Host: Jodi Powell
Jodi: [00:00:03] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm your host for this week, Jodi Powell.
This Black History Month episode, we're talking about a word one can describe as loaded, beauty. We have two stories for you today. Both deal with some of the first interactions our storytellers had with beauty standards and the ramifications that had for them.
It got me thinking about a moment from my own childhood. I entered my first pageant at nine years old when I was living in Jamaica. It was never explicitly called a beauty pageant, although I'm sure that word was thrown in there somewhere. But it was never really that for me. I really had no idea what beauty even was at that point. The pageant for me was more like a talent show where you got to wear your casual shorts and sing the song you liked. When I decided I wanted to do it, my whole community got involved.
My mother was an English teacher at the local high school, and the class helped me memorize my talent song. And my brother took care of showing me how to walk in my patent leather Mary Janes. The day of the show, they all showed up and watched me take home the big prize at the end of the night. It really was a great feeling. The boys went hollering through the streets and woke my grandmother up to tell her the great news, and I went home with my gifts. As I unwrapped them one by one, I discovered porcelain and plastic dolls with blonde hair and blue eyes that looked nothing like me.
This moment in my life raised a lot of questions for me. The message wasn't explicit, but after working so hard on something and receiving these dolls as prizes, the message was clear and loud to me.
Our two storytellers this week reveal their own journeys in the world of beauty, images and statements. Our first storyteller is Kujegi Camara. Kujegi told the story at a virtual Moth community showcase this past December. The theme of the night was Point of No Return. Kujegi told this story from her living room. So, while you might not hear the audience, know that we were all cheering her on from home. Here’s Kujegi, live at The Moth.
Kujegi: [00:02:16] The nurse walked in and handed me my daughter. She was wrapped tightly in those hospital blankets, you know, the ones with the red and blue stripes. I drew her near to me, put her close to my chest. I wanted to share my warmth with her. She was so small, yet so beautiful. I immediately looked for her fingers, and I took my pinky and wrapped it around hers and I just held her. And then, it hit me that I'm actually a mother. Me of all people, I still have so much growing up to do. Can I take care of this being, this gift that God has given me?
My daughter looked up at me. I saw how vulnerable she was in that moment. Completely dependent on me of all people. It got me thinking about my first vulnerable moment. It brought me to third grade. In third grade, I was super nerdy. You can argue that. Maybe I still am. I loved rainbow-colored sweaters, and one-piece hijabs and high-water pants. That was definitely my flow. I love school. I love school, because school brought me poetry. It brought me words.
My third-grade teacher first shared with me what poetry is and what poems could bring you. Loving school, and it was where I was the most comfortable. It was where I felt that I could be my full self. And naturally because of that, I was definitely a teacher's pet. I loved running errands for my teachers, just doing whatever they wanted, being in their good graces.
It was a regular day and I was running another one of the errands for my teacher. She asked me to deliver a stack of papers to a nearby teacher, a couple of doors down. I enter into the classroom and I hand over the stack of papers to Mrs. G. The classroom is bustling. Kids are all talking. There is a big group of students in the back of the classroom seated on a rug. I am on my way out. I'm about to leave, when suddenly I hear a girl shout across the room, "She is so ugly." I just stood there in that moment. I felt her words creep into my skin, and I froze.
I don't really remember much of what happened. I just remember me leaving the classroom. I remember my walk back to my own class. The hallway. It was so lonely, so big. I felt so small, so alone. All I heard was ugly, repeating, repeating, repeating. The silence was deafening. There was nobody there to counter that. Her words followed me. They followed me everywhere I went.
When I looked into the mirror, when I wore my hijab, they were there. They were staring back at me. They were mocking me. They were laughing at me. I believed they were true, because I believed that if she had the audacity to yell out across the room and nobody said anything, then she clearly was in the right. Years later, many, many years later, I still couldn't shake it. I would see her words pop up everywhere I went. But I decided that I needed to confront her. I needed to face her on head-on. I needed to confront her in the only way that I knew how, and that was through poetry. That was through words.
