Black Enough
So where do I belong? How did everyone get here?
Speaker 2:What would you do?
Speaker 3:Chances are you have an opinion.
Speaker 1:Hi. I'm Miah Edwards, and this is Youth on Rewind, a podcast amplifying the voices, stories, and ideas of young people. Happy Black History Month. When Black culture comes up as a topic in popular media or political discourse, it seems like the conversation often centers on the digestible molds created by our white counterparts. These versions feel comfortable, easy to market, easy to stereotype, and box in.
Speaker 1:They're static. But black culture is dynamic. It is not one sound, one style, or even one shade. Black culture is layered, expansive, and deeply, deeply personal. Figuring all of this out has been a long, isolating journey for me.
Speaker 1:My family always considered my interest to be unique and maybe a little confusing. And honestly, I couldn't blame them. I was deeply obsessed with vampires. Team Edward Cullen and Damon Salvatore, by the way. If you know, you know.
Speaker 1:And while my brothers were listening to the hottest music to come out of Atlanta, from Gucci Mane to TI to Lil Jon and the East Side Boys, I preferred music from the fray, Florence and the Machine, and my god, do I love some Lana Del Rey. I grew up in the early two thousands, a time where there wasn't much representation for the black girl I was becoming. The characters who liked what I liked almost always were white. There were no shy black girls who also loved angsty, sad music. I was lonely.
Speaker 1:I didn't see myself in the media I consumed, so I felt a little different. I remember the exact moment that difference became louder. It was in the seventh grade. I attended a primarily black middle school in Marietta, Georgia. And I discovered One Direction.
Speaker 1:At this time, the hot group was a black boy band called Mindless Behavior. Almost all the girls at my school were obsessed. They would fight over Rock Royal and Prodigy, and you couldn't go down the hallway without hearing someone blasting my girl through their Skullcandy earbuds. My friends loved them, so I pretended I did too. Like many 12 year olds, I wanted to fit in, and at the time, these girls felt like the world to me.
Speaker 1:I always struggled making friends, so I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to keep these ones. That was until I heard Zayn Malik singing Little Things. To this day, it is still one of my favorite songs. In the seventh grade, this song shifted something. It felt like the message I needed to be myself.
Speaker 4:And it all makes sense to me.
Speaker 1:So I did what we always did, brought the song to lunch the next day, and showed it to the girls at school. You like those white boys, they asked? And it didn't feel like a joke. It felt like disbelief, like I had stepped outside of an invisible bubble of expectation. We loved to talk about music together.
Speaker 1:It was the bond we built as friends. How was this any different? Their reactions reminded me of my family. It seemed they also thought I was being someone I shouldn't. I am now a 24 year old woman, and I still struggle with wanting to be accepted.
Speaker 1:I stopped faking interest in things, but I often find myself feeling afraid to share what I like with the people around me. Not out of shame, because now I know what I like is dope as hell. I think I finally just got tired of having others' opinions pushed against me all my life. Today, I still happily blast One Direction and listen to Lana Del Rey. And I'm still obsessed with Edward Cullen.
Speaker 1:When I look back, I realize the real work wasn't changing what I liked. It was about learning how to stop shaping myself around who I thought other people wanted me to be. There are so many black kids who grew up loving things that didn't fit, who are called different, who learned early that their interest needed explaining. Today, our conversation begins with a piece from producer Godwin Amuzu, which was recorded in the 2025. Let's dive in.
Speaker 2:I've been called the n word for a really long time. Most of my life, actually. It started in public school. Growing up, I saw this great shift occur, and now everyone seems to embrace that word. Black people in particular, which I guess is a level of ownership I can appreciate.
Speaker 2:I mean, we've always been here, and that word has always been ours to claim. So why not? Yeah. I think a lot of black folks can agree. It's never been easier to call yourself the n word.
Speaker 2:That is a nerd. Wait. What did you think I was talking about? This is a youth podcast. Look.
