AphroChic Magazine: Issue No. 6

APHROCHIC 

a curated lifestyle magazine 

ISSUE NO. 6 \ SPRING 2021 

FASHION REWIND \ BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY \ AMERICA, IT'S TIME TO GROW UP 

APHROCHIC.COM

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Thank you. For words of encouragement; for comments and regrams; for DMs, phone calls, 

shout outs and well wishes; for thoughts and prayers - the real kind; and for everyone who 

took a moment to send a fond thought and some positive energy our way. We felt it. It helped. 

And we’re grateful. As much as anything else, thank you for giving us something to do. 

AphroChic is a little company with a lot of arms. But in only 6 issues, this magazine has developed into one of the closest 

to our hearts. It’s fast becoming what we always wanted our company to be. A platform for new voices, a forum for meaningful 

conversation, a place for celebrating the people who inspire us. This magazine gives us space to be the unashamed fans of 

our culture - all of our cultures. And we hope it does the same for you. It’s where we root for us. And where we’ve found a lot of 

people are rooting for us, too. Knowing that, and having this issue (and the last few), to work on the roughest parts of the last 

year gave us something to focus on. And it helped us to remember that life is more than the sum of your problems. With that in 

mind, we have an edition to share that we think you’ll love. 

We start this issue off with a cover featuring one of our favorite poets, the amazing Yrsa Daly-Ward. In a shot inspired by 

Loraine Hansberry, Yrsa was captured by photographer Poochie Collins in a shoot directed by Tedecia Wint. In addition to 

gracing our cover, Yrsa is helping to launch our new literature section, Lit, with a few of her words. 

That’s a lot to follow, but we’ve got it covered. This issue takes us from the Manhattan home of interior designer Rayman 

Boozer to the Bronx fashion lab of influencer and entrepreneur Krystle DeSantos. From our New York launch pad, we hop 

across the water to walk the streets of Cartagena, Colombia, from the ancient architecture of the walled city to its ultramodern 

skyline. Keeping us entertained along the way, we have a roundup of the best podcasts for your ears right now and Camille 

Simmons has a new cocktail recipe to help us all stay nice and smooth as we make our way into 2021. 

Also in the issue, It’s a Family Affair begins a new segment as we take our first looks at the AphroFarmhouse project 

before stepping into the world of surrealist self-portraitist Fares Micue. Wrapping things up, we’ll continue our journey into 

the complex of ideas that make up our diaspora before taking a look at some things we could stand to lose as the 21st century 

finally begins to grow up. 

We’ve always said this magazine is a love letter. This month it’s a thank-you note as well. We hope that you enjoy this issue 

as much as we enjoyed putting it together. You stuck with us through the worst of what COVID-19 had to offer. And if we forgot 

to say it before, thanks. 

Jeanine Hays and Bryan Mason 

Founders, AphroChic 

Instagram: @aphrochic 

editors’ letter

SPRING 2021 

DEPARTMENTS 

Read This 10 

Watch List 12 

It’s a Family Affair 14 

Mood 18 

FEATURES 

Fashion // Fashion Rewind 22 

Interior Design // Bohemian Rhapsody 34 

Culture // Lit! 50 

Food // The Navy Grog 56 

Travel // Captivating Cartagena 64 

Reference // The Formation of Diaspora 78 

Sounds // 12 Podcasts to Catch in 2021 84 

PINPOINT 

Artists & Artisans 88 

Hot Topic 94 

Who Are You? 98

CONTRIBUTORS 

Cover photo: Yrsa Daly-Ward. Photographer: 

Poochie Collins. Producer: Tedecia Wint. 

Assistant: Michelle Bowen. 

