Thank You, Megan! I Loveeee Youuu!

^ To the tune of Doja Cat at the end of “Get Into It (Yuh).” Below is my personal statement that I wrote to get in to my current Grad program. I thanked Megan Thee Stallion (and got in). Guess being a Hot Girl pays off in more ways than one. 🤪 Anyway, on a more serious note, this essay took forever to write, because I couldn’t figure out what to say. Not to be corny, but I for real started speaking from the heart and the rest followed. And it worked!

(Also, Thank you to everyone that read it over and gave their feedback!!!)

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For & Because. I am inspired because of Solange. Octavia. Issa. Marsai. Zaya. Dr. Maya Angelou. Dr. Toni Morrison. Megan. Marsha. Dr. Angela Davis. Black women give and have given so much to this world. I have to say thank you, but now it’s time for me to carry the torch. Not that I have a certain moral obligation, because we don’t always have to be excellent; but because I know that this is what I was called to do.

During my undergraduate career, I majored in journalism and English. I took courses that were focused on western literature and studied texts white men wrote in the 17th century. During one of my courses, the professor asked us whether works of literature could be deemed as "universal.” While listening to my classmates argue their beliefs, I realized how completely ridiculous that conversation was. These works of literature were written by people whose identity markers are/were not aligned with mine. How was I supposed to relate to any of it? Sure, there are common themes that all humans can relate to, however, for Black people, nothing is universal. After taking this class, I realized that I did not feel connected to my department’s curriculum, and the analyses and papers I was writing for homework just felt like words on a page. As a result, my grades were less than stellar during this time and the content that I was learning did not stimulate me. There was no room for me to grow as a learner or as a person; no room for my creative self to thrive.

Two years out of undergrad and many moons wiser, I find myself trying to figure out what my purpose is and where my power lies in all aspects of my life. I do not have a straightforward answer as to what my purpose is; it could change over time, or it could be bigger than what I imagined. But I know that as a nearly 25-year-old queer Black woman, I am working on taking my power back, on finding my voice, on putting intention into pouring into my creative self. I believe that aligning my purpose with my power will propel me into the next stage of my life. Part of taking my power back is about taking control of what I’m learning. Being in a program such as Africana Studies at the University of Delaware will provide me with a framework that is already crafted around my history and my culture. In addition, it will grant me the opportunity to grab hold of what I want to learn and what I want to study, as it is also multidisciplinary. The four pillars of the department present a well-rounded and fruitful example of what it means to study Blackness, which all directly align with my educational goals.

As a student, I want to explore Black feminist theory through literature and film, however, I refuse to study it from a white, male-centric perspective. Although I can learn basic and technical knowledge from classic filmmakers, they cannot teach me how to properly light dark skin, or what emotions need to be conveyed in the script when adapting Toni Morrison’s Sula to film, for example. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about merging art with activism; how intersectional feminism is a necessary tool in liberating Black people, as well as how that theoretical framework can be used in literature and in visual media.

As I reflect on what it means to be an activist, I realize that trauma plays an enormous part. Trauma is a very large part of our experience as Black people. It seeps back for generations, it influences how we show up in the world today. But that’s not all we have to offer. Part of my thinking about activism is realizing that healing is activism, and creating spaces for Black people to heal is part of activism. What do our stories look like when they’re not focused so heavily on our trauma? What do those stories look like in visual media? In literature? How does intersectionality play a role in what stories are told in today’s society, and how can we use that same concept to change/expand our representation? What stories from our history haven’t been told? How can we show positive representations of Pan-Africanism/the Black diaspora in the media? While there may not be clear-cut answers to these questions, I still seek to find some, and I know that the Black feminists who came before me have laid out a framework for some of these answers. I seek to learn. To study. To apply. To create. To teach. To liberate.

Becoming a historian myself, I realize that our stories as Black people have been told the wrong way. With that, I have created a platform in June 2020 called The Queerlective, a communal space for queer Black people. It not only focuses on our wellness, but is also a space for us to support each other, express ourselves, and tell our stories to each other and the world. This is just a start, but I want to expand the platform, starting with my knowledge as the founder - delving deeper into intersectional studies and how vital it is to understand gender and sexuality on a critical and theoretical level. While I do find my inspiration from the aforementioned Black women in the beginning, I do also find joy and excitement in being able to learn from the Black women in AFRA @ UD’s faculty, such as Tiffany E. Barber and Monica A. Coleman, whose works and research interests greatly speak to my research interests, as well as topics that I can build off of, such as mental health, religion & sexuality, and arts and culture in the Black diaspora.

I am a historian, storyteller, writer, photographer, learner, and thinker. I truly believe in making an impact in the world by showing up for my respective communities. I want to use my knowledge to grow as a pillar in said communities, widening the lens of others, but firstly by widening my lens. I eventually want to complete my studies with a PhD in Africana Studies, all while still using my knowledge to strengthen my craft as an artist and activist on my way there. These studies are vital to my identity as a Black woman. When I think about why I want to study Africana Studies, it’s not just about me. It’s for my future daughters, my nieces, my cousins. My Mom. My grandmothers. My aunts, my sisters. It’s about legacy, past, present, and future.