Representation Matters
I spent the first day of Black History Month buying books.
I, along with 3 others, co-founded a Black Lives Matter chapter. In the weeks following George Floyd’s murder this summer, we looked for ways to contribute to the community and make it clear that we weren’t going anywhere. I spoke at (outdoor and masked!) rallies, planned my own rally in my hometown, and still work with the chapter on social media, graphic design, and running projects. As part of Black History Month, we’re donating books to Little Free Libraries all over southern New Hampshire. (Little Free Libraries are amazing resources — this map will show the ones closest to you!)
It was so rewarding to think through and select each narrative and then drop the books off over the weekend. As we were preparing for the book project, Disney+ announced that the 1997 version of Cinderella, starring Whitney Houston and Brandy would be made available. These two things combined made me think a lot, and I realized that I was so excited because the stories we chose were about more than just (and I do use that word carefully), the Black struggle.
The books we chose were from a wide range of time periods, places, and people. From New Hampshire’s Harriet Wilson, whose book, Our Nig, chronicles her life as a slave in NH, to How We Fight For Our Lives by Saeed Jones, a Black, gay man whose 2019 memoir talks about growing up in the Deep South. There are fictional works too, like Jazz by Toni Morrison, and A Good Kind of Trouble by Lisa Moore Ramee. Including comics featuring Black Panther and Ironheart meant that we could see ourselves in fantasy worlds, too. We hoped that the wide range of stories would make it clear that the Black experience is worth more than a month. I can remember watching Cinderella and being amazed that the queen was Black. I didn’t realize it when I was that young, of course, but seeing that representation was amazing. Whoopi Goldberg was regal and humorous, and a great mom, and serious, too — even as the Queen, a relatively minor role, she had more dimensions than many of the Black female characters I was used to seeing on screen.
In my internships and college education, I’ve been lucky to be taught and mentored by women, people of color, and neurodivergent people who are open and honest about their lives, struggles, and triumphs. One teacher, a Journalism professor, told me that when she was rising through the ranks of her publication, a male manager told her she was a talented writer, but that he was worried about her “bitch factor” — that people would see her as nothing more than a nosy woman who didn’t deserve to be in her position. My first (and, so far, only) Black professor told me about how proud his family was when he earned his teaching degree because they knew the impact he would make.
I have no idea where my career will take me. I know I’d love to work in Broadcasting/Journalism/Media, but I’d be just as happy as an actress or running a nonprofit. I knew my Communication Arts background would make me more valuable as a team member, and my Journalism degree would open doors. I just know I want to be able to tell and shape stories, to break barriers, and to be the representation that’s so desperately needed. A Black woman, Linsey Davis, just took over as an anchor on World News Tonight. I’m in a Facebook group for that National Association of Black Journalists and the joy in the comments on the post was the same joy I felt when I watched Whitney Houston sing Impossible to Brandy.
I’m so glad I belong in so many places that have made a space for every part of who I am, and now is a good time to remind myself to do the same for everyone I meet.
Happy Black History Month!
