I’ve always wondered if a woman’s Blackness will be remembered, or if our importance, impact and beauty will fade. Sometimes, I feel I allow my mind to dabble in what-if’s and what society thinks rather than focusing on the beauty of my Blackness, and the strength of my Black body.
With the New Zealand shooting affecting our Muslim community, to midterms and tests stressing many students out, these last few months have been difficult and busy for many. Music has always been there for me through tough times and it is the thing that I turn to when I need comfort.
In elementary school, if I wasn’t drawing, I’d be in the city library, lost in a biography of Magritte or a history of Impressionism. I was certain that I’d become an artist, sharing my self-expression with the world in the greatest museums.
Before I began college, my dad told me that I’d end up being friends with those who were like me—that I’d stick to my “own kind.” What he meant was that the people who I’d surround myself with would all be Asian, a stark contrast to my high school best friends.