And so, I am on stage. I am in front of an audience, and there is a mirror in front of me. I am performing my poem called Third Grade. And I say, "Let go. Let go of the girl in third grade. Let go of the mirrors you don't like. Let go. If you don't love yourself, nobody else can." And in that moment, it hit me that I am beautiful. I took my pen and I rewrote it across the mirror. I crossed out her words and I put a period where I said, "You are beautiful." It was okay if no one affirmed it. It was okay if no one said anything after that that as long as I said it for myself, that’s what mattered.
I did it. I finally faced the girl in third grade. Many, many years away from the hospital scene, my daughter and I have gotten older, but I still find every day to tell her she's beautiful. I tell her every morning just the way I did the day she was born. I tell her she's beautiful, because I want to fill her up with words, with beautiful words, so that if she ever had a third-grade moment like mine, they won't cut so deeply.
My daughter is three years old now. She's a sassy little one, full of huge personality and she loves to get dressed. She wears beautiful African clothes. I want her to stay that way. I love her for who she is. Occasionally, she'll get dressed and she'll come stand in front of me, "Mommy, am I beautiful?" I'll scoop her up, and I'll put her on my lap, and I will put her head next to my chest and hold her just the way I did when she was born, even though she's bigger now and she tries to squirm away from me. I look for her pinky, a little bit bigger now, and I put it next to mine and I hold it. I look into her almond-shaped eyes and I tell her, "Mama, you are beautiful just the way you are." Thank you.
Jodi: [00:09:01] That was Kujegi Camara. Kujegi serves as the program manager of the Community Engagement and Youth Leadership Development at the Muslim Community Network. She's passionate about creating meaningful connections across different platforms, entities and people. In her personal time, Kujegi loves writing poetry and giving back to her Gambian community by mentoring young West African Muslim women on their journey to college. And you will hear more from Kujegi herself at the end of this episode.
Nyla Gilstrap is our second storyteller. Nyla told the story at a high school GrandSLAM in collaboration with an education program. The theme of the night was Before and After. Here’s Nyla, live at the event.
[cheers and applause]
Nyla: [00:09:58] Okay. So, two summers ago, I was on my way to summer camp. This wasn't going to be my first time, it's actually my sixth time but it was the first time that I was coming late, so I had to get picked up from the airport by a camp counselor. So, I get directed into this white van, and I'm there and the counselor tells me that another kid is going to be joining us. I later find out that his name is Benny, and that he is so cute.
I immediately develop the biggest crush on him. He has this scruffy blonde hair and he's cracking me up the whole ride there. I don't know if I'm just laughing, because what he's saying is funny or because I'm trying to be flirty, but either way, I get to camp and immediately everyone knows that I have a crush on Benny.
So, inevitably, a couple of days later, he finds out too. When my friend tells him, and he responds, "Oh, I'm not really interested or attracted to black girls." So, you can imagine what that would do to a 13-year-old girl's confidence. I felt so ugly. I remember running into the mirror, and looking at myself and seeing that the New Hampshire sun had fried my curly hair and my skin had gotten so dark. I thought that was beautiful, but I guess it wasn't. I was just so confused. And like I said, I felt so ugly.
So, last summer, I decided to take a leap of faith and go to Barcelona for a month on a Spanish immersion program. My brother had done it before, so I knew a little bit about it but he had gone with a friend, and I wasn't going to be going with a friend. So, I get there, and I'm sitting in this place called El Mapache, which is in the basement of the residency, and it's where everyone hangs out. So, we're all just hanging out there, and this one girl comes down the stairs and I recognized her from Instagram, because she also goes to school in New York City. She introduces herself to me as Cosi. And then, another girl who sits to my left, her name is Emmy, and she's from Los Angeles.
So, the three of us just immediately become the Three Musketeers, the whole summer. Emmy's white. She's from Los Angeles. And Cosi described herself to me as being black. No cream, no sugar. So, that's when I knew that we were going to be best friends. So, we just went on these random adventures. So, naturally, when we heard about this cliff in Barcelona where you can see the whole entire city, we were like, "We have to go." So, we travel an hour-and-a-half bus ride and this weird hike up to the cliff. We're looking out at all of the city, and it's so beautiful.
