Intimate Portraits: Fateme’s Story

I was convinced by family and friends that creativity is a frivolous act.

I became a scientist despite a childhood spent writing poems, drawing and wondering in awe at the creativity of life.

So, I started convincing myself of the myth*“I’m not creative.”*

Not out loud.

But in the intimate space of my soul’s whisper.

I sacrificed the artist to the altar of responsibility.

And every time I tried to pick up again pen, paint-brash, dance, I would

repeat to myself that creativity wasn’t supposed to look like scribbles in notebooks, half-finished poems, a restlessness that couldn’t pay bills.

I had a prestigious career.

I knew how to build systems, hold power, make things work at scale.

But when I left it behind in search of something else, everything collapsed.

I lost everything. Prestige, pride, network, the proverbial stability. All gone.

You’d think I’d never call myself creative again. You’d think I’d run back to safety.

But in the ruins, all I could still touch was creativity.

Not as a brand.

Not as a side project.

As the only rope left in my hands.

So I drew.

I wrote.

I listened.

I kept company with questions instead of answers.

And the strange thing?

Those small acts, the kind no one applauds are what kept me alive.

This is why I’m Not Creative matters to me.

Because the truth is, creativity never looked like what I was taught it should.

It looked like survival.

Like rebellion.

Like faith in something no one else could see.

And if you’ve ever whispered to yourself, “I’m not creative” know this:

you are not alone.

You’re in the right place.

This channel is for you.

This is the Radio Show to remind you are creative too.

We all are!