Sunday, January 17, 2016

Little She. Big Me. ♡

(photo courtesy of WeHeartIt.com) 

She is elegant.

She is sweet.

She is powerful.


During unnecessarily long bus rides, extra time between classes, and bouts of insomnia every now and then I like to peruse this app called We Heart It (which you can check out for yourself right here). It's a plethora of pretty wallpapers, outfit inspirations, and hipster quotes but there's a ton of beautiful artwork on the app as well, which is what I usually prefer to browse. Just like any other search engine, it allows you to plug in whatever tickles your fancy and it'll load images related to the word(s) or phrases you use.

Recently, I searched for "African art". It was fun.

It's actually when I came across the photo above and I just fell in love with it. It reminded me of myself as a little girl and how I viewed myself. Not the self that my family, teachers, and friends told me belonged to me. But the self that I manifested, the one that came naturally to me. And I wondered how we differentiate between the two as young girls, particularly young brown girls. What happens to that self as we grow older and encounter people and experiences that challenge it? 

I've found that there's something really comforting in hearing (or reading) life experiences of other brown girls (and women) because it affirms that I am not alone. Or shall I say, I have not been alone. The ways that I have come about to know and understand myself are similar to the ways of another person even if we never speak of it. Oftentimes we may be embarrassed to speak of it because it summons up memories we'd rather forget. But that doesn't heal any wounds. It's a metaphorical bandaid. I'd rather discuss it. 

How did you view yourself as a little girl? How did you develop that view? How did others receive it?


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