And then three guys walk up to us, one blonde, one brunette and one redhead. We later find out that they're Australian because of their accents, and they're all weirdly muscular. They tell us that's because they play rugby. So, we're like, "Australian rugby. So foreign. So cute. Oh my God." [audience laughter] So, Cosi and the blonde guy really hit it off. He was the cutest. She was doing her thing, flipping her hair. She's very outgoing and very gregarious. Me and Emmy were just watching on, like looking at the whole interaction in amazement. So, he was like, "Oh, we should exchange Snapchats. Let's hang out one day." And she was like, "Oh, yeah, definitely we should."
So, when we get back to the residency, we explain to Cosi the ground rules. Because we're 16, these guys are probably in their 20s, we're in a foreign country and they're strangers. So, we're like, "When we meet him at the hostel a couple days from now, we're going to be a couple blocks behind you the whole way, just keeping an eye on you so nothing goes wrong." And she was like, "Okay, yeah, that sounds great." So, the day arrives, and we're at this guy's hostel and he comes down the elevator and he says a very polite hello to me and Emmy, but really, he's just staring at Cosi the whole time. Somehow, she already has him wrapped around her fingers.
So, they're walking. The streets are super busy. But Emmy and I tell each other that as long as we look at her big, poofy bun, we're going to be fine. So, we're walking and we're staring at the bun, we're staring at the bun and the bun's gone. I turn to her and she knows the bun is gone, because her face is bright red. Ee don't even want to think about what the consequences of losing our 16-year-old friend with a 20-year-old stranger in a foreign country where we don't speak the language would be. So, we decide to just go back to the hostel and wait it out. Because Cosi knows that she needs to be back at 10:30. So, thankfully, she strolls in at 10:30, and the guy says a very polite goodbye to Emmy and I again. But he's just staring at Cosi the whole time, and they share a little kiss and he goes back upstairs.
And so, we're waiting for the bus outside the hostel, and Emmy and I are just dying to hear the details of the date, "How did it go? How did it go?" Cosi was like, "Okay, calm down, calm down. It went really great." And we're like, "Okay. Well, tell us a little bit more." She turned to us and said, "He called me beautiful." And I was like, "Oh, what do you mean?" And she was like, "He looked at me and said, 'I think everything about you is so beautiful. I think your hair is so beautiful.’” And Emmy was like, "Oh, that's so sweet." But she didn't get it.
Because at this point, I'm on my knees in the middle of the street, crying my eyes out, just bawling. I don't stop until I'm in bed at the residency, because it wasn't that I needed a white guy to tell a black girl that she was beautiful to believe it. It was the fact that she thought nothing of it. Like, "Yeah, I know I am. I'm always going to be black with a little bit of cream, and I'm always going to be rocking my own big poofy bun. My perceived beauty isn't going to be despite my blackness. It's going to be because of all of me, which includes that." Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Jodi: [00:15:25] That was Nyla Gilstrap. Nyla is a high school senior in New York City. In her spare time, she enjoys hanging out with friends in Central Park and playing lacrosse. In the future, Nyla hopes to write for The New Yorker, but is currently enjoying writing for her school newspaper. You can check out photos from Nyla's trip to Spain in the Extras for the episode on our website, themoth.org/extras.
After listening to both Nyla and Kujegi's stories, we were so curious about what these two incredible women might say to each other if given the chance to discuss their shared experiences. So, the three of us hopped on Zoom to talk about their stories, their conceptions of beauty and where they are now. Both Nyla and Kujegi's stories had big time jumps in them, from when they first began their journeys with beauty to where they left off. So, we start our conversation at the beginning, with their sense of self and the earliest thoughts about what it means to be beautiful. Here’s Nyla to kick us off.
