Even with five weeks left to go, it still feels like time is going by so fast. Although my work week wasn’t particularly different from my previous ones, there was a program-specific event that struck me this week. Reflecting on my experience watching the play “THIS LAND WAS MADE”, I felt a sense of resonance to my own journey as a black student navigating a predominantly white institution. This captivating production, set in 1967 Oakland, transported my cohort and I to a time of social activism and a city on the brink of radical change. The play’s exploration of history, imagination, and the collision of different ideologies painted a vivid picture that was able to echo into our present moment in various ways.

The one character I hated, Troy, a black student attending UC Berkeley, stood out to me in a profound way. His struggle with opposing the ideals of the Black Panther Party and seeking validation from white society resonated deeply with my own experiences as a black Duke student. Troy’s relentless pursuit of acceptance and his belief that “leveling up” in society meant conforming to the expectations of white individuals felt very surreal to me, which was probably why I didn’t like him very much.

Through Troy’s character, the play sheds light on the internalized racism and self-hatred that I’ve seen plague individuals in marginalized/POC communities. As he navigates the complexities of his identity, Troy unwittingly harbors a deep-seated resentment toward his black skin. He yearns for acceptance and recognition, unaware that his aspirations for success are hindered by a society that perpetuates systemic racism and denies equal opportunities to individuals like him. He had instilled in himself that if he worked ‘hard enough’, there weren’t going to be any barriers to his success as a judge in the future.

I found solace in the fact that Troy’s struggles struck a chord not only with me but also with many others in my life. He represented so many people I knew in my life, both in and out of school. His journey mirrored the experiences of friends, classmates, family, and acquaintances who, like me, have grappled with the challenges of finding acceptance and belonging within predominantly white spaces. The pressure to assimilate and conform to societal standards, often at the expense of one’s true self and/or adhered to Euro-centric standards, is a burden far too familiar to many individuals in marginalized communities.

Troy’s character served as a poignant reminder of the importance of self-acceptance and embracing one’s identity, despite societal expectations and systemic barriers. It prompted me to question the validity of societal standards that perpetuate the notion that success and validation come only through the lens of whiteness, especially when I had lived in environments to see that it doesn’t have to at all.

This play’s exploration of history, activism, and personal struggles shined a spotlight on the need for continued progress and social change. It reminded me that the fight for equality and justice is continuous and that the legacies of past movements still reverberate through my present in America. I’m grateful for the opportunity to have experienced this exceptional production and the profound impact it has had on my understanding of identity, self-love, activism, and the ongoing struggle for acceptance.

Happy pride month, let’s go women… or wait… not women… nonbinary people, queer people, everyone I guess. This week I’ve been thinking a lot about queerness and where it falls in the women’s rights movement. The past few weeks at Choices, I’ve been working on creating reproductive and sexual health materials for transmasculine individuals because even though the clinic is called Choices Women’s Medical Center, their services are still vital for people who don’t identify as women. Last week in our readings, we talked about the Trans Exclusive Radical Feminist movement (TERF) and how they feel that accepting trans individuals undermines womanhood and is an act of patriarchal oppression. This thought process is very present in reproductive rights movements (not to the extent of TERFs) because there is a very specific kind of violence enacted against people who are assigned female at birth. I think it’s important to acknowledge this, and I am still trying to figure out how to improve inclusivity without minimizing this harm. I think that what I’ve been realizing recently is just how much all of these different forms of oppression really intersect, and the roots of the violence live in the same place.

Before I came to New York, I was already reflecting about this summer, and I wrote in my notes app “Feminists who overlook or support violence against trans and queer people are not feminist, they are happily uplifting and committing violence on behalf of the patriarchy”. I wrote that while listening to a podcast and walking my dog along the greenway, and I think that I even feel more affirmed in that response now. By undercutting the rights of other groups we were just fighting each other rather than addressing the overarching perpetrators of harm. I think that this also makes intersectionality near impossible because it forces people to think about their oppression in very narrow facets of their identity. 

