On Fighting Boggarts - Part I

* A boggart is a shapeshifter that usually lurks in dark spaces. It has no definite form, taking the shape of that which is most feared by the person who encounters it.

During one of my workshops, a participant shared the desire to express her true self. Although she had a circle of close friends, often times she found it hard to assert what she actually felt or thought. Even the thought of voicing disagreement made her uncomfortable. She asked me what to do. What could she do to make speaking up less difficult? Instead of responding directly to her question, I asked her:

“Do you have faith in yourself?”

“No,” she replied, lowering her gaze, “a lot of people have said I should.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” I said firmly, seeing suddenly a past version of me, trying futilely to think myself into self-believing, “because faith in oneself comes from practice.”

I have never been a particularly bold child when growing up. One time during kindergarten, I was bullied by a boy who bit my fingernails throughout a reading class. At one point I did try to break away, but he was much stronger. He pulled me back by the hand and knocked my head to the corner of the table, so I gave up immediately. I sat through the rest of that class without one more act of protest. Another time I was at McDonalds with my mom. The staff forgot to switch on the light for Play Space in the basement. My mom told me to speak to the CSR myself if I wanted the light on. I ended up crying till it was time to leave, because I could not bring myself in front of the intimidating-looking lady. Each time I tried to step towards her, my chest would tighten and my legs would grow soft. I felt afraid.

I understood from an early age that there was a Boggart living inside of me. It whispered doubts into my head and sent fear through my body each time I was taking a risk. For a long time, I could not master the skills to fight Boggarts. The trick, as described in Harry Potter, or spoken by Zen masters in cliché Chinese TV shows, is to first of all realize that what you see in the state of fear is not real. But no matter how hard I tried, I could not think myself out of fear. Say, minutes before a talent audition, I would argue in my head with the Boggart’s defeating words, but confidence still would not flow into my heart. Before raising my hand to speak in a lecture hall of 200 strangers, I could put together lists of reasons to convince myself that I would be okay. However, I still would not be able to feel the assured weight in my feet. After all, it was a risk. The person sitting in front me in clear sleep deprivation might have rolled his eyes when I interrupted the professor. I cannot argue with my Boggart because there is something valid in what it shows me. There is a chance that I will get rejected, criticized or ridiculed each time I put myself out there. There was a chance that if I fought back at that bully in kindergarten, I would have received another blow.

The key to fight Boggarts is actually rather simple. It is simple as telling the little girl to talk to the CSR at McDonalds herself even though she is afraid as hell. A few weeks after the tantrum I wrote about earlier, my mom took me back to the restaurant. That time, I did talk to the CSR despite the discomfort walking up to her. The lady bent down to my level and listened carefully. It turned out that she was not at all intimidating.