Yasmeen in Focus

Fanned Out: Chronicles of Black Fangirl

Mon, 12 Oct 2026 19:37:00 GMT

I am a fangirl. Am I a 27-year-old married woman? Yes. But I will always be a fangirl.

In September, Harry Styles penned an email that both invigorated and frightened fans worldwide. Good news: he added more dates and cities to his tour, Together, Together. Bad news: the cryptic message led fans to speculate that he will be retiring or taking a hiatus in the near future ( a nightmare that I somehow survived in 2015 ). Worse news: I have yet to secure tickets. “I don’t know what comes next for me, but I’m excited to find out”, Styles said . Vague, yet intriguing, Mr. Styles- well played.

Being faced with whispers of his potential retirement forced me to recognize the bittersweet reality that my fangirl fantasy was in danger. The comfort that I have been leaning on for nearly two decades was threatened. Not by anything tragic or malicious, but by time. I go back to the beginning. How did I get here?

In 2011, my world changed. Five teenage boys grouped together by chance and held together by fringe haircuts; One Direction was born. When I heard the iconic “bum- bum- bum-” guitar intro on What Makes You Beautiful for the first time, I was attending a friend’s 12th birthday party. Each girl’s ears perked up in unison, and so it began. “I love Harry!” “Zayn is my husband”, “I think Niall is Irish!”. All of my peers were experts, already singing each word without missing a note and daydreaming together. I didn’t even have a Tumblr account. I was intrigued but unwilling to show my ignorance on the subject. I played it off, and that night in my bed under the glow of the blue light, I learned for myself what all the hype was about.

As a Black child in a predominantly white institution (PWI), I made a lot of decisions based on survival. How I dressed, talked, styled my hair, and the music I listened to was constantly under surveillance. My Blackness positioned me to regularly be on the receiving end of microaggressive or covert racism. I went by a nickname because Yasmeen was “too difficult” for others to say. My teachers would stop lessons because my hair was “too distracting” to other students, so I learned quickly that assimilation meant safety. Adolescence comes with a host of its own challenges, but it is especially difficult to navigate the social hierarchy of middle school with the added pressure of visually being an “other”.

Subscribe now

My journey down the One Direction rabbit hole started as an attempt at social survival but rapidly evolved into my saving grace. Like millions of tweens, I was struck by the infectious melodies, the video diaries, and of course the Louis Tomlinson of it all. I memorized the lyrics. I read fanfiction. I begged my parents to buy me the posters (they didn’t, so I had to make do with whatever magazine cutouts I could scrounge up). The void built from years of assimilation and social isolation from my peers was overflowing with romanticized lyrics and manufactured smiles.

I know the feelings I had for One Direction were partly due to hormones and environment, but they should also be attributed to the band’s strategic marketing and access to the members. I was in the perfect place at the perfect time to buy in on the boyband fanfare. At the time, I truly believed that Niall, Liam, Harry, Louis, and Zayn made music just for me. Not on a specific or individual level, but spiritually. Marketing or not, it healed my soul. But fan culture has a stealthy way of creating a hierarchy that disparages fans of color. Their songs were written to be a refuge for teeny boppers worldwide, but I still felt a tinge of embarrassment when one of their songs played in public as if it were not meant for me.

“Y/n”, an acronym meaning “Your Name”, appears in many fanfics as a tool for the reader to imagine themselves in the story. Usually the author includes enough descriptors to move the story forward but not too much as to pigeonhole the character. “ y/n scooped her luscious locs into a messy bun”. “Harry stared deeply into y/n’s big blue eyes”. I knew that “your name” was never really a placeholder for my name. I knew that the sacred literature housed on Wattpad was not written with me in mind. My curls were not luscious, and I in fact, could not “scoop” them into a messy bun. I read along anyway. This begs the question: can Black children and teens access the same imagined realities of their peers? Subsequently, what is the impact of using escapism as a coping mechanism?

In the music video to their song Night Changes , they visualized the concept of fanfiction by showcasing each member on a perfect date night gone wrong. The video is shot in POV style as a nod to all the y/n’s watching, allowing fans to imagine themselves on a dream date with their favorite member. This concept is one of my favorites in their music video library; it felt like their tongue-in-cheek answer to the fans’ call. Like we shared a secret and they knew exactly what we were up to. While the identity is intentionally left off-camera, the only identifier for the mystery women in the video is their hands and arms. All of which are white. So in both the unsanctioned fanfiction and the official One Direction canon, Black women are not represented. We were relegated to the isolation of the imagination, forced to headcanon our existence in the fandom. My heart breaks a little bit every time I rewatch this video.

Online, the fandom was a community, and we rode for “our boys” simply because we believed with certainty that they would do the same for us. Was it naive, sure, but like those very boys said, hey, it’s alright if it makes you feel alive. IRL, I was ostracized and bullied by my classmates and routinely called a white girl by my own family. If a fandom is a community, then fangirling is the culture. Is there space for a subculture to emerge?

