How much power does someone else’s perception have to define your identity? Even the passing perceptions, shared off the cuff.

Here are some of the perceptions I fielded over the years.

“You’re fat,” and for decades I believed it, but now, sorting through decades-old photos, I see that younger me and I wasn’t.

“You’re a good teacher,” and I resisted it because that’s not what I wanted to be, so I pushed away a powerful part of myself.

“Why aren’t you studying home economics? You don’t belong in this literature class,” and I felt inferior in a musky room full of men who had a singular (redundant) approach as they entered and analyzed often obtuse works of old literature.

“You’re not the real thing,” from an older man at a bar in the Keys who was a Hemingway wannabe, and I doubted my ability to find my own feet on the page.

It’s a wonder any of us survive these voices that infiltrate our (well)being from the outside while we battle our own demon voices within. Even if we ignore and reject them, they shape us in how we turn away, a ding in our armor, an overworked muscle in our set jaw.

Voices

The voices were often the small things I received in passing, but some of them stuck like burs on my pant legs as I moved through challenges—high school, college degrees, marriage, workplaces—and navigated my identity.

I mostly have questions. No answers. But as I consider where I’ve been and who I’m becoming, I see the impact those voices have had over a rule follower and a people pleasure.

This is what I think (hell if I really know) happened to me. The voices and perceptions of others….

• made me stubbornly determined to prove myself.
• redirected me and sent me down long, winding detours.
• riddled me with self-doubt, which reinforced my stubborn determination.
• gave me fodder for thought, page, and pen.

Like most people, I have stories in my head about how I might have handled some of the perceptions differently—slippery shoulders that let comments roll off, comebacks that defend my agency, confidence that deflects the deflectors. These stories are fun, but they’re not what happened.

I can’t rewrite how I responded to negative perceptions, but I can use what I know about the power other people’s perceptions have to define our identities.

I claimed my agency late by some standards, but I’m happily embracing it.

The part that makes me happiest is sharing my perceptions of others with them. I share what’s strong, what I appreciate, what makes them shine. It’s a small gesture that brings more light.

How have the perceptions of others shaped and influenced you? How do your perceptions shape and influence others?

©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2026