Black Doesn't Sell and Other Lies

As I picked up the months copy of Vogue, two things crossed my mind. The first, how Thandiwe went her whole career to date known as Thandie, which she goes in to detail about how the 'w' was dropped to make her feel less different. The second, her learning to embrace her dual heritage and growing up black-British. Both points I felt I could relate to and got me thinking about the small rebellions we can make everyday that can make a difference.

Growing up, I didn't realise how much value there was in my name, like most it wasn't something I often thought about until I went to school and it became obvious there was something different about me. I suppose I hadn't really been exposed to what was waiting for me, the mispronunciation, the name calling, the nicknames and the bullying. Although there are some fond memories, like when we would have a new teacher who would pause and then attempt to say my name during the register and after a while the whole class in chorus would sing my name, as they were equally sick of hearing it wrong too. For so long I felt like it would be easier if I just had a 'normal' name as mine came with its own complications.

In school they used to say anything starting with 'on your' examples include "On ya bike" or "On ya bill". Yeah, primary and secondary school was fun. Then at uni, it felt like the same thing all over again. Having to correct people multiple times, until it just became uncomfortable and I would settle for the next closest thing. Something I'm ashamed to admit has followed me in to my adult life. Some would even be brave enough to ask if there was another, easier name that I went by or that they could call me - this is where I had to draw the line. Once I graduated, naturally I started to apply for jobs and began interviewing, the response was "Oh you weren't what I was expecting" which essentially was a Black Irish girl, as if they don't or can't coexist. Another time I attended a hospital appointment and one of my friends came with me, the Dr called "Stephanie" and without a thought I stood up, said "here" as I walked to greet them. She looked at me with complete confusion but I was used to people choosing a name they could pronounce which often meant them co-opting my middle name. There are so many things unique to my name - texting my name it normally autocorrects to wine, try get Siri or a stranger to pronounce it thats always a barrel of laughs for everyone, the squiggly red line that tells me there is an error, the 'how do you spell that' question which only ever leads to more questions or where to put the fada, if they even bother at all.  

I remember earlier in the year, Love Island contestant turn influencer Yewande Biala spoke out about a similar experience. She mentioned how she would make it her mission for people to know her name as it was important and part of her identity. In her statement the part that resonated most was that names are prominent identifiers that often tell a story of one's ethnicity or cultural background. Which in my case couldn't be more true. My mum is Irish, she chose it and with meaning. My name represents brightness/radiance, wealth and summer (as I was born in July, seems fitting). As I got older I couldn't imagine myself with any other name and wouldn't dream of changing it now, but these stories certainly made me feel less alone in my experience. Although it is often brushed off with the 'close enough' or the 'you know what I mean' I vowed at this point to always be more outspoken when it came to saying my name. After years of settling, these stories combined gave me the courage to follow in their footsteps and take back control. On reflection it also provided an opportunity for these situations to become lessons in standing up for ourselves, which is often imperative for our counter parts experiencing other forms of microaggressions. All intertwined and linked to prejudice, hate and racism. 

Picking up this magazine also reminded me that small actions which can have huge impacts. Often, when we look at what makes a 'changemaker' we think of bigger movements in society. However, the more I've immersed myself in the fashion industry the more I feel actually just being and choosing myself everyday does more than I had realised. 

Studying and working in fashion, we are told so many lies, including "black doesn't sell". I remember the day I heard that so vividly and its something that continued to present itself throughout my career, whether that be outright or more subtle variants. I was so passionate about this subject I based my whole dissertation on the topic, with the aim of disproving this theory. From that day on I made it my mission to always buy whenever there is a black woman on the cover. I know its only something simple but it shows support and goes against the resistance to diversity so many are trying to change in the industry. To the point now these things have become a reflex reactions for me but when I stop and reflect on the moments passed, I see the strength in sticking to my values. Without thought I question things in my job, not only for myself but for other people of colour, especially those with darker skin. I'm not sure if because of everything going on in the world I could just be more hyper aware of myself and my actions but what just feels like everyday things to us, whether that be correcting your name or buying black, these small steps all aid the cause. Rather than feeling overwhelmed by the scale of how much there is to do, start with the things you can control, it starts with you.

Photography by SkyeInFilm