As a child, I used to think
about the stories and poems
I wanted to write when I got
older.
Whenever
something
funny happened, I thought
of how I could write a story
about it and make someone
else laugh too. Yet, I never
actually put pen to paper.
The stories I wanted to write
were
so
different
from
the books I read, and my
experiences were so noticeably
different from those of my
favorite characters. I thought
my story wasn’t something
people
cared
about.
Why
would anyone want to know
what an Indian, Muslim girl
from Michigan thought?
It wasn’t until I learned
about
the
erasure
of
my
history that I realized how
powerful
stories
could
be.
As I began engaging with
social justice, and learning
names for phenomena that I
had noticed and experienced
as a kid, I realized that my
stories had power. The details
of my life are as important as
Jo March’s in “Little Women.”
My talents are as magical as
Matilda’s. My feelings are as
important as Hermione’s.
I didn’t write much as a
child because I was scared.
I was scared no one would
like what I wrote, and I was
scared no one would even care.
As I grew older and pushed
myself to write about my lived
experiences, I found people
who had experiences similar to
my own. Finding other people
who relate to what I have
been through is empowering.
This is what pushed me to
write more and eventually join
MiC.
MiC
is
a
space
where
people of color can share their
thoughts
without
policing
their
writing
to
fit
what
society tells us is important.
We — our most raw and
true selves — are important. We
belong here. Most importantly,
we deserve a space to share
our stories. For me, MiC is that
space and I hope it can be as
empowering of a platform for
more people of color as well.
I spent my whole childhood
defining
my
Blackness
with
words that were not mine for
the choosing. My peers defined
Blackness by hip-hop, poverty
and a certain accent, and when
I didn’t fit their stereotype, I
was flippantly called an Oreo.
My parents did what they could
to give me a solid foundation in
my identity, but when half of my
day was spent around people
who looked nothing like me,
there’s only so much they could
do. I was left feeling irrevocably
inadequate; not Black enough to
truly be Black. My self-confidence
ached in the deepest of ways,
unable to overcome such a deep-
rooted feeling of confusion and
disconnection.
My
Blackness
was silenced, and worse, I didn’t
necessarily believe that was a bad
thing.
It wasn’t until I was exposed
to the written works of women
of color that I began to fathom a
version of self-acceptance that
was previously denied to me.
Proponents of radical self-love —
such as Audre Lorde, Rupi Kaur,
Michelle Obama and bell hooks
— were the role models I didn’t
know I needed. They taught me
the necessity of unconditionally
accepting who I am, and that
includes the histories, experiences
and
uniqueness
inherent
in
my identities. And now, I can
breathe a little bit easier knowing
I have the agency to define my
Blackness how I please, and I have
the agency to live out my truth
unforgivingly.
Too often the experiences
of people of color are placed
into
hollow
molds
that
condense
narratives
into
a
single
experience,
one
that
is
frequently
stereotaypical,
distorted
and
derogatory.
These misconstrued stories not
only cause misunderstandings
between communities, but they
cause internal alienation and
dissonance
when
one’s
own
experience does not match up
with the dominant narrative. I
experienced this firsthand, and all
of this could have been avoided if
the individual narratives of people
of color were valued in their
entirety and individuality.
Michigan in Color is the
platform I have been seeking
to affirm the individual lived
experience of people of color. As I
work daily to build the confidence
in my own voice, MiC is dedicated
to projecting voices that have been
historically and systematically
muted. Through my time in MiC,
I will hope to not only form the
words of my own story, but to
unconditionally
affirm
others
in the search for their own. I
welcome the mutual vulnerability,
growth and power that will arise
from such an energetic space.
I am so bad at expressing
myself. Oh my gosh, you guys, I
am so bad at expressing myself.
I can pump out boring,
essay-like pages in a quick
second; they won’t be perfect,
but they’ll be readable. They’ll
make sense. But putting my
feelings
and
thoughts
into
coherent words is just an
entirely different journey, and
the thought of doing that on
a regular basis this semester
makes my skin crawl with
uneasy, jumpy nerves.
But I want to.
(I
am
already
halfway
regretting writing this but
I’ll soldier on in the most self-
deprecating way possible.)
Having followed Michigan
in Color, the corner desk of The
Michigan Daily, for a long time,
I have seen talented, intelligent
writers draft up the most
wonderful pieces. The thought-
provoking, heavy and nuanced
discussions
have
genuinely
prompted me to examine the
way I wanted to present myself
in the world.
My
relationship
to
my
identity has been a paradox
of stubborn belief in who I
am mixed in with a shit-ton
of insecurities. The stubborn
belief part came a little late.
My life story goes: Born in
the United States, spent years
abroad living in four countries,
came back to the U.S. for high
school and steadily becoming
hyper-aware of my capital O,
quotation marks “Otherness.”
I
think
we
all
have
a
complicated relationship with
who we are. I think it’s a mess
of emotions and deep thought. I
think a lot about how I present
myself, the ways I suppress
myself, the ways people see
me, my culture, my language,
my home life, my strained
relationship with my kind-of
hometown Lahore, Pakistan. I
think, in the U.S., it’s hard to
pin yourself down and make
yourself a place because the
ground beneath you is always
shifting and rejecting parts of
you. But I think that MiC is a
pretty great place to be around
others who might feel the same.