Publishers/Editors: Jeanine Hays and Bryan Mason 

Creative Director: Cheminne Taylor-Smith 

Editorial/Product Contact: 

AphroChic 

AphroChic.com 

info@aphrochic.com 

Sales Contact: 

Ruby Brown 

ruby@aphrochic.com 

Contributors (left to right below): 

Poochie Collins 

Chinasa Cooper 

Hardley Jeannite 

David Land 

Camille Simmons 

Tedecia Wint 

issue six 9

READ THIS 

Inspiration leads us to bigger and better things, even in the face of diversity and strife. Each of our book 

selections in this issue provide revelations and relationships that have moved us forward, individually and 

as a people. The Three Mothers is a first-ever look at the strong and influential mothers of Martin Luther 

King Jr., Malcolm X, and James Baldwin. Each woman recognized her son's talent and helped guide him 

to greatness. A love of food inspired an unusual memoir in Black, White and The Grey - an examination 

of a unique friendship and the restaurant that grew from it. And in Begin Again, we're shown how James 

Baldwin found inspiration to move forward after the searing years of the Civil Rights movement. Each of 

these books provide encouragement to continue on in the "after times" we now find ourselves in. 

Black, White and The Grey 

by Mashama Bailey and John O. Morisano 

Publisher: Lorena Jones Books. $28 

The Three Mothers 

by Anna Malaika Tubbs 

Publisher: Flatiron. $28.99 

Begin Again 

by Eddie S. Glaude 

Publisher: Crown. $27 

10 aphrochic 

Well-traveled home goods, from the rug up. 

REVIVALRUGS.COM

WATCH LIST 

Women's sports have often been relegated to the back bench, rarely shown in prime time and not often 

making the major news. But that's changed in the last few months with some big moves in ownership and 

visibility. It started with a dream, the Atlanta Dream to be specific. The WNBA team members decided to 

speak out about Georgia politics and to support Rev. Raphael Warnock's run for US Senate, the man who 

just happened to be running against Kelly Loeffler, one of the Dream's owners. The team wanted to use 

its collective voice to make a difference, and they did. They are now being credited for Warnock's win as 

they gave him a major boost by wearing Vote Warnock shirts before each game. Then, just a few weeks 

after Warnock's win, former team member Renee Montgomery became a minority owner when the team 

was sold to a new investment group. Montgomery is the first former player to become both an owner and 

executive of a WNBA franchise. Only two weeks after that decision was announced, three-time Grand 

Slam winner Naomi Osaka was named a minority owner in the North Carolina Courage soccer program. 

Forbes’ Highest Paid Female Athlete last year, Osaka said: "It’s an investment in amazing women who are 

role models and leaders in their fields and inspirations 

to all young female athletes. I also admire everything 

the Courage does for diversity and equality in the 

community.” Osaka and Montgomery join a small 

but growing list of female owners, and an even smaller 

list of Black female owners. But they are proving that 

women's sports can make a difference, on and off 

the field. 

Naomi Osaka in her 

North Carolina Courage gear 

The Atlanta Dream in their Warnock shirts 

12 aphrochic 

serenaandlily.com

IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR 

A Healthy Foundation 

Sustainability is one of the major buzzwords of the last 20 years, and for very good reasons. As climate 

change continues to confront us with the harmful effects wasteful practices have on our environment, 

sustainability has become a growing part of conversations about what we make, what we eat, and even 

what we wear. But the next big area of concern, especially for our community, is sustainability in the 

things that we put in our homes. As we begin the process of designing the AphroFarmhouse, a major part 

of our focus is creating as healthy an environment as possible, not only in response to the current crisis, 

but in taking a new look at Black homes and the question of what we deserve. 

Environmental justice has been a 

concern for people of color living in the 

United States since the 1980s. By the '90s, 

studies were piling up finding that everything 

from wage discrimination to 

racist practices when selecting sites for 

toxic waste facilities were conspiring to 

make Black communities the unhealthiest 

places in the country. Today, significantly 

higher instances of air pollution and 

lead poisoning continue to exist in communities 

of color across the nation. The 

lead-contaminated water crisis in Flint, 

Michigan, in 2014 was only the most publicized 

incidence of a state of affairs that is 

common just about everywhere, but never 

gets discussed. Like the more than 1,000 

children, many under the age of 6, that 

suffered lead poisoning between 2016 and 

2018 while living in New York City public 

housing. 

But creating healthy and sustainable 

homes is not simply a matter of dealing 

with external racism. Many of the things 

we choose to bring into our homes can be 

equally dangerous. Furniture made with 

composite woods, paint, drapery and 

carpeting can all off-gas, releasing volatile 

organic compounds (VOCs) into the air 

and harming our health. Effects from VOC 

exposure, depending on time and sensitivity, 

can range from mild eye and throat irritation 

to organ damage and cancer. One 

of the most concerning sources of VOCs, 

because of the amount of time we spend 

with them, are our mattresses. 

