Flashes of Life

I walked to the public transit after work as I always do, taking in the tepid afternoon air and the freshly planted tulips, passing the familiar DC buildings, and glimpsing a few familiar faces as I normally would, when I realized that the World Bank was in full swing of their Spring Meetings. True to form, their downtown buildings were bannered with welcoming marketing materials and covered with strategic messaging to ensure that the commuters know what is happening. However, I casually skimmed the verbiage on one of the colorful signs to find that the spring meetings were targeted at strategically tackling poverty; positive, you would think. To my breath-taking dismay, the sign next to it was colorful in more ways than one. The image depicted a women of African descent, with skin as beautifully chocolaty as rain-forest cacao itself, wearing a golden headscarf. I stood frozen, encased in ice at the representation of myself, homeless, poverty-stricken, a stereotype. Rage engulfed me from a place of selfishness, when the idea of reversing poverty should bring me to a place of selflessness. I was slapped with this idea that my face, my head scarf, and those who share a similar culture as I do are the defining face of poverty. These are the days that inspire me to seek truth and spread it like melted butter to inform the ignorant and self-proclaimed educated minds of the world that a narrative is being crafted that does not nearly mirror that which actually is. I am not saying that there are not underprivileged countries in Africa or poverty-stricken brown communities right here in the U.S. However, two of the world's largest poverty populations are larger than the entire continent of Africa. These statistics, in stark contrast with the depiction of brownies like myself, begs the question, why are big businesses steady spending money on marketing images of "hand-to-mouth black people", instead of investing in economic stimulus program for those in need? I have not been as charitable with my education or my resources as I could have been, but I consider this my mistake due to the fact that I am unsure, bringing me to the conclusion that we have to stop waiting for the full-picture to be complete before we display our art. Strolls home like this day, let me know that I have a voice, ideas, and a spirit that won't let me quit. I just need to find a space that's fitting for this education of cross-culture studies, and a few ears that are willing to listen. Consider this; the things that get so deep under our skin are not by chance, but a push from the universe to seek further clarity of ourselves and the world around us.