Cue Yasmine Sahid . The influencer and actress disrupts this idea, and popularly films skits poking fun at the very fandom that raised me. Her hyper-nostalgic lens on 2010s internet culture brings levity to something that, at the time I experienced it, felt so serious. Personally, it is healing to see a Black woman using fandom culture to connect others, and reliving the glory days through her eyes brings me joy. She references the lyric videos and poorly edited Tumblr graphics that are all too familiar to me. It is hilarious to me that one of the most recognisable and influential fangirls, a Black woman, does not shy away from fans like us historically being removed from the narrative. It is proof that while I was not represented, my experience was real and my Blackness was intact the whole time. I knew this all along, but being validated feels nice.

Sahid’s reenactments are a modern-day revolutionary expression of joy and nostalgia that reinforces the fact that Black identity is not a monolith. Looking back at that era reminds me that critiquing the culture is not a total rejection but an affirmation that it happened and that it mattered to me. Shamelessly, I cannot promise that I won’t bop my head when I hear a 1D deep cut in public. I am a fangirl. I will always be a fangirl, and like Harry, I too don’t know what is next for me and am excited to find out.

"All the Cool Girls Get Fired", Including Me; Book Review & Reflection

Tue, 03 Mar 2026 17:10:00 GMT

In October of 2025, I was fired. I was surprised, embarrassed, and ashamed. I did not know what to do and I couldn’t silence the self doubt in the back of my head. Did I not work hard enough? What am I going to tell my friends? How am I going to pay my bills?

The emotional turmoil of being let go, combined with the physical threats of losing my primary source of income sent me spiraling. I started ruminating on the choices I had made that led to my firing and replayed every possible outcome over and over again, Will I ever work again?

That same month, Kristina O’Neil and Laura Brown released their book, All the Cool Girls Get Fired: How to Let Go of Being Let Go and Come Back on Top . O’Neil currently serves as the head of Sotheby’s Media and editor in chief of Sotheby’s Magazine and Brown is an Australian fashion journalist. In the autobiographical collection of stories, they detail their experiences after being dismissed from WSJ and InStyle respectively to provide an “unfiltered, comprehensive, GPS guide to rebuilding your career on your terms”.

When the title appeared on the “Audiobooks for You” list on my Spotify, I took it as one of those cosmic signs and thought, this was written for me . I am a woman with ambitious dreams for my future and I needed a reality check. I was coasting at a job that I incorrectly regarded as the “safe option” and when I was fired, my confidence and sense of self were called into question. My natural reaction was to retreat, masterfully avoiding the dreaded, “So, what’s next?” and “What have you been working on?”. However, If two prolific journalists, entrepreneurs, and media moguls can come back from being shown the door, then so can I.

I pressed play and instantly felt represented. The book humanizes the aspect of “loss” in “job loss” and welcomes grief as a necessary step in the rebuilding process. They skillfully blend humor and a matter-of-fact voice to ultimately bring levity to a situation that to many, especially in today’s job market, would otherwise be quite bleak.

The national unemployment rate is 4.4%, for women, 4.2% and for Black people, 7.5%, according to the U.S. Department of Labor . The authors, both white women, briefly mention the racial disparity in unemployment for Black women but do not provide actionable tactics to overcome this in the job search. Their take what resonates and leave what doesn’t approach makes it easy for Black women readers to adjust as needed, a skill we have mastered for centuries. It is after all, a handbook not a bible.

The book details how the shame around firing disproportionately affects women and works to arm them with tools to navigate the psychological and physical burdens of not working. I was reminded of those feelings, the loneliness and destabilization. It’s a disorienting experience once you realize that routines you created and stuck to months or even years would cease to exist. To ground yourself, O’Neil and Brown remind their readers to “own your firing”. Accept the reality of the situation without internalizing any self-destructive thoughts and use your time to evaluate before embarking on a new path.

Part of owning your firing is recognizing that you are not your job and your value as a human is not related to a title or a salary. This is a mantra that I am currently learning everyday. Living in the past is not going to propel me into the career that I imagined for myself, but taking stock of my experiences and all the strengths that come with them could launch me into my next endeavor. One key theme of the book is acceptance, and readers are encouraged to embrace their situation for what it is, an opportunity. Redirection, while sometimes unexpected, can be essential. Making peace with it is a necessary step to welcome new opportunities. I am challenging myself to take pleasure in the pauses, reflect and re-strategize.

All the Cool Girls Get Fired is an incredibly timely and sincere read for any woman navigating a job loss or whose 2026 rebrand includes a new career. Straightshooters, Brown and O’Neil are equally playful and pragmatic with their advice and strike a signature balance between sympathy and strategy.

In this period of resurgence I have learned that it’s ok to not know what the next step is, in fact, there is power in taking advantage of my newfound freedom by opening myself up for all potential futures. The biggest takeaway that I have added to my toolbelt is that I am allowed to shape my next step on my own terms.