I feel very excited by this project I’ve undertaken at the clinic because it really gets to the core of a lot of things I’m passionate about. I certainly don’t have the answers for how inclusive the language used around reproductive rights should be. I just want the resources to be out there and those resources can evolve as the conversation evolves. I understand that the vast majority of the people that the clinic serves are cisgender women, but the whole goal is that every individual person is given another shot to make their life what they want. So, if even one trans person is able to access those services, then that is a win on behalf of the clinic and a middle finger to the patriarchy. So happy pride! Only the patriarchy wins when feminism turns on queer and trans people. 

The aroma filled my nose instantly. It was heavy and unpleasant, yet I was intrigued. Not intrigued like a good dinner and happy hour deal, but intrigued like a dangerous curiosity, knowing something is wrong, but wanting to look into it anyway. I made my way home from work, having finished the second day of orientation at Sanctuary for Families.

After sitting through four insightful presentations, one on NY laws related to custody and visitation and one on helping clients receive public benefits, I was honestly tired. I passed by the local Krispy Kreme and remembered I had 4 donuts left in my own box in my room. That almost made me smile, if it was not for this odd smell that was hogging all of my mind’s focus.

Once I got home, I realized that this smell was the smoke of wildfires that were taking place in Canada. At first, I did not pay this any mind, and I swiped past the Instagram post that informed me. I remained inside my place relaxing the rest of the evening.

That next day when I woke up, I could tell that the smoke had got way worse. Not only could you smell it, but you could see it. The city looked the same, except now it had an orange, hazy filter on it. By now, my timeline was filled with news on what was happening. I grabbed my mask, cringing at the thought of having to put a mask back on, and headed to work. Despite the smoke smelling and looking so bad, the city barely slowed down. People were still out moving around, but everyone had subtle looks of shock and confusion on their faces.

As day three of the legal department’s orientation began at SFF, I thought to myself, why did this have to happen now? That thought did not last long, as I tried to get rid of this selfishness. After all, I had plenty of facemasks, a place to stay inside, and much more. This smoke would not affect me as much as it probably would others.

Nevertheless, the day went on. I attended a Sanctuary for Families Gala and Paddle Raising Auction on Pier Sixty, in which I volunteered. Over $300,000 was raised for Sanctuary for Families’ services and clients. I was able to attend the after party, filled with SFF staff, volunteers/interns, and the invited guests. From Seth Meyers to Al B. Sure, there were hundreds of seemingly successful people. I told myself I would network, but once the legendary DJ Flash got on the turntables, it seemed like all everyone, including myself, could do was dance. This instinctive feeling of letting go and dancing brought more joy than networking could have to me, so I am glad that this is how the after-party played out.

Leaving the event brought me back to the reality of the smokey outdoors, and I made my way home masked up.  As of now, the sky seems much clearer, and it seems as if the air quality is getting better. Although not as desirable as a sunset between skyscrapers, another spectacle has made my second week here in NYC memorable, for sure.

Discomfort did not only exist in the air I was breathing though, but also in the material I was learning. Readings that we had this week, such as Detransition Baby and Cat Person sent my mind and previous perceptions of gender, sexuality, boundaries, narcissism, and objectification into a whirlwind— all twisted up and never the same. I cannot describe the uneasiness I felt when reading parts of these works, in which it seems like every character is wrong in their own non-comparative way. The discussion for such readings was tough and personal, but that is what is needed for real change and self-growth to take place. Unlike the discomfort of the smoke, a discomfort that forced you to avoid it in shelter, the discomfort from the readings was more welcoming. Similarly to how I was looking at them, the words of the readings seemed to also be looking at me, daring me to expand beyond my previous knowledge and to dive into their world of new fixations, filled with kinks and pleasures, of which I would have a lot to learn about.

Knowing that I am not the best when it comes to properly gendering, I was hesitant to the discomfort of these readings. (Gendering is something I struggle with, despite my good-intentions). Even more so, I had never spoke about gendering and transitioning before with  people who identified as LGBTQ+, so it seemed like every word I let out was another step out on a block of a minesweeper game, just awaiting for the moment in which I would say something “cancellable”.

Cat Person was much of the same type of discussion, as I felt my self stuck between calling the main character egotistical and narcissistic, despite feeling as if she had been taken advantage of. But by who? The man whom she initiated so much with? By herself? By both? I could not decide, and trying to voice this confusion was an even harder decision. The discomfort of the readings and the discussion combined worked together much like the smoke and the mask did for me. The readings, much like the smoke, were tough, but I initially assumed them to be manageable. But once it was time for the discussion, much like it once it was time to put the face masks back on, I immediately felt the weight of the unknown on my shoulders, pressing me down.