Speaker 2:It's not a coincidence that the n word and the word nerd both carry a certain weight for people like me. They're both words with deep histories that are just continuing to expand. To understand what it means to be both black and a nerd, otherwise known as a blurred, I interviewed two of the nerdiest people I know. First, doctor Jasmine Harris, the department chair of Africana Studies at the Metropolitan State University of Denver.
Speaker 5:Essentially, they were saying, like, be less yourself. Right? Be less nerdy. Be less interested in weird things.
Speaker 2:I also interviewed my friend Rose, who's in MSU's computer information studies program.
Speaker 4:Like, I would have I don't know if you watched Tokyo Ghoul. One of the jackets that the character wore, I bought one off of Wish. Yeah. And I would wear that jacket every day.
Speaker 2:These two helped me begin to answer the question, what does it mean to be a black nerd?
Speaker 4:I feel like being a black nerd is different growing up. If you grew up as a nerd, you understand the struggles of it, a black nerd specifically, because growing up from both sides, it was always seen as something negative. Like, you weren't acting black enough. Because me, in middle school, I was a very weeby, low kid, otaku kid. And I was lucky enough to find a group that was mostly black, black friends that were into the same thing, so we're all just nerding out in middle school.
Speaker 4:But I saw from a lot of my other peers that were black and had, like, nerdy interests, they would get picked on by other kids, especially other black kids because we weren't cool enough. You know, we seemed too whitewashed, so we had to have our own little tight knit community growing up, which I was lucky to find that in middle school, I wasn't too left out. But some other peers, I noticed they didn't have the tight knit community and it was hard for them to be accepted and integrated into different groups. So a lot of them, I saw they were more alone, but me, I was lucky.
Speaker 2:Why do you think nerd and, like, whiteness because you were talking about whitewashing. Why do you think nerd and whiteness are so, like, synonymous with one another?
Speaker 4:Not sure. I think it's just the way it's viewed in media. Because when you see a lot of nerdy characters in shows, they always tend to be, like, white boy Carl type. You know? Very, you know, neurodivergent, very, you know people who just, you know, see them as just goofy.
Speaker 4:Like, the nerdy trope in media is just goofy. And when people think of black people, they think masculine. So those two kinda contradict each other. You can't be masculine and goofy at the same time. You gotta pick one, and that's people they usually put you in that category when they see you.
Speaker 4:They're like, okay. You're black. They're masculine, you know, aggressive, you know, microaggressions, whatever they throw out. And when they see white boy, they think Sheldon from Big Bang Theory, like nerdy white boy. And those two, they can't really put those two together.
Speaker 4:They think, like, you're either one or you're not the other. But when they see a black nerd, they think you're performing to be a black nerd because they don't really understand that black people aren't just in one box. So I like the new movement that we have where we're more open to just showing people, yeah, we could be nerdy and we could still be hot. Like, we don't gotta be goofy.
Speaker 2:There you go. It feels like we've always had white nerds in pop culture, like Dwight from The Office or Kenneth from 30. But like Rose just said, now black nerds are getting a lot more attention. Just look at DreamCon, an entertainment convention by and for black nerds that only just started in 2018. I can't help but wonder, how did this shift happen?
Speaker 4:Before, it felt like everybody was hiding behind a mask or a persona. So we'd wake up, we wouldn't be ourselves to our friends or our family, especially family, because they didn't get it. They thought the cosplay thing was weird. They thought the anime thing was weird watching shows in different languages or being a teenager and still watching cartoons. They would think it's weird.
Speaker 4:But I feel like now people are more accepting of themselves, so they're accepting of other people as well. Even family dynamics. My grandma knows what anime is now, and she never heard of it a couple years ago. Now all my little cousins are dressing up as Tanjiro for Halloween and stuff. And before, my bush African aunties, they didn't even know what it was.