Catherine Clark Channels Intimacy with Her Debut Mixtape, ‘Can We Have A Conversation’.

Wed, 04 Feb 2026 17:31:00 GMT

As the war on originality in music persists, it is up to the independent artists of the world to continue to fight each battle. The answer to the conflict between virality and authenticity is intention.

Enter Catherine Clark, a self-taught singer-songwriter, performer, curator, fashion designer, and ethereal goddess who is steadily building a world of her own. Self-described as an elysian and sartorial multifaceted woman, Catherine creates because she believes she is divinely ordained to do so. A mystical wordsmith in her own right, the studio is her playground, but she’s not playing with her pen.

When she is not developing her signature sound or designing custom garments through her fashion house, Iconically Psychotic, Catherine can be found curating musical showcases to highlight underground artists and connect with her community at Night Of The Ethereals, (N.O.T.E).

Her mixtape, appropriately titled, “Can We Have A Conversation” is what she calls, “a collection of therapeutic reparations”, or conversations she has had with herself in an effort to heal beyond the surface. She hopes that listeners will use the genre-bending melodies to make peace with their own past.

“I think it’s so radically bodacious to be like this is who I am. If you don’t like it, yuck foo. And if you do like it, I appreciate you, and I hope that you also are shameless and unapologetic in everything that you do”.

You describe yourself to the world as “Elysian”, what does that mean to you?

CC: I think that I chose Elysian because when I made my song, “Alert”, when I came in, how did the lyrics go? I give a lesson in adoring such exquisite things. If I’m a part of it, it’s going to be evolutionary. Hi, I’m Catherine. Nice to meet you. Here’s the bottom line. Her brain’s prolific and is one of a kind. But I was like, oh, well, if you’re one of a kind, that means you’re elysian because elysian means to be divinely made and I think I was divinely made unlike anybody else that I’ve ever met.

Who do you listen to to enter a creative space?

CC: You know what’s crazy? I actually hate listening to other people when I am creating something. Especially when I was creating my mixtape, so many projects were coming out, right? And they’re like, “Oh my god, have you heard Whoop De Whoop?” And I’m like, “No, actually, I have not”. It would irritate me a little bit, honestly, because I’ve been writing for so long. And not even to toot my own horn, but toot toot, my pen game does go crazy. How other people get inspired by looking at other stuff. I actually get really discouraged looking at other stuff. Then it pisses me off and makes me go harder to write more things of depth and emotion and vulnerability. Because that’s what I feel more people should be inspired by.

What happened between releasing your first song, “The Verdict” and CWHAC? How did you change between projects?

CC: “The Verdict” is the first thing I ever put out. Catherine Clark wasn’t even Catherine Clark when I made “The Verdict”. I think that a lot has changed since “The Verdict”. I still think about it. I recently sang that song at an open mic on Tuesday. But I think that the Catherine Clark now for “Can We Have a Conversation” is just a sprinkle of “The Verdict”. It’s not a conversation with other people. These are all conversations with myself, and I feel like with “The Verdict”, I was having a conversation with somebody else, letting them know there’s nothing left to say after I say this, after I send this four-page letter, after I do these things literally, it’s done. But with the “Can We Have a Conversation”, it’s like, I get you, but let’s get real about it, too.

If your music was a call-to-action, what would it ask of its listeners?

CC: I feel like it would ask you to go to therapy. Even if it’s not like generic therapy. Go to something. Go to therapy within yourself. Do some shadow work, but definitely go to therapy, because all the other stuff is going to happen in the world. But if you are not right within, it doesn’t matter about what’s going on with the world, because your world appears messed up. So that will always be my call to action, because if you met me in person, I would still tell you to go to therapy.

Subscribe now

Your fans are affectionately called Starlets. Where does the name Starlets come from? What makes a Starlet?

CC: I feel like you have to have the same aura of frequency if you’re working with me as one of my starlets. And I feel like that means you are a star in your own right because I don’t do fan activity. So, I feel like if it’s my world and they’re my world, we’re all revolving around it in the stars of my own show. So they’re my starlets. I want them to feel superior as well. I want them to go hard for me, but also go hard for themselves.

N.O.T.E is a performance based showcase to uplift underground artists, why is it important for artists to build in-person communities?

CC: Night Of The Ethereals was always the intention of intimacy and closeness and just being free in a space. I really wanted to be intimate and close-knit because every single person that has ever entered my space or come to one of my shows, I have fed them. I have given hospitality, and it’s always made them want to come back to indulge in more things, to spread word about who it is that I am. You’re learning the backstory behind my songs. I’ll tell you why I wrote this before I get into it. I have my own Genius lyrics moment. Then at the end, I have deep ciphers where I’m going even more in-depth into lore and different things that have happened to me because it makes other creatives more comfortable to do that as well.

When Catherine Clark comes up in conversation what’s something you want people to take away?