Nyla: [00:16:30] I think for me it was really young. When I started to think about beauty, just because, you know, I'm a Black girl who goes to a predominantly white school. My mom, like in your story, Kujegi would always say like, "You're beautiful. you're beautiful." And I was like, "I don't know why she's telling me this so much," but I think she knew consciously that I was getting opposite messages.
So, when I got to camp, I think hearing Benny say those words, "I'm not interested in black girls," just put a whole name to it. It was like tangible now. It wasn't just this little feeling that I had, this inkling that I wasn't beautiful. I was able to identify it, which in a way, I was like, "Thank you for just putting it out there so now I can deal with it." But in another way, it made it so much harder, because I knew this wasn't just in my head.
Kujegi: [00:17:15] I mean, so much of what you've said, Nyla, definitely resonates. I think there's a question about what is beautiful, right? Because even for me, when I tell my daughter, she's beautiful, sometimes I have to kind of stop myself and say like, "What do I really mean though?" Calling my daughter beautiful, I feel similar to your mom now. Like, I feel I have to do that. I think that's my duty. But I also think it's because I believe it. But then it's like, what meaning of beauty am I sharing with her I tell her that.
Nyla: [00:17:50] Right. I think there's always this dynamic between mother and daughter, where it's like, "You're my mom. You have to tell me that." But also, every time she would tell me that, I'd counter with like, "But nobody likes me." So, it was very much me twisting what beauty is into beauty means being desired. I think I had to realize that that wasn't what she meant.
If I did something that had nothing to do with the peers, it's like I gave a talk at school or something like that. And she'd be like, "I'm so proud of you," and have a conversation with me about that. She'd tell me I'm beautiful, like mixed in that. I think that's when I started noticing that she didn't just mean my face. Obviously, she meant what I did today, or how me helping people is beautiful in its own way. And that I care about my friends. She twisted the meaning a lot away from appearance into personality and things that you do and things that she was proud of me for doing. And that helped to create my own concept of beauty that really strayed away from desirability and appearance.
Jodi: [00:19:07] Right. I think that's a wonderful segue, because I was about to ask, what is your concept of beauty? Like, how is the word beauty discussed around you? I'm really curious to hear what you think about that. You want to go for it, Kujegi?
Kujegi: [00:19:21] There's so much to parse through and to think about, because I do think for a long time, for myself, beauty did mean being desired or being liked. I remember, like, after this incident in third grade, I didn't really have a positive association with beauty until I started writing poetry. And then, people would call my poetry beautiful. They'd be like, "Oh my God, that was so beautiful. You have a way with words." But I think the little girl in me would be like, "Okay, you guys are always saying that I can do beautiful things. I can write beautiful poetry. Why can't I be physically beautiful as well?" I think that's literally my tension with beauty.
Jodi: [00:20:16] Kujegi, you guys keep making beautiful bridges from one thing into the next. You just established one, which is where I'd like to go with you is on stage, right? When you take us to the stage and we understand that there is a mirror that you're looking in and an audience present when you tell that story for the first time they're in college. My question in particular is, why did you think you had to face that moment in that way? It was very public. It was very intentional. Yeah, I really am just curious about it.
Kujegi: [00:20:54] My relationship with poetry is I can memorialize words. And so, I knew that the only way I could work through these complex feelings I've had about third grade and about beauty, I could have only worked through it in poetry. But I think the decision to go public and just do it on stage, do it in front of a mirror, was because I had very private moments with the mirror. Every day, I'm in front of the mirror, I'm doing my hijab, I'm getting ready to go out or whatever.
And so I noticed that when I was in my private spaces, I would take selfies, and maybe I'm going out with friends, or I just got a new hijab. And I would actually enjoy taking the selfie. I would enjoy taking the photo. I'm like, "Okay, I look good, right?" We should [chuckles] say that to ourselves. But I can't do that in public. I think it has to do with a very public way that I was told I was ugly. And so, I felt like the only way I could kind of work through that is to do what I do with my selfies in my room to do that on stage and be okay with the silence that comes after that.