I adopted a new identity this past week of working at Choices- Condom Czar or perhaps the Corona Condom Captain. On Saturday, I had the opportunity to attend a public health fair in Corona Queens on behalf of Choices Women’s Medical Center. I woke up bright and early and made the commute to the Corona District Health Center. From 9am to 2:30, the outreach coordinator at Choices and I sat at a small folding table laden with brochures, diagrams, and birth control demo props and talked with passing community members about what services at Choices may be of interest to them.

The most noticeable thing about our table, and what likely drew the most people in, was the piles of condoms in all colors of the rainbow prominently placed on our table. I initially found it uncomfortable to speak with older individuals about their sexual health, but the more I had those conversations, the more comfortable I became explaining to elderly women that they were still at risk of STIs and then I would gesture at them to grab a handful of the free condoms. This experience working directly with the public has made me think a lot about my aspirations for the future and the work I’m doing this summer. 

In high school, I was really involved in local politics, and when I came to Duke, I had planned to study political science and public policy. I felt deeply committed to making change on the global stage. If you had asked me then what my career ambitions were, I would have said senator then president. I had this really firm belief that making change on a small, personal level was so insignificant in the grand scheme of all the injustice in the world. As I navigated my college career, I began to realize how much I value interpersonal relationships and how meaningful small actions to right injustice can be. It was this shift in my perception of change that guided me to completely switch my academic and career ambitions at the end of my sophomore year to begin on the pre-med track. While I still think that significant change has to happen on an institutional level, I think that the devaluing of personal relationships and community building locally undermines any attempt at these larger changes. A lot of progressive organizations and campaigns become so fixated on these large-scale problems and their bright and shiny solutions that they completely forget about the very real harm being done to marginalized communities every day as a result of oppressive symptoms. I think that this prioritization also reflects the fact that the largely privileged individuals writing laws and running these organizations won’t directly feel the impact of these issues and may only identify with their cause on an ideological level.

While both the founder and various staff members at Choices have spoken to me about their work advocating for women’s rights and abortion access, the center is primarily focused on the individual patients who walk through the doors each day. Choices moved to Jamaica Queens because it was one of the NYC neighborhoods most in need of abortion services and reproductive healthcare. Each patient served by Choices is given another opportunity to live their life on the path that they choose. Tabling at the health fair primarily serves to help provide education and contraceptive resources to individuals who happen to pass by. If even one person is motivated to take steps to protect their health then that feels like a win. I have loved the opportunities I’ve gotten these past 2 weeks to help with patients, and it makes me excited about what the rest of the summer will bring and my future career as a doctor. I have thoroughly enjoyed the readings and discussions in MOXIE, but I think that many of these conversations fall into the more ideological realm. I think that our conversations around objectification and harm provide an excellent framework for service, but, ultimately, I think that the small conversations I had with patients in the surgical recovery room at Choices have been the most impactful aspect of my MOXIE journey thus far.

As my average steps a day pick up, the pace of life has seemed to correlate as well. This first week has felt like a month’s worth of experiences bunched up into 7 days… Centering on women in politics as the main theme for the first week has prompted me to digest how my dual role as a woman and minority plays into the political environment I am imposed in. 

During my first NY museum adventure of the summer I visited the Cooper Hewitt Smithsonian Design Museum. During my visit I was drawn into the “Deconstructing Power” exhibit by W.E.B. Du Bois, an American sociologist, during the 1900’s World’s Fair. Through his colorfully disturbing diagrams, Du Bois forces the viewer to question if design is an accurate indicator of a country’s progress or a perpetuation of bias. As I was walking through the exhibit I was reminded of how America’s obsession with showcasing progress to other countries was tied into the disproportionate migration of minority groups who built the frameworks of America. Which forces me to question if a country could truly be “progressing” if progress comes at the cost of perpetuating oppression. 

