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CurlFest-- the event that started it all-- photos from Curl Fest


serving you a slight fit with a cute face.

I couldn't have prepared for the adventure that would unfold.

I'll be honest, the morning of CurlFest I was ready to go back to Texas. I had been in New York for six weeks, and as much as I had enjoyed my time in the city, my mind and my bank account were tired, and I honestly just wanted to stay in that day.

But my travel mantra has always been, "We're already here, so why not?" So I went to CurlFest alone, rode the train from The Bronx to Brooklyn with just my camera, and an open mind.

And I won't lie, I wasn't blown away when I got there. The average person was dressed nicely, but not too many people were killing the game (myself included). I guess I had glamorized the event in my mind. (I had imagined afros the size of trees and AfroPunk fits when in reality we were all just trying to get some free shampoo.)

But like everything in life, the event was what I made of it. So what did I do? I went straight for the dance floor, or more like dance crowd. There was live music and the DJ's were poppin! They played tons of West Indian/Caribbean music, and I won't lie New York is the first time I've felt Nigerian away from Africans. Allow me to explain.

In Texas, I'm black. The majority, Caucasians, don't acknowledge the differences between being Afro-Carribbean, African, African American, Afro-whatever, because once your skin in darker than a gram cracker we all get thrown in the same basket. Now within the diaspora we acknowledge the differences amongst ourselves, but that means nothing to the oppressor who would have to view us as equals to even acknowledge our individual identities. So while I identify as a Nigerian, I will always be seen as black. I say all of that to bring you to my point which is, in New York, the minorities make up the majority and because of that identity and belonging play a larger role in how they navigate their day-to-day life and how people are seen by one another.

As the DJ played Jamaican, Trinidadian, or Haitian songs, I realized I had never heard this music before, and while I moved to the rhythm, I couldn't experience it the same way I did Nigerian music. And oddly, I liked that. As I danced, I watched the crowd experience the music and different groups get excited to their own culture. That moment, was just one of many from the trip that made me feel like my identity was recognized/ important. Or better yet, I felt like I was in a space that acknowledged that Africa isn't monolith.

Once I finished dancing--or trying to dance-- I took some pictures, met new people, and tried to snag some free products. I even made a new friend! The girl to my right in the second photo, I met her at CurlFest, and we even went to dinner together that night. I know that seems like a mundane accomplishment, but to have come alone and left with a friend, makes me feel proud of myself. It's not always easy to step out of my comfort zone, and when it pays offs, I'm reminded that sometimes the best things in life come from when we just take a chance.

Amarachi. Ama. Amalive

---Photos from CurlFest----

@broderickhunter

@missusmonroe

@sym3a

@sheeri_dreambig


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