Speaker 4:Now they're just like, Tanjiro. Whenever they see it, they're like, oh, isn't that Tanjiro? They say it in another accent, which is fun to see that now, black and African communities starting to accept nerdiness as part of just being a kid or, you know, enjoying life.
Speaker 2:The blurred renaissance has arrived, it is oh so glorious. Still, black women don't get to fully enjoy this great shift. Doctor Jasmine Harris at MSU Denver, who we met earlier, she tells us a little more about that.
Speaker 5:So so when I was young, and I and I and I write about this a little bit in my book, one of the hardest things for me about, you know, feeling like I identified like a blurb in an in an era and a community where that wasn't super acceptable, was that I didn't get the reassurance in the classroom that you would expect. Right? And like, and and classrooms were so different back then because they were still I mean, not that they aren't now, but they were still so overtly and clearly racialized, right, in terms of who's who was called on, right, and and whose incessant, like, hand raising was seen as obnoxious versus useful.
Speaker 4:Lot of people now, whenever I tell them my interests, they're like, oh, I didn't know black girls did that, or they're surprised when they hear, like, a black girl likes what I like. Like, how I like anime, I like gaming, raving, you know, flowing because it's synonymous to whiteness, I guess. I don't know. It's just different. They see it as exotic.
Speaker 2:I asked doctor Harris, how do you reconcile the idea that who you've always been is not fully accepted?
Speaker 5:I'm definitely a nerd. Right? But I also sort of had to cosplay an athlete. That that's weird to say because I am an athlete. I am five eight.
Speaker 5:I, you know, like, I ran track and and played volleyball in high school. I played division one women's rugby in college. But it's it's almost like a front. Right? Like, I it got me into spaces where like my nerdiness would have ostracized me.
Speaker 5:And it's almost like a bait and switch for people, right? Because they like think they're getting one person, and then they get to know me and they're like, woah. This isn't what I thought we were getting into. It's like, oh, you like sports? Yes, I do.
Speaker 5:Let me tell you how many tackles all of our offensive linemen had in the game last week. You know what I mean? It's like and they're like, woah, that's not not like that. Right? Right?
Speaker 5:And and so I think for women, especially that there is still a lot of ostracization about that. And and I think that that's where Meg gets a lot of hate. Because it's like, you can't say she's not beautiful. You can't say she's not talented. Right?
Speaker 5:They'll try. I mean, they'll try. But the, you know, Billboard record show us differently. Right? But there's still all of this hate.
Speaker 5:And I think it's because women who are black women in particular who identify as blurreds in this way, tend to come into spaces unapologetically themselves, and that's that's hard for folks.
Speaker 2:Look, this has been the plight of black women for a long time. It's horrific, unfair, and speaks to our society's proclivity for putting certain experiences on the margins. So when I think about the ways in which being a nerd has become popular and accepted, I also think, who's actually represented? Who's excluded? Who feels accepted?
Speaker 2:And why? I'm still interrogating these things myself, and I really don't have the answers. What I do know is that with a word that represents so many people, it's worth asking. Who gets to define it? The conversations I had with doctor Harris and Rose made one thing clear to me.
Speaker 2:As nerdiness expands, you don't have to shrink, tone it down, or play along with anybody else's idea of where you belong. But, hey, don't take it from me.
Speaker 4:Keep being authentic. Everybody needs to keep being authentic. If you like something like it, who cares? If it's not hurting nobody, keep doing it.
Speaker 5:Be willing to to be yourself, and the consequences of that are never going to outweigh the benefits regardless of what people try to tell you.
Speaker 1:The recent acceptance of the black nerd is endearing. It's beautiful to see room being made for the black people who enjoy anime, reading, all of it. Blackness expanding in real time. But even as our interests become more accepted, the conversation doesn't stop at what we like. It extends to how we look too.
Speaker 1:Black hair is another area that can determine your belonging. Our hair is just as wonderful as we are, but finding peace with it and others' perceptions of it can be a journey all on its own. The external process of accepting your hair is often shaped by the pressure to be presentable, mistreatment, and even blatant racism. Internally, the way we see our hair starts at home. It's influenced by how our parents talk about our hair, as well as what they were taught before us.