This inquiry into how society’s perspective of progress in some ways pushes systemic racism continued on through the week as I watched Razing Liberty Square as part of the Human Rights Watch Film Festival. Razing Liberty Square detailed the displacement of Miami’s Liberty Square residents as the effects of climate change causes sea levels to rise, skyrocketing the value of Liberty Square’s height above sea level. Home to one of America’s first major public housing developments, Liberty Square is undergoing climate gentrification. The Liberty Square initiative that sought to address “crime and poverty” has more so addressed a way to make rent unachievable by residents. And as more “development” is placed onto Liberty Square, residents are fleeting quicker than architecture is being put down due to the destruction of community space and affordability. 

The film and exhibit together call into frame a larger question for myself about how oppressed populations can start to overcome the challenges placed onto them. Pearl Dowe, a political science professor at Emory, details how Black women were able to build autonomy in their societal roles by developing an encouraging culture. This struck me because in most conversations of encouraging equity, I have not heard of building up minority communities as a means to boost social capital. Dowe explains how Black women were excluded from political participation, and as a result have developed strong communities engaged in socioeconomic and political conditions. This beneficial resistance can be summed up into radical imagination: a way to transform visions of social progression into social action. 

The idea of radical imagination fits nicely into my introduction in working with Lower Eastside Girls Club (LEGC) because this is one of their core values. Radical imagination can show up in a multitude of beneficial resistance forms like networking, political mobilization, and office seeking. So far at LEGC the two projects I have been working on focus on cultivating empowerment through ambition/ supporting mental health in girls through community building and familiarizing young girls on the ways to become politically active in their local governments. As I experience radical imagination through local museums, films, and my collaborations with LEGC I am starting to see the strength in socialization of communities. Our communities, especially communities for women and minority groups, enable us to not only take steps forward in terms of building a strong sense of self but also take steps together in terms of civic engagement.

For my work with Right to Be this summer, I am creating a self-accountability training. What is self-accountability training, you may ask? It is an instruction and exercise on how to deal with your innate biases and hold yourself accountable when you act on them. Because of this, I have been doing a lot of readings on accountability. Now, accountability as a whole is very complex and spanning. And while I have not read a ton on self-accountability, reading about how to hold others accountable has got me thinking a lot about my own life. 

To prepare for my task at hand, I was given a book entitled Crucial Accountability: Tools for Resolving Violated Expectations, Broken Commitments, and Bad Behavior. The book is broken into 3 parts: one about working on yourself, one about creating safety in conversation, and a final one about putting this all into action. By breaking it into these three parts, it is easy to grasp the topics and see the flow of ideas and building of momentum and confidence. The chapters in each section seem manageable, allowing the reader not to be overwhelmed with all the tasks and skills that need to be established. The separation also facilitates a learning arc where the reader is able to recognize the issues in their own lives and begin to work towards what they truly wish. I have documented my own journey in this blog.

I have always been one who struggles in the face of conflict, both in just being in it and being the one who initiates something that may lead to conflict. Because of the latter, I often do not try to hold others accountable as I fear their reactions. This was something I was loosely aware of; however, in reading Crucial Accountability, I came to realize how many of my actions resulted from this lack of holding people accountable. They talk about “exploding” or lashing out when it builds to a point where your silence has created so much resentment that you cannot hold it any longer. And as much as I do not want to admit it, I have had those moments of explosion and still hold a lot of resentment towards people and groups that I did not hold accountable. 

This creates an interesting situation as it turns a lot of these feelings back onto myself. I begin to blame myself for lashing out and removing the blame from those whose actions caused the feelings. I am not sure where the balance of these feelings falls, or even how to find that balance. It is also difficult as I think I consider some of my “lashing out” to be instances where I did hold someone accountable, but because that is so out of character for me, it feels like lashing out. And there are a lot of what-ifs. What if I had held them accountable for their actions the first time? Would it have led to a better relationship? Would it have stopped them before it got to the point that I had to report them? I do not have any answers to these questions. 

Something stressed in Crucial Accountability is the idea that you need to ensure that the other person feels safe.

This, to me, was the biggest takeaway from the book as it defuses what leads to conflict before it starts. This tool, for some reason, makes me feel more empowered to hold others more accountable. However, I am not sure if that is enough to start holding people accountable for things that I have long let slide. For new things, yes, but for the old ones, the ones that have been built, I fear that it will look like the claims are coming out of nowhere. 

