It’s hard to stay hidden when you’re the only brown girl in the room.
I can’t slip into the background and hope no one notices me. I can’t rub my skin color away and blend into the sea of white.
It’s hard to stay hidden when you have big, unruly hair that takes up space.
Even at 5 feet 1 inch, I know I’m making a statement when I walk into the room with my hair completely undone and au naturale. I’m not sure what the statement is, but you’re sure to notice me and my lioness mane.
I spent my teenage years learning how to hide myself so no one would notice me.
I had newly migrated to the U.S. and I didn’t know the rules—what kind of shoes were in, how to order at Starbucks, or what to do with my giant hair. I didn’t speak up in class when I knew the answer. I turned down my spunk so peers wouldn’t notice my awkwardness and discomfort. I hung my head low because I felt shame for taking up space in someone else’s land.
In college, I coasted through four years of “You’re my first Indian friend” and “Say something in Hindu.” I dressed like my peers—the Birkenstocks, oversized flannels and beanies—and yet I stood out. And yet, I was another brown body to my friends. And yet.
When I invited few of my friends to a garba (an Indian dance event that’s held during the festival of Navaratri), one friend whispered to me, “I feel like everybody can notice I’m white. I don’t like this feeling of standing out.”
This is how I feel every day at school, I thought, but failed to say out loud.
My friend felt this way for two hours. I spent nearly every day with that feeling.
I can’t rub my brown away. I can’t slip away in a sea of white when it’s convenient.
I can’t hide because I want to.
The process of undoing shame, of reclaiming space and owning who and what I am is a long journey. I’m still in the middle of the journey—slow to speak, quick to listen, bursting with curiosity.
These days there’s a voice that’s leading me from hiding, prodding me to reclaim my space. Perhaps the most dangerous act of resistance I can practice is to heed to that voice, no matter what the consequence.
Today, I let my hair down. It was big and unruly. It took up a lot of space.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I considered tying my hair up. Then I remembered my teenage years when I so desperately tried to fit in, be invisible and hide. No more, I thought to myself.
So I chose to let my hair down. I dared to take up space. Even though it felt uncomfortable, I didn’t want to hide. This is my liberation song for today.
Leah is a storyteller + writer + journalist + creative + empathizing romantic + pessimistic realist + millennial + immigrant + ISFP + Enneagram type 2 + she/her + much more. She grew up in India and relocated to the U.S. in her teens.
Leah used to be a community newspaper journalist who covered local government, schools, crime and business news (but NEVER sports). Currently she lives in Virginia and works at a university. Her life’s calling is to be a cat mom and decolonize the world around her.
