Tears fill my eyes as I read the words on my screen. The world seems to stop spinning for the slightest second as I re-read the anonymous message over and over again, gripping on to the hope that the words will magically disappear. But they didn’t. Anon had done it; they’d figured out that the only way to make me take off my hijab was to call my hair ugly. My one weakness.
A tear streams down my left cheek.
Eight years of academy hijab training…wasted. I had to prove this extremely relevant and good-looking anonymous person wrong, I cared too much about what they thought. How could I live my life knowing that there is one person out there who thinks probably my hair is ugly maybe? How could I look myself in the mirror? How could I face my family? My shoulders shook as I cried silently, and my chair squeaked ever so slightly at the vibrations; as if it, too, was crying in sorrow.
It wasn’t until that moment that the second part of the message dawned on me… how would I prove them wrong without breaking the rules? Was it really against the rules? I reach into my hijab and pull out a scroll. At the very top, in cursive jet-black inked letters, the word ‘Rules’ stares back at me. My heart is racing as my eyes frantically read the scroll.
‘Rule #1: no killing people,’ it reads. I let out a whimper. There go my evening plans.
Suddenly, my eye catches the next words. The scroll is rustling in my trembling hands as I turn my face away, tears spraying out of my eyes like the spit of a white person as they try to justify racism. The cursive words felt more like a curse of words, vivid and refusing to disappear as if I were still staring at them even through my closed eyes.
Rule #2: don’t show ur hair girl it’s ugly lmaooooo
going to cultural fairs is being proud of your heritage. making traditional food is being proud of your heritage. learning a new language is being proud of your heritage. wearing traditional dress is being proud of your heritage.
white supremacy is not “being proud of your heritage”
No one gets mad at a white person that says “Im really proud of my dutch ancestry!” or “I love being swedish we have the best food lol!” or “ Its so cool that im irish i didn’t even know!” The phrases “white pride” and “white power” have nothing to do with the history or culture of groups that just happen to also be white. They are trademarked terms from white supremacist groups. The pride is in being white: the percieved superior race. There is no excuse to use that choice of words when what you really mean is you love spending summers in england because your great great uncle was a duke or whatever. If you use phrases like that in 2016, you know exactly what you are implying.
I see a lot of positivity posts about 12-year-olds just learning to draw. Posts cautioning us to be mindful of 11-year-olds with no grasp of anatomy and 13-year-olds whose characters are all the same person with different hair and clothes, and I love those posts. Those are great posts. Keep those posts coming, tumblr.
But can I ask, what about the 25-year-old who just bought their first ever sketchbook? What about the 32-year-old who’s been drawing for a month and has just about got the hang of a human-looking face? What about the 67-year-old who finally has time to sit down and learn how to paint like they’ve always wanted?
Not everyone starts drawing as a child. Not everyone learned as a preteen. Some people start in college. Some people start when their career is going well and they feel like it’s time for a new hobby. Some people start after they’ve retired.
Not all beginner artists are kids, and I just think the adults ones deserve some encouragement, too.
PkCaramel 