CC: First, I want them to be, like, “Damn, shorty is dope”. Then I want them to be, like, “She makes me feel things that I really try to not feel”. I want you to listen to me or see what it is that I do or see my art, and it takes you out of your comfort zone every single time. Or makes you want to jig, but also takes you out of your comfort zone.

What are you focused on?

CC: I’m focused on balance, but the balance of doing things that I want to do, like creating projects, but also my spiritual knowledge. I know that I’m my ancestors’ wildest dreams, right? I do all these things and I’m able to execute these gifts for the world and raise the frequency of the universe. But I think I also need to be more intentional about getting more in tune with all of my spiritual knowledge that I really want to indulge in, in order for my creativity to reach even higher peaks than I could have anticipated, because they go hand in hand for me.

Follow @sheiscatherine.clark and @ iconicallypsychoticltd.co on Instagram to keep up with Catherine Clark. “Can We Have A Conversation” is available to stream on all platforms.

Share Yasmeen in Focus

Resolutions Are Out, Rebrands Are In, and I Am Completely Terrified

Sun, 28 Dec 2025 19:01:00 GMT

The end of the year is approaching and if your for you page (FYP) is anything like mine, you’re being inundated with methods to rebrand your identity in 2026. Resolutions used to be small tweaks for the year to come; make time for the gym, read more, or spend more time with friends. This year, they have evolved, for better or for worse, into a guide to elevate your personal identity and market yourself as a brand.

A resolution is only as strong as the person who made it and there is no consequence to not sticking to it. There is something incredibly wholesome about a person wanting to make a small part of their life better or more bearable while the concept of a rebrand seems devoid of humanity. The connotation alone implies that we are products to be sold for social media validation. Growth is healthy and necessary sometimes but a lot of times, it is ugly, dissonant, and uncomfortable. How can we welcome change without limiting ourselves to an aesthetic? Better yet, how can we ensure personal growth without performing for an audience?

Resolutions

Ancient Babylonians are credited with starting the practice of setting new year intentions that we now call resolutions. “The tradition of making New Year’s resolutions stretches back nearly 4,000 years,” according to National Geographic . “The Babylonians were among the first civilizations to celebrate the start of a new year, marking the occasion with festivals and rituals”.

Centuries have come and gone, however the craving for personal renovation remains strong. According to 2024 data from Pew Research Center, “less than a month into the new year, a large majority of those who made resolutions (87%) say they have kept at least some of them”.

I am moderately superstitious and slightly delusional, so I belong to the camp of individuals who try to overhaul their lives at the end of each year. I recognize that lifestyle changes don’t have to wait until January 1st but, I usually plan out a few resolutions that I want to see from myself. I have started a tradition of making a digital vision board that I set as my lock screen for the year. Some stick and some fall through, I’m human.

Some of my resolutions included; being more consistent in the gym, defining my personal style, and writing more. That said, a cutesy collage is far from a total rebrand.

Rebrands

I have noticed an uptick in creators planning rebrands for 2026, equipping themselves with multistep presentations to ensure commitment to their new self. Then subsequently selling those templates to followers so they can “level up” as well. While researching for this essay, I typed “rebranding for 2026” into my TikTok search engine and was met with, “releasing your 2025 self, defining a 2026 alter ego, and building daily subconscious habits to align with your vision” as a result.

Why would something that is rooted in self-improvement be contingent on creating an alter ego? The end goal cannot be self improvement if the process relies on an individual removing themselves. Your past self is a starting point that should not be erased. Your current self is an amalgamation of your past experiences, failures and triumphs and your future self is a collage of both your past and present. Creating an alter ego and then relying on that version of yourself to hold the key to your dream life removes accountability and credit from the you that set the goal in the first place. All of our future selves are being carved out right now.

I can’t help but think about the 2021 Pixar short, Twenty Something by Aphton Corbin . The short follows Gia on her 21st birthday but instead of celebrating at her first adult club, she spends the night personified as a 1, 10, and 16-year-old stacked in a trench coat. While navigating the insecurity and imposter syndrome that comes with adulting, all three Gia’s fight then flee to the bathroom after being exposed. Gia’s sister reminds her that while adulthood is difficult and sometimes messy, she has already accomplished so many things that she should be proud of and will only continue to impress herself. Gia emerges once again as a 21-year-old, adorning traits reminiscent of each version of herself. In this case, Gia’s inner strength does not come from rebuilding a brand new edition of herself, it comes from accepting the things that make her her . In the end, she presents as a confident, well-adjusted adult who is at peace with her past and is ready to take on her future with ferocity and purpose.

The rebrand trend is creating a point of contention within my psyche because I recognize the value is self-reflection and growth; however, I am side-eyeing any pre-packaged template that promises a better life for all. Resolutions have always been an individual sport, not something that requires group validation. What disturbs me is that the culture around a 2026 rebrand is not about what you want or what you are, it’s about what you can show.