Jodi: [00:22:10] Wow, fantastic. Nyla, do you have anything to comment on? Anything you'd like to add to that? Is there anything that you can relate to in what Kujegi just said?
Nyla: [00:22:20] Yeah. I think also the way that you talk so publicly about this experience on stage made me think about the fact that black women believing that they are beautiful is like a protest in and of itself. Like, it is such an act of resistance. Like, you are actively fighting against the system and just simply believing that you are beautiful and believing that you have something to say. And so, you just performing that story was not-- It wasn't just something that you were doing for yourself. Like, that was a protest, a beautiful form of protest. That's just something that I think about often, is me taking care of myself and believing in myself and thinking that I am beautiful is fighting against forces that are keeping us down actively.
Jodi: [00:23:08] Wow. I'm giving snaps for all those that are wondering what I'm doing.
I'm giving you all the love for that. I think I'd like to close in asking. If we're considering beauty to be redefined, right? So, it doesn't have to be mascara, lipstick, hair, nothing physical. One thing that you do, something that makes you glow inside and out.
Kujegi: [00:23:31] I think for me, I need to get back into writing, but I feel the most beautiful when I'm writing.
Nyla: [00:23:40] I know it's a tough question, but I think I actually feel the most beautiful when I'm learning probably. I have that glow when I learn something new and I switch perspectives.
Jodi: [00:23:52] I really, really appreciate. Oh, this conversation. We talk in The Moth all the time about telling stories from your scars and not your wounds. That means you have a little bit of separation from the conversation and you're going in and really-- You can really look at it from a place. I think these stories are beautiful, but they have so much hurt in them. I think there's so much vulnerability in the stories that you've presented. But there's also so much light and there's so much to just really think about and know that this is a continuous process, right? So, I just really, really want to thank you, both, for being on this journey with me. It's been very, very fulfilling.
Kujegi: [00:24:32] You know what you said, Jodi, about there being hurt in these stories, but there also being light. I think there's also an interesting take on beauty, it’s like how you can nurture that light and that glow we've been talking about and how that can coexist within these dark spaces. I think black women, they find those lights anywhere. I don't know, for me, that's beautiful. There's hurt here and there. There's pain, but we're still trying to find those light moments. I don't know, I think to be able to do that action, like you said, Nyla being protest and being the better than best, I think that's the most beautiful part about being a black woman.
Jodi: [00:25:27] That was Nyla Gilstrap and Kujegi Camara. You can hear more of their interview on our website, themoth.org/extras.
At the end of our conversation, you heard Kujegi and Nyla reveal what makes them glow inside and out. For me, a natural moisturizer sometimes does the trick for the outside. But on the inside, it's a pleasant brush with a complete stranger. Maybe locking eyes on the train or striking up a conversation in the deli. No names are exchanged, we barely know each other and maybe our only commonality is our affection for plantain chips.
Simply knowing that positivity and the potential for community exist out there, in this big and sometimes unfriendly world, fills me up. I want to thank Kujegi and Nyla for taking us on this journey. Their words inspire me to continue to push up against the erasure I see as a black woman, in and outside of Black History Month. Beauty remains a very complicated and emotional subject. But when we come together to share our personal moments of hardship, triumph or rebellion with each other, we can start to redefine what it means for all of us.
That's all for this week. From all of us here at The Moth, have a story-worthy week.
Julia: [00:26:49] Jodi Powell is a producer on The Moth's Mainstage and StorySLAM teams. Jodi also directs and teaches with our community and education teams. She says, the spark that ignites her is that moment when a storyteller is center stage and you can feel the audience listening.
This episode of The Moth Podcast was produced by me, Julia Purcell with Sarah Austin Jenness, Sarah Jane Johnson and Jodi Powell. Jodi also directed Kujegi Camara's story in this episode. Nyla Gilstrap's GrandSLAM story was directed by Julian Goldhagen.
The rest of The Moth's leadership team includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Jenifer Hixson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Klutse, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Glodowski and Aldi Kaza.
Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make radio more public at prx.org.