Speaker 1:At one point in my life, someone in my family made me feel like getting a sew in was the most unsavory thing to do, but I won't name names. So let us shift from interest to image. Up next, we'll hear two different stories about black hair that speak to the ways that our families and the culture that surrounds our loved ones can radically change how we perceive and embrace our own differences. First up, we hear from producer, Jasenia Sutherland, a recording art student at CU Denver, and my fellow podcasting intern in the fall twenty twenty four cohort.
Speaker 6:Hi. I'm Jasenia Sutherland, and I'm an intern at the Youth on Record media arts program. Let's talk about my hair. When I was growing up, my hair was always a topic of conversation. In a predominantly white society, anything, quote, ethnic was often othered.
Speaker 6:My journey with my hair braids my cultural identity in the environments I've navigated. Hair salons became a place where my deepest insecurities and eventually my biggest transformations occurred. From the washing bowl to the chair, it was a mental journey just to get my hair done for the week. As a girl with mixed heritage, I wondered where my hair belonged and if it was ever good enough to be considered beautiful. My family history is rich and complex.
Speaker 6:On my mom's side, we are Puerto Rican. Despite our shared heritage, anti black sentiments were prevalent inside my family. Even though my grandmother was black, she harbored biases that stemmed from the anti black rhetoric she heard growing up as a little girl. She relaxed all of my aunt's hair regularly, and she forcefully chopped my mom's hair to a pixie. Because my mom was the only child that did not inherit bad hair.
Speaker 6:She saw anything that was too outwardly black as unkempt and dirty. So that's my mom's side of the family. Then there's my dad's side. On my dad's side, my grandmother had her own set of biases. She's a black woman too, And she grew up in Virginia in a time when black women were forced to assimilate to white beauty standards, not only to be accepted, but to survive.
Speaker 6:Even after the civil rights movement, she hung on to these self hating thoughts and unconsciously passed them down to my cousins and I. Nappy was a term I heard often in her house. Nappy is the African American version of Pelo Malo, especially when my cousin Tayvon would forget to pick his fro. I remember one Thanksgiving she said, Tayvon, when are you going to fix that nappy hair? You look homeless.
Speaker 6:She would prefer me to have my hair straight as well. She wanted me to avoid more cultural styles, and there's another racist euphemism for you, because she thought I'd be able to navigate the world better by taming my mane. My dad, though supportive, often remained silent during these moments when his mother would berate me for my choices and hairstyles. He harbored his own resentment for how he was raised. He understood the cultural pressures that I was under from his mother, but he didn't know how to counteract them.
Speaker 6:And on the other side, my mom was caught between validation from her family and her desire to protect me. This silence and struggle only added to my confusion. These conflicting messages from both sides of my family left me confused and insecure about my natural hair. The judgment of my hair didn't stop at my family though. I remember kindergarten, awkward conversations between my teacher and my parents.
Speaker 6:My teacher even went as far as to say, you know, Jessenia would benefit from a more simple hairstyle so that she can integrate into the classroom more. Wow. Obviously, this was simply not true. Why would my braids be responsible for my performance in class? I couldn't understand how this adult was so comfortable showing blatant racism and intolerance in front of me, a child who depended on them to learn.
Speaker 6:My only lesson learned here was that to stay on this teacher's good side, I had to try to blend in. As I got older, my hair journey was like a physical manifestation of my struggle with self acceptance. I was constantly trying to fit into a mold that wasn't made for me. When I straightened my hair for the first time, I was nine. It was like a whole new world had opened up to me.
Speaker 6:People at school treated me nicer. The teachers didn't profile me in class. From then on, it became routine for me to straighten my hair And it was a slippery slope. First straight hair, then chemical treatments, then bleach, and so on. I was on a never ending quest to assimilate and seek approval from those around me.