Tracee Ellis Ross said in a 2025 interview with Emma Grede that you can’t know what you want until you know who you are. Ross encourages listeners to specifically interrogate the details of your day to ultimately design a life that brings maximum joy. What do you resent? What are your fears? What already exists in your life that lights your spark? I believe these critical questions are what’s missing from the viral rebranding framework. It is, by nature, private and not prescriptive.

This is not an attack on personal growth or on those who are brave enough to create the life they want. This is a gentle reminder that you don’t have to change on a predetermined schedule because your FYP told you to. Moreover, you don’t have to package your growth for mass appeal because change is uncomfortable and some of the most impactful life changes won’t result in an aesthetically pleasing template.

The act of leveling up perpetuates self-resentment and the push to restart year after year does nothing but promote shame. Do yourself a favor and learn from your experiences. Strengthen yourself from within by pouring into who you already are, not by creating a brand new personality. Rebranding will not make you more well liked or guarantee your success. The irony is that authenticity is tangible and most people can spot a fake from a mile away. Being your authentic, singular self will place you in the right rooms at the right time and will lead you on a path to meet the right people. Meet yourself today with consistency and patience and your flowers will bloom every time.

For me, the goal is not to be unrecognizable. One day, I want my future self to look back at the different versions of me and I hope I can recognize the blemishes, the cracks, and the bizarre things that shaped me. No need to rebrand, just build.

Share Yasmeen in Focus

Subscribe now

Black Final Girls

Fri, 07 Nov 2025 16:02:00 GMT

The horror genre is in a constant state of evolution. Decades ago, you could take a slasher with a theatric interest in blood and pair them with overly-intoxicated, under-dressed teens and you have a cult classic. Now, we are whisked away to lush remote compounds and met with sadistic cult leaders, but it seems like the real horror is the microaggressions that Black women know all too well.

Directorial debuts, Opus and Blink Twice , by Mark Anthony Green and Zoe Kravitz respectively feature Black women protagonists who, despite the efforts of their captors, live to see credits roll. These additions to the horror/thriller genre are redefining the classic final girl with signature skepticism and character agency, and wields racism as another tool against the protagonist. Enduring the subtle racism that is present throughout both films creates a tension that is equally recognizable and horrific.

The final girl trope refers to the surviving girl who faces off with the villain and many times kills them herself. Coined by Carol J. Clover in her 1987 article, Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film , Clover describes some of the defining traits of the final girl as pure, resourceful and intelligent. The audience subconsciously roots for these characters because of their assumed moral superiority. Pioneering characters of the trope include; Laurie Strode ( Halloween ), Sidney Prescott ( Scream ), Ellen Ripley ( Alien ). The trope has expanded to include more complex characters and storylines that do not force women protagonists to qualify their survival with purity. Main characters Ariel Ecton, played by Ayo Edebiri, ( Opus ) and Frida, played by Naomi Ackie, ( Blink Twice ) embody the original characteristics while also navigating the covert racism that obstructs their paths to survival. Final girls, Ariel and Frida demonstrate how racial bias creates obstacles that separate them from the classics.

In Opus, Green successfully creates an elaborate universe that balances the perfectly curated architectural backdrops with ritualistic gore. Ariel is a journalist much like Green who previously served as an editor for GQ . We first meet Ariel when she is at the daily budget meeting at her job where she is silenced by her boss Stan. She pitches an idea for an article which is swiftly picked apart by Stan. He acknowledges that her idea is poignant and would serve as a solid piece but does not entertain her writing it. Her ideas are easily commodified but are seen as not valuable when attached to her. She is the only Black employee that we see. Within minutes, it is clear that this behavior is recurring and Ariel has trouble advocating for herself in work related situations. This introductory scene highlights a widely common experience among Black women in corporate spaces like barriers to promotions and micro aggressive biases.

She and Stan are both invited to the private compound of the elusive pop star Moretti (John Malkovich). While there, they initially attempt to write an article about his upcoming album, Ceasar’s Request, but are slowly entangled in his plot to kill the participants in order to gain more Levelist cult followers. The Levelists are eerily accommodating and Ariel is rightfully skeptical. She voices her concern with the cult and the safety of the guests, however, she is silenced and gaslit despite having seen the threats with her own eyes. Specifically, after the guests are groomed for the listening party, she expresses her concerns to Stan and suggests she write a “companion piece” exposing the Levelists. He rejects this idea and states, “anything important about this place will be in my article.” He is promptly struck by an arrow in the shoulder.

The injury could very well have been an accident but it serves as a cold-blooded reminder that speaking out results in brutal consequences. Her self-doubt only manifests further as she pleads with the others to leave the compound and is once again shut down. It literally takes Ariel stumbling across a dead body before she musters the courage to publicly vocalize her desire to leave the compound; however, it’s too late. She is manipulated by Moretti into attending the puppet show which creepily introduces act three of the film and exposes the murderous plot leaving Ariel as the “sole survivor”.

