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Category

Being black

Category

When people ask me why I travel, maybe I’ll  direct them to this post (which I’ve put off publishing for days) rather than offering up some vague explanation about “finding myself”.

“Finding myself”  in relation to my travels make it sound as if I actually left my right leg in Medellin, or something. But “finding myself” is exactly what I’m trying to do.

Because after 23 years of thinking that I knew my ethnic background —  of thinking that I knew who I was — I have found out news that changes everything, but at the same time, nothing:

I am (probably) black.

That statement in itself might look ridiculous to anyone who doesn’t know me. To anyone who has stumbled across this post, seen a couple of my photos and thought;

Is this girl crazy? She’s very clearly not white. ~Insert Specsavers joke here.~

But for the longest time I grew up believing that I was. White, that is.

So after years of pining over the melanin-heavy photos of AFROPUNK festival online and wishing that I had; 1), a Brooklyn residency. (So that I could stroll on over to the festival, then stroll on back to my apartment/house and pass out.) And 2), a fly outfit. (For the photos). I finally got myself together and actually made it to AFROPUNK, 2016 in New York City.

The annual celebration of black music, culture, fashion and activism takes place in Brooklyn’s Commodore Barry Park for a weekend. This just so happened to be about twenty minutes from where I was living; meaning the pass-out at the end was quick and easy and painless. Just as I’d always envisaged.

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