Halimat Olaniyan

If my experiences during college have taught me anything, it is that writing is a powerful means of expression. Somehow, even when I don’t know what to say, I always have something to write. Last semester, and this one, was really rough for me health-wise.

The National Museum of African American History and Culture

As a Muslim in the United States, it wasn’t unusual for me to feel like I didn’t belong here. As if I was taking up space that wasn’t mine to occupy. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to convince people that I’m American enough, while at the same time almost doubting it myself.

The author taking a picture of Barack Obama's portrait

I’m about as far from a fine arts critic as one can get. I don’t consume art and I definitely don’t study art. Whenever I go to art museums, I usually spend more time on the benches than looking at the art.

The author standing in front of the Journalists Memorial

As a fourth grader, my afternoon routine was simple. After getting off the bus, I’d make myself some microwavable macaroni & cheese and settle in with a copy of The Detroit Free Press.


The roommate selection process involved months of calculated messages, trying to finesse conversation, hoping the girl I met on Facebook would think I was super cool and ask to room with me.

Screenshot from Black Panther

This past weekend, the editors of Michigan in Color were given complimentary tickets from the Office of Multi-Ethnic Student Affairs to watch “Black Panther”.

Elizabeth as a child

It is Feb. 16 at the time I am writing this. To some of you, today will have been just another Friday. To me and others, however, today is New Year’s Day, a time not only for festivities, but also reflection.


As soon as I heard Marvel was planning to create a Black superhero movie, I was psyched. I love Marvel and as a Black person and a Nigerian, it wasn’t that hard to notice the lack of representation in Marvel movies as I grew up. But I knew the release of “Black Panther” would change that.

"I love you" in Tagalog

As Valentine’s Day is around the corner, the month of February as a whole always has me thinking critically about love. I love love. I consider myself a hopeless romantic, and though I shamefully enjoy the occasional “love-is-dead” joke, I cannot deny that love is a beautiful thing.

 *This piece has been expanded to include an addendum, Click here.*

I am sorry, but exclusively dating white women is not “just a preference.”