Eventually, it is revealed that Ariel’s attendance and survival was planned. She was sought out by Moretti himself because he viewed her as a “pure vessel” who could aid in the plot by thoroughly detailing the events in a way that piqued the interest of potential new members. Once Moretti reveals his master plan, we can assume her Blackness is a crucial part in his selection process even though he never acknowledges it. The Levelists even pair her with a Black concierge likely to lower her guard. The same concierge is the one that gives Ariel the window to escape. He knew that given her background as a hungry junior writer she would craft a well written piece with global reach. He also knew that she would be suppressed by the others. Ariel battles systemic and casual racism until the bitter end and her counterparts die as a result of their inability to humanize her enough to take her seriously. She survives in the end but has to cope with the reality that she was an unwilling participant in the machine.

In Blink Twice , Kravitz shapes a world of effortless glamour set on a private island that plays host to billionaires who sexually abuse and torture their guests then wipe their memories daily using a chemical disguised as perfume. Frida, a cocktail waitress, crosses paths with Slater King (Channing Tatum) at a fundraiser and scores an invitation to the island for her and her friend Jess.

Frida is seduced by the idea of being invited to the island because in her daily life she is, or feels, invisible. Like the other women, she enjoys the fruits of the island and goes an unknown number of days or weeks without suspecting anything. She and Jess find it odd that they have to relinquish their phones at the start of the vacation but write it off as “rich people sh*t”. Being seen and desired by Slater makes Frida feel powerful and feminine. Frida is a quirky Black girl who in her everyday life would not necessarily be sought after by Slater King type men. Jess is bitten by a snake and her memories flood back, she pleads with Frida to leave and she declines because she feels “seen” for the first time. This speaks to the reality that Black women face in today’s dating scene that calls into question the colonial beauty standards that posit Black women as both undesirable and hyper-sexual . After Jess’s disappearance, Frida can’t shake the feeling that something is off and attempts to get the others to investigate to which they respond, “who’s Jess?”. The empty gen-z stares communicate that they don’t trust or value what she has to say. Eventually, Sarah (Adira Adjorna) confronts Frida privately and confirms that she also is suspicious of the villa but only after finding marks on her own body.

Blink Twice tackles white feminism through character Stacy, (Geena Davis) Slater’s personal assistant. She is aware of the heinous assaults that take place on the island and has seen countless people victimized but chooses to ignore the reality to secure her own power and safety. Rafia Zakaria’s book A gainst White Feminism Notes on Disruption , compiles evidence on the subject and makes a call to dismantle feminism that centers white, middle-class women. It is interesting to compare Stacy, a rich power hungry white woman to the housekeeper who actually helps Frida despite not being able to communicate with her. Stacy attacks Frida in an effort to maintain the status quo but is stabbed to death by Frida.

Frida faces off with Slater and takes a play out of his own book by lacing his vape with the perfume. The compound goes up in flames and we see Frida drag Slater’s unconscious body out of the flames. The film concludes with Frida, who is now married to Slater and the CEO of his company because she subdues him with the same chemical, looking directly into the camera signalling that she has reclaimed her power in the cycle. This is a direct nod to Audre Lorde’s, The Master’s Tool’s Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House book implying that even though Frida has secured her safety, she may not be free from the patterns of abuse.

Ariel and Frida are final girls not only in a literal sense because they survive but each character adds nuance to the trope that relies on their social position as Black women. They embody the pillars of the archetype with their resilience and adaptability, they also express agency subverting the notion that they must be pure to earn their survival. Ariel navigates a murderous cult and snatches her freedom and goes on the book tour of her dreams only to realize that she only furthered the cult’s reach. Frida survives systemic abuse, gets some blood on her hands and reclaims her power and visibility by using the same weapon against her captors. Both main characters battle doubt, dehumanization, and dismissal proving that the real horror is not limited to the obvious villains but exists in the normalized microaggressions deployed against Black women.

Opus and Blink Twice both expand the horror canon and challenge who deserves to survive. Both films center Black women in a genre that typically ignores their stories and confronts the intersectional struggles of race and gender. Ariel and Frida claim their survival through resistance and self-preservation. With these works, Green and Kravitz turn the final girl into a symbol of reclamation and make survival itself an act of defiance.

Fictional (Weird) Black Girls that Shaped My Personality

Thu, 10 Jul 2025 16:15:00 GMT

I love television. I always have. As a certified latchkey kid, I distinctly remember my daily after-school responsibilities being; taking the chicken out of the freezer and plopping down in front of the big (small) screen. I likely have a bias but my favorite characters were of course the Black girls, bonus points if they were weird. I use weird as a term of endearment to highlight characters that actively subverted stereotypes through character development and personality traits. They were fashionable, goofy, adventurous and different. They were awkward and imperfect, they spoke to me. Each show was a 30-minute reprieve from my daily misadventures at a PWI. Their fictional confidence impacted my real life. I’ve collected their quirks like patches and wear them with pride. Regardless of how much time passes, I find myself revisiting these leading ladies in all their weirdly perfect glory.