A recent study found that mattresses 

containing polyurethane foam 

produced significant amounts of offgassed 

VOCs despite having been aired 

out for at least six months. While the levels 

remained below what would be considered 

to pose a significant risk, they have 

the ability to cause harm over time, especially 

in children. But there are organic 

options that off-gas significantly less, and 

some with almost no emissions at all. In 

looking for options in that last category, 

It‘s a Family Affair is an ongoing 

series focusing on the history of 

the Black family home. 

Words by Jeanine Hays and Bryan Mason 

14 aphrochic issue six 15

IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR 

we partnered with AVOCADO to help us sleep safely 

and soundly in our new home. Our new mattress has 

been tested for emissions and toxicity. It doesn’t off-gas 

harmful chemicals and it’s made with organic certified 

wool, and organic certified cotton. We’ll spend roughly a 

third of each day having a good night’s sleep on a mattress 

that’s healthy as well. 

Sustainability is not a term that we often find used 

in connection with homes in the Black community. Often, 

we think of design more in terms of the effect it will have 

on our wallets than what it will mean for our organs. 

Because of that, we will often choose options that carry 

greater health risks as long as they are less expensive. 

And this can result in serious health consequences for our 

community. But over the next year, we’ll be advocating for 

something different, and will be sharing resources and 

tips with you on how to not only design a beautiful home, 

but one where foundational materials support the ability 

to live well. Because every community deserves quality 

homes that support and sustain the health of our families. 

The AphroFarmhouse 


MOOD 

CROSS COLORS 

UNO Artiste Nina 

Chanel Abney $20 

creations.mattel.com 

This spring we’re catching that early ’90s vibe. That 

Fresh Prince, Martin, Living Single-type of vibe. Bold 

colors and fearless patterns that are all about that oneof-a-kind 

mix. From a tie-dye pillow to liven up the sofa 

to UNO cards that are literal works of art, this spring is 

about embracing those primary hues that make everything 

pop. 

Vesta 2 Colors Earrings in Lavender $40 

rachelstewartjewelry.com 

Henry Mask 4-Pack 

$49.50 

henrymask.com 

Batik Square Pillow in Yellow $160 

perigold.com 

YOWIE Crew in Washed Lime $45 

shopyowie.com 


FEATURES 

Fashion Rewind | Bohemian Rhapsody | Lit! | The Navy Grog | 

Captivating Cartagena | The Formation of Diaspora | 12 Podcasts to 

Catch in 2021

Fashion 

Rewind

Fashion 

Everything Old 

Is New Again 

To Krystle DeSantos, there’s no such thing as an old 

outfit, just one that hasn’t yet caught its second wind. 

In a spacious room of her Bronx, NY, apartment that 

is equal parts girl-cave and laboratory, the Guyanese 

fashion influencer weaves her own special brand of 

alchemy. Eras, trends, perspectives and garments 

are cast and recast, blended with a skill that would 

impress even the best mixologists or DJs. 

Photos by Hardley Jeannite 


24 aphrochic

Fashion 

“I blame my mom for this,” she 

laughs, neatly sidestepping an inquiry 

about her inspiration. But she isn’t 

kidding. It’s true that the idea for an 

outfit might start with Beyonce’s latest 

lyrics or images of Dorothy Dandridge 

and Josephine Baker. But the spark that 

turns them into distinctive looks still 

comes from a little girl watching her 

mother and grandmother combine the 

pieces they bought with the ones they 

created to make magic. 

Krystle’s DIY approach to fashion 

design honors their example. Many 

of her pieces and nearly all of her 

accessories are made by her, and 

available through Lillian and Joan, the 

online fashion accessories shop Krystle 

founded in 2012, and which bears both 

of their names. But style is more than 

a family affair. For Krystle, fashion is 

culture, and the island that shaped her 

is present in every outfit and every look. 