We can be unsure together.
In the future, I want to do
this whole journalism thing —
for better or for worse, against
all family wishes because they
are pretty brown. But, I am
not cut out for three years of
law school, sorry Mom! And
to do that, it is so important,
vital, necessary, to read as
many narratives as possible —
to know all of the corners of
the story, the whole picture. It
is so important in journalism
to represent people and their
identities as responsibly as
possible. It is up to the writers
to train themselves. I want
to help bring stories to the
spotlight. I want to make sure
that race isn’t just an angle for
someone to take, but a voice
seamlessly
woven
into
the
account.
I am beyond excited and
honored to be heading over to
Michigan in Color. There is so
much we could be talking about
— so much. I can’t wait to be a
part of that discussion. I can’t
wait to help cultivate and open
that discussion. Oh my gosh,
you guys, I can’t wait.
“Your hair, it is so…” fill
in the blank: “fluffy,” “big,”
“weird,” you name it. People
said these things to me while
they ran their hands through
my hair as I walked to my
history class. They were not
used to the natural hair of a
Black girl who always wore
her hair slicked down and
straightened. Needless to say,
I never did it again. It took
too much time out of my day
running to the bathroom in
between classes to tame the
frizz that had occurred in
my twist-out because people
continued to touch my hair
without my permission. This
was my life for 12 years at a
predominantly white Catholic
school in Ann Arbor.
Being
Black
was
not
necessarily something I was
proud of growing up because
I was different from everyone
else, and it is not easy to
embrace something when no
one is else similar is around
you. To me, being a part of
Michigan in Color is a way
to not only get to know more
about myself and my Blackness
relative to the world around
me, but to get to know other
people of color who may have
experiences similar to mine. I
love being able to connect with
people over storytelling and
I think that MiC gives me the
perfect opportunity to do just
that, even if it makes just one
person on this campus feel like
they have a community that
supports them. Becoming a
part of MiC allows for different
perspectives to form and new
relationships between people
of color on campus to develop,
and in this turbulent time
period, that is what is needed
most.
There is power in
storytelling
and
sharing
our experiences with other
people, and I think Michigan
in Color is a perfect platform
to ameliorate the voices of
those that need to be heard
the most. I have already seen
the
growth
that
so
many
contributors have had during
their time at MiC, like Adam
who was vulnerable about his
personal growth since joining
Michigan in Color. Knowing
his experience gives me hope. I
am but one person, but I know
that my passion to learn about
the experiences of people of
color, as well as sharing my
own, is what is going to make
the biggest difference of all.
Michigan in Color
Thursday, January 4, 2018 — 3A
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Why I joined MiC: Nisa Khan
Why I joined MiC: Zainab Bhindarwala
Why I joined MiC: Lorna Brown Why I joined MiC: Na’kia Channey
I’ve
always
known
that
Michigan in Color is a space
to reclaim narratives and an
opportunity to be vulnerable
yet subversive. That is why
I joined in the first place;
however, I’ve come to realize
that Michigan in Color is more
than a publication space. To
me, Michigan in Color is a
community.
Over the past years, I’ve been
so honored to work with some
of the most incredible writers,
activists and dearest friends.
There was De’Mario and Toni
who led me my first year, and
Alyssa, Ashley and Sabrina who
inspired me to speak louder as a
Filipino American. Then Ashley
and Jason took over my second
year to lead Adam, Areeba,
Halimat, Neel, Sivanthy, Tanya
and I. As a senior editor and
summer managing editor, I’ve
had the privilege of reading
and editing so many important
stories from amazing people.
Michigan
in
Color
has
given me so much direction in
my life. I’m forever grateful
for all the late nights at the
office, brunches and editorial
photoshoots.
Though
there
were fun times filled with
sugary coffee and banter, the
more serious moments were
lessons for me to grow. Though
speaking out isn’t always easy,
I’ve come to acknowledge and
use the privilege I have to
help uplift others who are not
immediately afforded the same
luxury.
I cannot thank my former
editors enough for being in
my life during my highest
of highs and lowest of lows.
They are truly the friends that
have encouraged me to pursue
my creative endeavors. I’ve
learned so much about myself
as a person of color and the
importance of storytelling to
both myself and others.
As
my
third
year
with
Michigan
in
Color
comes
around, I cannot help but
be excited to expand this
community.
There
are
so
many thoughts that must be
expressed and so many voices
that need to be heard. As I have
been supported to speak louder,
I want to continue to do the
same for other people of color
on campus by passing on the
MiC.
CHRISTIAN PANEDA
Senior MiC Editor
NISA KHAN
Senior MiC Editor
ZAINAB BHINDARWALA
Senior MiC Editor
LORNA BROWN
Senior MiC Editor
NA’KIA CHANNEY
Senior MiC Editor
Why I joined MiC:
Christian Paneda
Though there
were fun times
filled with sug-
ary coffee and
banter, the
more serious
moments were
lessons for me
to grow.