Something I talk about daily and have been aching to write about is representation. What it is, what it means, where it is, where it is not. I'd like my experience to be taken for my personal reaction towards it and then the reason behind my reaction to be considered.
I walked into work a few days ago and grabbed the newest issue of WWD, a fashion magazine my job is subscribed to, and noticed yet another cover, in the stack of 20 magazines, where no one looks like me. And to keep it transparent, I mean Black. I go through the stack of magazines to be sure I am mistaken and there is at least one Black person on the cover. To no avail. I flip through the magazine anyway and the entire inside is White as (h)well, with the exception of a photo of the Obama's with a "goodbye" caption. Oh, and Kanye West's show coverage on the same spread. So I should be happy, right? Sure, this magazine has had Black and Hispanic people on their covers before, I just have never seen them in person so this is not actually about the magazine itself. More so my frustration comes from wondering why I am so passionately thirsty to find myself in this magazine and in the world. It seems as though when I do find the representation I need I am excited and never fail to speak on it. I think had this been normal, seeing myself that is, I might become a little numb to it by now. Alas, I am not. I did not grow up seeing Black men all over magazines, at fashion week, in my favorite TV shows, in movies, in politics, on book shelves, in textbooks, at school, in ad campaigns, on billboards, or anywhere else but in my house and across the street.