“Guyana’s a very vibrant, very 

colorful environment.” she reveals. “My 

culture has Indian traditions associated 

with it, so I grew up with Diwali, which 

is the festival of lights, and Pagwa, 

which also uses a lot of color.” Using 

her own history as a lens on the wider 

legacy of Black women while pulling 

from Guyana’s vibrant culture and her 

family’s garment-making traditions, 

Krystle composes outfits that are 

cultural statements all by themselves. 

Whether the visual story she creates 

is whimsical or historical, surreal or 

simply fierce, her message is the same: 

Black women the world over are a force, 

and they always have been. 

Krystle’s take on vintage is light 

years away from the ordinary. This 

isn’t raiding your mom’s closet for a 

few accessories. It’s ready-to-wear 

street style with a healthy dose of island 

flair and urban attitude. Whether it’s 

head-to-toe leopard print or accessories 

with a BLM message, Krystle’s creations 

are designed to command any stage, 

from the wilds of Instagram to the 

streets of New York City, proving that 

nothing in fashion is ever old, just 

waiting to be reimagined. AC 

Check out krystledesantos.com and shop 

lillianandjoan.com for more from Krystle 

DeSantos. 

26 aphrochic


Fashion 

30 aphrochic

Fashion 

“I blame my 

mom for this.”

Interior Design 

Bohemian 

Rhapsody 

Rayman Boozer's 

Work-from-Home Paradise 

There’s one on the wall and another on the ceiling. The third is on the bed. His shirt 

is number four and the pillow he’s holding to his chest as he speaks is the fifth, 

but it’s not the last. There are at least half a dozen patterns in the room, all hailing 

from different places, all speaking different languages, telling different stories. On 

paper it would be chaos, but in Apartment 48, the live-work loft of Manhattan-based 

interior designer Rayman Boozer, they become a chorus, singing with one voice to a 

tune that everyone can hear. 

Photos by Chinasa Cooper 


issue six 35

Interior Design


The sense of music in his compositions probably isn’t accidental. 

“Jimi Hendrix is one of my icons,” he begins by way of 

explanation. “The way he dressed influences my work a lot. I 

lean towards the bohemian. I'm really good at mixing patterns, 

so you see a lot of pattern on pattern on pattern. Like even when 

you feel like there's enough pattern, I'll add one more thing.” 

It’s a point of view he’s become known for, but not one that he 

imposes on clients. “I can do anything for clients, but at home, 

I can really break free. I'll take a couple of patterns or a couple 

of colors that you wouldn't think would go together and I'll like, 

push them into the same room.” 

A soft-spoken man with a quiet demeanor that belies his 

bold design style, Rayman’s home is 1800 square feet of things 

you might never expect to hear him say out loud. Born, raised, 

and educated in Indiana, he admits there may be a difference 

between what he thinks and what he says — or at least how he 

says it. “It's very popular to be humble in Indiana. That’s just how 

I was brought up. So I think that I have a lot of great ideas. But 

I think that the way that you present your ideas — you can't be 

arrogant. That would never occur to me.” When he first moved 

to New York more than 35 years ago, Indiana humility and a lot of 

great ideas were about all he had with him. 

“It was horrible,” he laughs, remembering the city he 

arrived in a week after graduating from Indiana University 

with a degree in interior design. “It was not the New York of 

the magazines. I was living in Times Square while there was a 

recession and it was not very safe. I had no plan, $400 and it had 

been a one-way ticket. So I was determined to stay and make it 

work.” Years later, it looks like he did. 

Stepping into Rayman’s home, the space is quick to make 

an impression. Entering almost directly into the kitchen, 

avenues to the living area and bedroom sit respectively to the 

left and right. The space stretches out in both directions with 

only a few walls to obstruct the view, giving visitors a sense of all 

that the sizable home holds all at once. The reaction is generally 

the same. “Everyone says, ‘wow’,” Rayman reflects. “And I'm not 

sure what I did. But I did something with the combination of 

colors that hits a note with people.” 

Unsurprisingly, Rayman mixes colors with the same 

fearless eclecticism that he does patterns. He almost has 

to, as the two are in constant conversation in his home. 

