Michelle White
AUTHOR

Michelle White

Literature & Fiction
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I was born in the decade when Star Wars: A New Hope was released. We just called it Star Wars, though, because we didn’t know there were going to be a bazillion sequels and spin-offs and merchandising opportunities. It was plain old Star Wars, and it was the raddest thing ever! I remember standing in line for tickets, leaning against a tan stucco wall that radiated desert heat, listening to my dad talk to his dad about this movie that would Change Everything. Entering the dark, air-conditioned theater was the most heavenly moment of the day. That is until the opening credits started rolling, and the music broke open my soul, the same way I know it did to millions of others. Star Wars showed me a world that existed beyond this world. I’d always felt a little like an alien, and Star Wars brought that feeling of otherness down to earth for me. It made it cool to be grotesquely different; look at Chewie! My friends were puzzled whenever I claimed him for our recess-time reenactments. I was in love with the absolute otherness of him. It was so freeing to slip into his role, to sling my belt across my torso, to wield a Wiffle ball bat like a crossbow, to save the distressed damsel in the sandbox. Plus, I was sure of clinching the Chewie role because the rest of the girls wanted to be Princess Leia, and the boys were fighting over who was Luke or Han. I was also born during the decade when Women’s Rights took a huge leap forward. Honestly, I never considered myself limited in this cisgendered female body. In my mind, I could and would do whatever I wanted…just like Princess Leia. Others imposed limitations, though. I heard endless editions of “Nice girls don’t…!” from my mom and Nana. I heard, “You have to choose to have a husband or a career,” from my dad when I was freshly graduated from college. Later, he said, "You can't be a mom and still have the career you have." I allowed them to sway me on and off my path for forty years. Now I only see the path in front of me, and it doesn’t rise or fall any differently if I follow their rules or not. I brought everything with me that I need to make it to the end of my journey, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Their path is not my path. My parents, both brought up in Catholic households, chose to raise me in a non-religious environment. At least my dad chose it. I think my mom always missed church as a touchstone in her life. After they divorced, my mom started taking me to Methodist worship. Sometimes, it was fun. Most of the time, I just wanted to go home, dress up in costume, and dance to Barry Manilow records. I put up with being dragged to church for a few years. In the end, it wasn’t for me. I had my own ideas about spirituality, many of which accorded with the Jedi religion of Star Wars, and none of which accorded with what was being taught at church. Eventually, I complained in a teenagery fashion until my mom relented and let me stay home on Sunday mornings. When my Spiritual Awakening was catalyzed at age 42, following an epic midlife crisis, I was nearly a blank religious slate. The knowledge that poured into me from the light of the Universe settled in fast. There was no old religious infrastructure to demolish and build over, only the trauma scars of trying to be someone else besides me for four decades. My goal as an author is to learn from the experiences along my path and translate them into something exciting, knowable, and hopeful for the reader. To help my reader feel a little less alone, maybe a little less lost or hopeless, on their path. When we are not alone, we feel stronger. When we know others before us toiled and prevailed in the same steps we are following, we feel most hopeful. We look to the Warriors that went before us for proof that they did, and we can. And that is what I am, a Warrior.
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