Raven Baxter, That’s So Raven

The O.G fashionista and master of physical comedy. Raven Baxter’s unapologetic style and signature catch phrases taught me that nothing was stopping me from being the main character. She navigates the dynamics of family and friendship while humorously hiding her psychic abilities but, this secret identity does not stop her from coming of age with drive and confidence. Raven does not shrink herself in any capacity and often leans into the loud parts of her personality. Elaborate costumes, silly hijinks and bold fashion choices all highlight this characteristic. That’s So Raven may have been the first piece of media where I recognized the body as a political image. Her curves were often a topic of discussion throughout the series but her ambition to work in fashion told the audience that this title character would not be defined by social limitations. Raven showed me that Black girls don’t have to choose, we can be it all; fashionable and plus size, comedic and clumsy, charismatic and compassionate.

Tracey Gordon, Chewing Gum

Born to be an Alyssa, forced to be a Tracey. The main character of Chewing Gum , Tracey Gordon faces her sexual repression with fervor on her journey to lose her virginity at 24. Tracey possesses all of the passion but lacks direction due to her religious upbringing. Her quirky demeanor and optimistic persistence places her in amusing situations that often end with a laugh at her expense; i.e. rushing to the pharmacy for the morning-after pill after a “hand job incident”. Despite this, she remains grounded in her hilarious yet delusional ideology. Tracey’s late transition into womanhood showcases the intimidating and uncomfortable parts of love and sex, but leaves room for the sweet moments. “ I’m a grown-ass woman, I just regularly make childlike mistakes,” she says. Tracey taught me that Black girlhood has no expiration date. We are allowed to have human moments and to embrace the crunchy parts of adulting because they mirror real-life.

Ashley Banks, The Fresh Prince of Belair

She may be the youngest sister of the Banks family but her impact was anything but small. We meet Ashley Banks as an inquisitive and energetic young girl who is extremely close with her older cousin, Will. Over the course of the series she develops into her own person with defined goals and clear personality traits. Being the youngest sibling myself, it was a treat to watch Ashley develop her voice from an innocent child to a rebellious and outspoken teen. Oftentimes we see her challenging the social norms set by her parents and maintained by her siblings. She grapples with self-discovery and expression, privilege, and feminism. Her style evolution highlights her relationship to femininity in contrast to her older sister Hilary’s more traditional luxury style, opting for more grungy modern pieces. Ashley embodies the phrase, “small but mighty”, and taught me that our voices are powerful if we choose to use them.

Miranda Killgallen, As Told By Ginger

Certified mean-girl, Miranda Killgallen holds it down one eye roll at a time. Voiced by the iconic Cree Summer, Miranda brings depth to an age-old archetype. As Told By Ginger aired in the early 2000s following the tween adventures of Ginger Foutley as she navigates middle-school, frequently clashing with popular girls and series antagonists, Miranda and Courtney Grippling. Miranda is fiercely loyal to her best friend Courtney and is driven by perception and status. Ironically, Miranda doesn’t have very many close friends or confidants despite her urge to claim status through her proximity to Courtney. In the short glimpses we get into Miranda’s background, we see that her signature sarcastic demeanor stems from her relationship with her strict father. Her unapologetic iciness is a coping mechanism she deploys against her classmates. Even though she is a villain, it was groundbreaking to see a Black girl utilize humor in a way that was never self-deprecating. Miranda’s arc models a nuanced relationship with insecurity and self-worth that proves she isn’t just a mean-girl. She showed me that Black girls bring layers of lived experiences to every story and that alone is worth exploring.

Libby Folfax, The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius

Serving as the voice of reason in her quintet of friends, Libby Folfax elevated from a sassy background character to a pivotal part of the core group. The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, Boy Genius follows Jimmy and his friends as they navigate sci-fi scenarios with the help of his high tech expertise. Libby grows into her own and we see her develop into an invaluable asset to the crew. She is smart, spunky and honest with interests spanning gadgets, fashion and music. A notable moment in her character development occurs when Libby undergoes a makeover in the episode “Beach Party Mummy”, here she ditches her teal dress and straight ponytail for natural twists that reflect her Egyptian heritage. She rocks this style for the remainder of the series visually indicating her maturity and self discovery. Libby exudes visibility and confidence in a show that could’ve easily overlooked her story. She represents the everyday Black girl and the unlimited potential of the young mind.