In the living room, brick walls covered in dark gray paint 

separate the lighter notes of the wooden floor and the tin 

ceiling — the only remnant from the time before Rayman 

moved in. “I think this was a warehouse,” he muses. “It 

was built in the '20s.” The different materials in floor, 

wall and ceiling create a mix of both pattern and textures, 

giving the room a sense of depth. A collection of paintings 

and photographs cover the walls as jungle cats make unexpected 

appearances on pillows and the space’s area rug. 

Every designer knows that a beautiful home has a 

beautiful living room. But only the best have two. Hiding 

just past the office, Rayman’s second living room emerges 

with its own unique color scheme and collection of patterns 

— and one special feature that sets it apart: a massive floorto-ceiling 

bookcase that dominates an entire wall. 

“I really wanted to maximize the space,” he recalls. 

So I designed it in 13 pieces and four separate sections but 

40 aphrochic


connected so it looks like one big thing.” 

Moving it in proved a logistical challenge. “I 

had to explain it to the people who were going 

to build it. Then I had to get it in here.” The 

question of one day moving it to a new home 

precipitates a quick life decision. “I figure 

I'm not going to leave here anytime soon,” he 

laughs. It’s an important turn in his relationship 

with a place he never planned on calling 

home. “I never wanted to live in a loft,” he 

confesses. I've been designing them around 

the city for probably about 10 years, but I didn’t 

see having one.” Instead, what is now a love 

affair, began as a relationship of necessity. 

Seven years ago, when Rayman was 

looking for a home, the only one thing he knew 

for sure was that he would move to a place that 

could house his business as well as his life. “I 

had a store for like 18 years,” he remembers. 

“I learned that it's not smart to pay two rents.” 

Before his current home, Rayman’s business 

operated from his two-bedroom apartment. 

But the business grew, and Rayman’s space 

needed to grow with it. 

In his current home, creating space for 

work meant adding walls to the nearly featureless 

loft. Now the office is a physical manifestation 

of work/life balance, a neatly tucked away 

area for housing projects and ideas. But just 

because the office is where Rayman confines 

his work doesn’t mean its the only part of his 

home with a job to do. The rest of the home 

serves as a walk-in portfolio, demonstrating to 

clients what he can do. “They'll say, ‘Oh, now I 

see what you mean about mixing French provincial 

with American ’60s,’ you know, because 

otherwise it doesn't make sense when you say 

it out loud.” 

Jimi Hendrix isn’t the only influence 

from the '60s to make an impact on Rayman's 

21st century designs. “It was a time when 

things shifted,” he reminisces. “The Civil 

Rights movement, hippies, people who were 

embracing other people. It was the beginning 

of fashion designers looking to the streets 

to see what people were wearing. I love bell 

bottoms, the Jackson Five and all that stuff.” 

Spurred on by the eclecticism of the '60s, 

Rayman has spent his life building an impressive 

catalog of influences, both real and virtual. 

“I love Asian references,” he says, “but I've never 

been to Asia. I studied Japanese art in college, 

but I feel like it all comes from growing up with 

television shows like I Dream of Jeannie and 

Gilligan's Island.” Combined with real world 

travels to Paris, Florence, and his favorite, 

Morocco, it’s a mixed bag with a lot to pull from. 

And while the cultural accuracy of '60s sitcoms 

is debatable at best, they provided Rayman with 

the key to his design superpowers: the power of 

fiction. 

“I’m always thinking of how I can tell 

a story,” he reveals, “but the story is always 

fictional.” When designing this apartment, he 

thought little about himself, setting the stage 

instead for a fictional client. “I said to myself, 

‘the guy who lives here, his life is easy. He 

doesn't care about things. He just gets stuff and 

puts it together.’ ” The one thing Rayman and 

his fictional client have in common, however, is 

that they absolutely love his bedroom. 

Quick to call it his favorite room in the 

home, Rayman is equally fast to confess how 

little time he spends there. But the lopsided 

division of time had no impact on the amount of 

design attention the space received. In fact, the 

room is very much Rayman’s entire approach 

in microcosm, beginning with his enduring 

love of art. 