Speaker 6:In middle school one weekend, my hairstylist wasn't able to take me. So I gathered the courage to wear my hair curly. Immediately, was met with stares and questions at school and on the street. Oh, you're trying something different? It looks a bit wild.
Speaker 6:Why don't you straighten it? It looks so much better straight. The following weekend, I booked my appointment six months in advance. I never wanted to feel that way again. High school was a turning point.
Speaker 6:I had started my friend group from scratch the summer before. I just wanted to feel different about myself. I surrounded myself with people who truly cared about me and shared similar interests. Instead of pretending, I decided it was time to shed my mask and grow into my authentic self. I was 20 years old, and I chopped all of my damaged hair off.
Speaker 6:I went from hair that was down my lower back to hair that brushed my jawline. I was forced to look at myself with a new point of view. It was a physical representation of my mission to accept my natural hair. It wasn't an easy journey. Black hair care is a world of trial and error and there were moments when I cried out of frustration.
Speaker 6:But each step brought me closer to self love. Today, I wear my hair naturally curly or straight depending on how I feel. The difference now is that I do it for me, not to fit into someone else's idea of beauty. My hair is a symbol of my journey, my struggles, and my triumphs. To all the black girls listening right now, especially those who feel like planning in is worth being misunderstood.
Speaker 6:I hope this story inspires you to start your self love journey. Embrace your hair, your features, and your culture. You are beautiful just the way you are. Unlearning toxic perceptions about black hair and features has been a crucial part of my transformation. I started to realize that beauty is what you make it.
Speaker 6:There's truly no standard. Connecting with my culture and history has been a bittersweet experience, but it has empowered me to embrace my hair even if to some people, it isn't the norm. Once again, this is Jessenia Sutherland with the Youth on Record Media Arts Program, and I thank you for joining me.
Speaker 1:Jasenia's story illustrates how belonging can feel complicated when the very people who are meant to build you up may be wrestling with their own identity and values. I am so proud of Jessenia for defining her feelings about her hair on her own terms. That brings us to our final story. Producer Akelo Stallings grew up as one of a few black kids in his community in Hawaii. His relationship to his hair took on a new meaning in high school, when he decided to grow out his locks.
Speaker 1:Akelo's story reminds us that our identity and sense of belonging, especially in our formative years, are so deeply influenced, not only by the ways our families show up for us, but also our peers. Akelo produced this award winning story when he was in Youth first cohort of podcast production interns back in the 2022.
Speaker 3:Middle school is a great time of exploration. This is usually the time when we start developing who we want to become as humans and start figuring out the things that we like about ourselves. My parents took this time to convince me to start going dreadlocks, and while never having dreads themselves, they made sure to stress the importance of being connected to your culture.
Speaker 7:Before you were born, dad wanted you to have dreads. Plus, by the time you get to high school, they'll be beautiful and hopefully reflect your good character.
Speaker 2:It'll be a great way for you to build some character.
Speaker 7:Plus, the benefit for you is not having to get your haircut anymore.
Speaker 3:I was pretty much sold after the no more haircuts thing as that was literally the worst part about having hair for me at that age. Having a sensitive scalp and hair clippers did not go very well together.
Speaker 7:Grab the small comb, the beeswax, and a pillow.
Speaker 3:I remember being excited about starting a new hairstyle, but also a little afraid and reluctant as I didn't know what the final outcome would look like. I was already getting bullied at school for being one of the only African American kids, and I knew that if this hairstyle didn't pan out well, then I would just be giving my peers more reason to make fun of me. Having contemplated the very real consequences of making such a heavy choice, I continued to let my mom's voice lead me to the right decision.
Speaker 7:So let's get cracking, man. But let me remind you that dreads serve a purpose and aren't just about vanity. They're probably gonna look whack AF for a minute though. The point is to embrace every part of your journey. Your spiritual and emotional growth are symbolically represented in each lock.