Subscribe now

Media Mentalist: Coping with Anxiety as a Digital Creator

Tue, 10 Jun 2025 15:48:00 GMT

Scroll. Heart. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Heart. This is the natural rhythm of my phone screen anytime I have the urge to post on social media. The process begins by opening my photos app and sifting through all 8,304 pictures, and counting, to select the frames that best represent my life at the time. Perfectly edited colors, aesthetic flatlays, a group photo that proves how likeable I am in real life and a caption that communicates my down to earth nature. Something that used to be composed of silly check-ins and dog filters is now a well oiled machine that, if executed correctly, can skyrocket independent creators out of obscurity and into the belly of digital entrepreneurship. The burden of potential weighs me down and I am forced daily to contemplate my own ambition and question where it is taking me. I have always aimed to make a substantial impact in the media using only my creativity and natural skepticism. I have heard countless times that “journalism is dead”. I have heard an equal amount of times that “It’s the best time to be a freelance/ multimedia/ entrepreneur/ content creator/ videographer/ journalist”. How I market myself on social media can affect the reach, quality, and impact of my work, but is it possible to silence the incessant anxieties associated with social media content creation and build a viable career?

As someone who is on the creative professional pathway, I understand the importance of consistent brand building across social media but I struggle with how to center my story. The anxiety of labeling myself and thus carving out my niche is debilitating. No amount of self-help podcasts or diaphragmatic breathing can control the spiral that I have recently embraced as inevitable. In my world, your social media profiles are your calling card – living portfolios that have the potential to market your talents as an independent contractor or entrepreneur. However, I find myself ruminating on the fear of exposure and perception from others. I know that what my brain perceives as a risk, (hate-comments, failure, cyberbullying) can lead to a fulfilling reward (exposure, community-building, fulfillment) , but I am currently developing my personal strategy on how to get my creative voice to outweigh my anxious voice.

I was taught to be a “backpack journalist”, to gain expertise in each facet of broadcast and multimedia journalism so as to best market myself for potential publications and editors. One day I was a reporter, the next, a podcaster, and on any given day I might’ve been a writer, editor, producer, videographer, gaffer, audio technician or whatever was needed from me. I took comfort in my chameleon identity and was certain that I would land on my feet no matter which way I fell. Well, I have fallen and it seems that the only way to get back up is to single handedly champion a media empire and in theory I have all the tools at my fingertips. Embracing social media as a tool is easy, incorporating that tool into my burgeoning career at times however, feels impossible. Post the most engaging verticals, edit the most aesthetic carousels for consumption, be relatable and humorous, be your biggest fan. Cue anxious tummy ache.

This process seems so paralyzing to me because I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) – a condition characterized by persistent and excessive worry in daily life. My tendency to constantly worry clashes with my personal ambitions and oftentimes, leaves me frozen doom scrolling on my phone. Do I look okay in this photo? Is this caption too cringe? What if I can’t make money? Is this a waste of time? These thoughts live rent free in my head contributing to the many categories that fuel my worry. The fear of being “cringey” has murdered true creativity and I am on a mission to actively subvert this notion.

I have found that the root cause of this particular anxious fixation is comparison. Social media apps thrive off of users comparing, commenting and engaging with each other. It is well known that excessive social media use can lead to depression and anxiety, especially in young adults. The algorithm knows me well enough to show me all the profiles of “people I might know” but I can’t help the comparisons that I make. When I engage in comparison it usually encourages negative self-talk. The anxious voice tells me that what I have to contribute is not worthy or interesting, it convinces me that my time is better spent not creating because “who is going to care anyway?”. That voice is a liar. It preys on fear and frankly, must be told to “shut the f— up”. I shut the voice down by centering authenticity and leading with heart. If I create something I’m truly passionate about, then the crowd’s opinion shouldn’t hold as much weight—because I know it resonates with me, and that’s enough. To redirect my thoughts, I remind myself of the following; My voice is valuable. The world needs my art. My anxiety does not control me.

The nemesis to anxiety is action, so, to overcome the pressure of posting and exposure or the looming career downward spiral, I have to regain control with small steps:

Plan my content so I don’t have to stress about posting.
Film in batches and double dip to get the most out of the content.
Source inspiration outside of social media so I don’t fall into the comparison trap.
Give myself grace and self-compassion.
Remember that trends are suggestions, not rules.

Even though I struggle with anxiety and anxious thought patterns relative to content creation, all is not lost. Anxiety is a natural human phenomenon that can sometimes help us, other times it leaves us with feelings of immense helplessness, myself included. Another natural human occurrence is creativity, endless possibilities and ideas unique to each of us. While the two don’t always go hand in hand, the former does not have to deter the latter. Meeting anxiety with action to reframe my thoughts not only eases the psychosomatic effects of anxiety but moves me closer to my ultimate goals. Identifying my triggers and planning accordingly encourages me to set achievable goals and acknowledge how far I’ve come.

At some point, I had to ask myself: who am I creating for? The metrics, the algorithms, the constant comparisons, none of it matters if I lose sight of my voice in the process. Coping with anxiety as a digital creator isn’t about pretending it doesn’t exist; it’s about learning to move forward in spite of it. I’ve come to understand that showing up with intention, even if imperfectly, is more sustainable than chasing virality. When I center authenticity over aesthetics and curiosity over control, the work feels lighter, truer. Maybe the goal isn’t to silence the anxiety completely, but to create in a way that makes space for it, acknowledges it, and chooses expression anyway.