But, it needs to be done, or at least that is what I keep telling myself. I cannot let others’ actions that bother me and affect me continue to grow as it makes my life miserable as I live in resentment. It gives them too much power that I want back. I do not want to live in resentment and anger due to other people’s actions. And even if they do not change, maybe it is a sign to remove them from my life instead of fighting this silent battle all the time. That is a scary thing too, but it is less scary than feeling as if I am a ticking time bomb ready to explode at any moment on them. 

This is my year to reclaim things I have lost to these people. To reclaim the activities that they stole joy from, to reclaim the joy, to reclaim my life. This is my promise to myself.

So now that we’ve got our first week down, I have some things to say!

It’s been one whirlwind of a week since I last shared my thoughts in my pre-departure blog and I am bursting with stories and experiences from my internship at the Lower Eastside Girls Club. Grab a cup of coffee and settle in, because this first week has been nothing short of… different!

First off, I actually prefer walking over taking the shorter alternative! Do you mean to say that Niyat hasn’t ubered somewhere that’s a 5-minute walk? oh YES!

Starting with my internship at the Lower Eastside Girls Club, my fellow intern Sera has quickly become someone I’m still growing close to. We both embark on our passion for empowering young girls, love for exploring the vibrant streets of New York City, and probably talking about you…JK…or not. Our days are filled with laughter, deep conversations as we work side by side, and debates about taking the M9 bus back home as we know we’ll be walking for the 12th time that week. The people that work in the organization have been nothing short of welcoming and inspiring individuals themselves. One of the first people to help us settle in was a fellow Blue Devil and Co-Executive Director Ebonie. It was so motivating to see how she took away from her own experience interning with the Lower Eastside Girls Club 10 years ago and is there now helping transform lives!

Speaking of connections, my roommate Caroline and I bond over late-night chats and our shared interests in needing an hour of TikTok before bed. Her warmth and positive energy sure have made our living space feel like a true sanctuary<3

During our downtime, Nic and I have become thrift-shopping buddies, scouring the city for unique finds. Isabella, with her quick wit and infectious laughter, has brought an extra dose of joy to our group and our similar sense of humor has created an instant bond. Our inside jokes have become a soundtrack to our daily adventures and her presence reminds me of the importance of finding joy and laughter even in the midst of challenging times. Khilan, a gem in and of himself and whom I’ve named the fashion icon of our cohort, brings the drip regardless of the time and place. Paige is an undiscovered Michelin star chef?

Our visit to the documentary viewing of “Razing Liberty Square” shed light on the heavy toll of gentrification and systemic racism in Liberty Square, South Florida but I particularly loved the Q&A afterward with the actual individuals in the film. It was an experience that I’ll definitely be coming back there for and something I will keep seeking out even after my DukeEngage program. The 1980 short film, “Free, White, and 21” specifically opened my eyes to the stark realities that I myself still face today and how there hasn’t been much change socially since then. It moved me to tears when I had to visually and deeply reflect on my own identity and the experiences that come with being Black. I was glad that there weren’t too many people huddled around to see me cry, but I did keep standing there for a few minutes afterward. Sure, we have popularized things like cancel culture to bar people from being outwardly discriminatory, but how much of that really helps when things just turned passive and institutional instead? I’ve taken time since then to further think about the complexities and nuances of my racial identity, exploring the intersections of race, culture, and personal growth. I’m grateful to have this space to delve into feelings I didn’t want to confront for a very long time. It made me feel uneasy to think about what my relationship with the color of my skin would’ve been like if I had been born and raised here. As an international student, I always feel like I’m left in this gray area of having to constantly second-guess myself and my abilities. This is not to say that I haven’t had my fair share of learning curves, not-so-sweet realizations, and hard-to-swallow pills, but all of those were based on my ever-evolving character, not my race. You can always grow, learn from your setbacks, and even change things that might’ve made you feel insecure, but I was never made to feel like my blackness was one of them. It’s interesting huh?

Thank you for joining me on this rollercoaster of emotions and experiences. Stay tuned as I continue to share the stories of empowerment, connection, and personal growth that unfold during my time in NYC in the next few weeks.

… and If you can’t wait that long, my Snapchat story will keep you VERY updated with the close and personal info;)