Speaker 7:In the beginning, they will be childlike, but as you grow, the form of your hair will take shape naturally. You may find that you form a bond or connection and start to notice changes in your knowledge and character as your locks grow. Be sure to care for them the way that you tend your mind, your body and your spirit. Understand that they will sometimes be unruly, but stay dedicated.
Speaker 3:We started at the back of my neck on the right side. She made a one inch part, twisted the part, and then clipped it. She made another part, twisted, and then clipped. Eight hours, a 144 parts, and a sore scalp later, I finally had a head full of baby dreadlocks. The feeling of being done with the process was so relieving.
Speaker 3:Not only could I move my body around again, but I was excited to start my new journey and grow as a person. I felt proud knowing that I was picking a hairstyle that had cultural meaning behind it. Realizing that I'd be able to recognize others on their journey, as well as let them know that I'm on my journey too, made me feel a huge sense of belonging. It felt amazing to be learning about these aspects of my roots, and nothing could make me feel otherwise. Until I went to school the next
Speaker 1:day. Hey,
Speaker 7:dirty mop. And Medusa. Looking
Speaker 1:good. I didn't even know they sold burnt Cheetos.
Speaker 3:Looking back at these comments, they definitely had a huge impact on the way I felt about myself and saw myself. Being the only one in a group of people who don't look like you while being made fun of took a major toll on how social I was. Not being able to understand why they were saying the things they were simply other than the fact that they could felt maddening to me, and I didn't really know how to handle it at that age. I remember being so fierce at my mom in the moment for telling me all this stuff about it being a journey just for me to get made fun of as soon as I walk onto the campus.
Speaker 7:What's going on, man? Why are looking so sad?
Speaker 3:They made fun of my hair all day at school, and I don't know what to do about it. Like, I literally don't even want my hair anymore if it's gonna be like this all the time.
Speaker 7:I'm sorry you had a bad day, but this is where you learn to develop thick skin. You can't run from something just because people may poke fun at it. I wouldn't steer you wrong. Plus middle schoolers don't know much anyhow. I crossed my heart double down promise that same girls making fun of you in middle school will wanna date you in high school.
Speaker 7:Bet money.
Speaker 3:Well, fast forward about ten years, and I hate to say it, but my mom was actually right. I still have my dreadlocks going into my final semester of undergrad college, and the connection between myself and hair is stronger than ever. I recently picked up a new routine for caring for my hair, and I think that kind of symbolizes how I'm also still learning new ways to care for myself as a human. I constantly think about how long it's taken me to get to this point, and I can't help but to feel like I made the right choice all the way back in middle school. There's inevitably going to be times in your life where you find yourself in a hard situation.
Speaker 3:This could be because school, family, personal life, or even friends. We're all gonna catch ourselves saying things like, I don't wanna be here or I just want this to be over at some point. When I find myself in these situations, I always turn to what my mother said in that conversation. When you can't look forward the present, look forward to the future.
Speaker 1:Across all the stories we heard, what lingers for me is how often we measure ourselves against the assumptions of others. Whether through labels, hair, or even music, the same question was interpreted. Can I just be me? Even in moments of questioning, none of them abandoned themselves to be more palatable. Through our differences, they proved that black culture is not one thing.
Speaker 1:It's dynamic. It shifts, expands, and makes room. And maybe belonging is not about fitting in but unlearning the idea we ever had to. I am Maya Edwards, and this has been Youth on Rewind. Thank you for listening.
Speaker 1:Original work and scoring for this episode was created by Jasenia Sutherland, Akelo Stallings, and Godwin Amuzu. I produced this episode alongside Lucy Richardson, David Layden, and Ryan Conneroe. Engineering by Tongzhai Li, our executive producer is David Layden, Our theme music was written and produced by Black Key. Learn more at youthonrecord.org or across social media at youth on record. Thanks again for listening, and tune in next month for another new episode of Youth on Rewind.
