Kilgrove

I’ve struggled with my identity for as long as I can remember.

As the only child in my family with a darker complexion from my Mexican heritage, I grew up in a household that was dominated by white supremacy and was discouraged from showing that side of myself. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was hiding bits of myself, intentionally and unintentionally, in order to be accepted. I truly couldn’t distinguish who I was from who I thought other people wanted me to be. I was always told that I was the problem, inherently flawed, so I began to identify with narratives that had me being the villain in my own story. Something deep inside of me fought against this, and my rebellious spirit became both my burden and my savior. Even as a child, I always knew I was destined for something greater; forging my own path.

It’s been a challenge holding space for the parts of me that inhabit both the colonizers and the colonized, but I’ve begun to see the unique perspective that provides me. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to proudly claim my heritage of being a mix between Mexican, Spanish, Irish and English. Most Americans can relate to feeling a bit like a mutt, but I still noticed that I lacked a community that I truly felt a part of. I identified as an artist, an activist, a leader, a daughter, a sister, a wife, a pet mom. Yet, at the end of each day, I felt empty inside. It wasn’t until I took an honest look at my life that I realized I had been living someone else’s vision of what my life should be, rather than my own.

How had I gotten so lost?

Friends, therapy, podcasts, social media & books helped open my eyes to the hard truth I had been avoiding: I never got the chance to develop my own identity. Growing up as the scapegoat in a narcissistic household turned me into a codependent, people-pleaser who put everyone else’s needs above her own. I realized no one really knew me, because I didn’t even know me.

After nearly a decade of a lonely and parasitic marriage, I got divorced at the beginning of 2022. On my journey of self discovery and identity work after a lifetime of emotional abuse and neglect, I began to seek a new surname that resonated with me. I knew I didn’t want to go back to my maiden name, thinking of how silly the tradition of women giving up their surnames to become “property” of their husbands truly is. I began to think of all of the names lost in my family tree, imagining the many sacrifices the women had to make.

I had began to listen to that quiet voice inside that knew life had so much more in store for me. I followed my heart all the way to Ireland and I fell in love with parts of me that I forgot existed. I trusted that my intuition would guide me to the right place where my new name would call out to me. Then while walking in a pet cemetery, the name “Kilgrove” jumped out. As if by magic, the more I began to identify with this new name that celebrated a bit of my ancestry, the more I began to feel like my authentic self.

Taking inspiration from the trans community and seeing how much lighter people feel when their energy on the inside matches their energy on the outside, I began to picture in my mind the type of person I wanted to be. Kilgrove embodied all of the confidence, kindness, talent and beauty that I longed to possess. I found myself asking “What would Lacey Kilgrove do?” each time I was faced with an opportunity to grow. I feel as though this person has been inside of me all along, waiting to be revealed to the world.

There’s the initial fear of judgement in what other people will say or think about it, especially from those who have never questioned their identity or who are afraid to break from tradition. Personally, I struggled with whether or not to tell people where my chosen surname came from (a tombstone in a pet cemetery), choosing to say simply “it’s a name that means something to me” (which is true). However, as my own self-validation and confidence have developed, I began to realize this origin story is a great bullshit filter in helping me find my people; the ones who will love it for me.

The hard truth is that not everyone is going to like me, or understand where I’m coming from, and that’s okay. For those of us who never quite felt as though we fit in, finding ways to show up authentically is the scariest and most rewarding work of our lives. As we build up our communities of supportive and safe individuals, we can gradually remove the stigma around breaking traditions that are solidified into our cultures.

We should all feel as though we have a choice in how we show up in the world, and have the power and courage to step away from traditions that no longer serve us. People may never understand or agree with this type of decision, but ultimately it doesn’t affect them.

I believe everything happens for a reason and although my journey of self-discovery has been a painful and lonely endeavor, I am truly grateful for the life I have manifested for myself today. It feels pretty damn good to say, for the first time in my life, that I know who I am, I love who I am, and I am proud of the decisions i’ve made to get here. I am on a journey find my soul family and surround myself with people who pour as much love into me as I pour into them.

My new motto in life: Love me well or leave me alone.