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One of my greatest struggles in life has been finding comfort in my own body. Being born a girl often feels like being placed in a cage, and when you add being Black to that, the cage becomes even smaller.
From an early age, I was taught to always appear well-kept, to wear “this or that” because I’m a girl, to avoid certain shows or songs, to steer clear of things I might love—all because I’m a girl. These restrictions didn’t just confine my body; they stifled my identity and expression.
And yet, after being molded into what society wants me to be, I’m somehow expected to “like” myself. But what if the reason I’ve struggled to feel at home in my own skin is because society has confused me—layering its expectations over my truth?
Instead of letting me naturally evolve into who I’m meant to be, I’ve been left staring into the mirror at the echoes of America’s ideals, wondering: Who am I, really?
