag. With much of motherhood now being portrayed in trends on social media, unsolicited parenting advice is digitalized in story links and sponsored advertisements.

absent of fun-filled, cherishable moments, and it is not vacant of the deepest love.”

The millennial mom even admits that DeRouches’ videos are funny and acknowledges that her personal preference does not need to work for everyone because it works for her family. With sad beige’s gender neutrality making it easier to have clothes that can be hand-me-downs and the soft palate calming to avoid sensory overload, she stands by her decision to dress her children in sad beige and maintains that neither mother nor child is unhappy.

While not a mother myself, I respect that each and every one of us have the freedom of choice when it comes to how we raise our children. Despite the blandness of this newest trend, it is not as harmful as some of the other trends have been, such as the infamous Tide Pods challenge. However, its biggest danger might lie in its origin. This trend is essentially ‘for the parents by the parents.’ This can lead to the false notions that beige is the best because it is in high demand and that those on the outs are somehow less than.

Beige does not equal better. Beige does not mean ethically produced marketing or non-toxic and eco-friendly. I have never been a fan of the aesthetics that seemingly accompany sad beige which have a strange affinity for pampas grass, faux brown leather, and inspirational wall hangings with sayings like “I can do hard things” in cursive.

Mariah Maddox defends this newest trend in her December 2022 Motherly article “I’m a proud ‘sad beige parent’” with her tagline stating, “No matter what colors fill our home, this remains true: It is not

“I remember a time where words flowed out of me like a stream meeting an ocean, and in the ocean, I found peace. Now I roam a desert, where words are as scarce as water, and inspiration is a mirage which slips through my fingers like sand.”

This deep bond I once had with this place of serenity has been robbed from me. I remember a time where words flowed out of me like a stream meeting an ocean, and in the ocean, I found peace. Now I roam a desert, where words are as scarce as water, and inspiration is a mirage which slips through my fingers like sand. I wander in hope of finding meaning, the lost love for an action that came so naturally before. I need answers to the questions I face. Why do I write? Why do I love it?

In favour of neutrality, both the trend and common ground, I do not want this to be unsolicited advice. Beige is not better or worse; it is just a little sad and, therefore, funny. Call it heathered gray, oak milk, or fifty shades of nude, I do not care how you dress your baby as long as you care for them. All I ask is just please do not make parental responsibility an aesthetic too.

That is why I write now, why I continue to seek in hopes of crossing this desert of doubt. I desire to find solace in a sanctuary which I once called home. It was the place where the words made sense even when nothing else did. It was where vision was real and formed on paper like trees filling out a forest. I roam to find this forest again; I hope to feel peace amongst the trees where all is quiet and beautiful. That is why I write, why I love it: because it all used to make sense.