“I love photography,” he begins, excitedly 

issue six 43

“I'm always thinking how I 

can tell a story, but the story 

is always fictional.” 

cataloging his collection. “I have a really cool 

photo by this photographer named Arthur King 

from the '40s. There's also a great painting of 

scarves in the hallway by this guy, Jerry Garcia, 

who was a teacher at Parsons…” Much like the 

living room, monochrome photos line the walls 

of the bedroom as well as the space above the 

bed. But perhaps Rayman’s most innovative art 

inclusion is the bust wearing a bandana that sits 

by his bedroom window. 

“It just became a thing,” he explains. “One 

day I put a furry winter hat on it and it looked 

really cool. So in summer I gave it a summer 

hat. It makes sense if you if you look back in 

old magazines from the '60s like, Architectural 

Digest. People like Lord Snowden had busts 

with necklaces and other accessories.” The 

bust sits on a table in front of a set of curtains 

that again evoke the designer’s love of Asia and 

fiction. 

“I love this sort of chinoiserie thing,” he 

says of the green table, made in a European 

style inspired by China. “I think it's stylish. I was 

intentionally trying to be kind of stylish with 

it.” The curtains, a similar take on Japanese 

culture, touch on an interesting caveat of 

Rayman’s fiction-first design style — to come 

close to evoking a culture, but not too close. 

“It can’t be literally Asian or European or 

African,” he says. For Rayman, landing close to 

the cultural mark but not directly on it allows 

for the feeling of fiction, letting him blend 

disparate elements that might not naturally 

go together in creative ways because they’re 

not intended to be taken literally. “If you can 

imagine it then you can pull anything in and 

make it into a story and you use what you have. 

I always have a story in the back of my mind 

that justifies things, and as long as the story is 

strong enough, you can put anything together.” 

Appreciating Rayman’s design style is 

easy. Grasping it, however, requires embracing 

the one word at it’s very center: bohemian. 

It’s the perfect word to describe his approach 

and his home, drawing from a long history of 

malleable meanings to become something 

that none of those meanings can capture fully. 

Finally it becomes a matter of perspective, 

which is exactly where Rayman wants to be. 

“When I say bohemian, what I mean is the 

vibe of the '60s and '70s, like hippies, and how 

they layered on patterns, just like one more 

thing on top of something. I want my rooms to 

feel like that, kind of over the top, but not tacky.” 

But for all of its free spiritedness, Rayman’s is 

not a style based on breaking the rules, but 

on knowing them well enough to bend them. 

“There is science to it,” he admits. “It’s not 

nearly as random as I make it sound. I think a lot 

about what goes together and what works and 

what story I'm telling. I'm very conscious of it. 

But I want it to feel effortless.” AC 

issue six 45

Interior Design

Interior Design

Culture 

Lit! 

A Word (and a Poem) 

with Yrsa Daley-Ward 

Words are important. In every corner of the globe and from the beginnings of the 

African Diaspora, words have helped to frame our experience, unite our causes, 

and shape our future. Iconic creatives and genius intellectuals, many of whom 

were both, have used their words to open doors, reveal truths, and push us not 

only to think more of ourselves but also to demand more of the world around us. 

When we’ve needed to be inspired, we’ve turned to the orators. When we need to 

reflect, we go to our writers. But when we need to aspire or, just as importantly, to 

heal, we have our poets. 

Interview conducted by Jeanine Hays and Bryan Mason 

Poem by Yrsa Daley-Ward 

50 aphrochic

Culture 

Yrsa Daley-Ward is the author of the achingly personal works 

Bone and The Terrible, she is perhaps best known as the co-writer of 

Beyonce’s Black is King. A masterful excavator of the human experience, 

most often viewed through the lens of her own, Yrsa has a fascinating, 

sometimes terrifying ability to capture our biggest, most 

complex and messiest emotions in just a few words. We sat down with 

one of our favorite poets to talk about why people need poems, where 

the world needs to go post-2020, and the beautiful cycle of breaking 

and mending. 

AC: What do you feel is the role of poetry in humanity? What 

impels us to do it? What does it give us that we can’t get anywhere 

else? 

YDW: I think poetry has the power to inspire thought, new truths 

and to explore those hard-to-touch areas, helping us to further understand 

each other. In poetry, we see that we are not alone. Essentially 

I see writing a poem as conveying relatable feelings and matter 

of the heart in a succinct, often universal tone. 

AC: When did you first discover yourself as a poet? Was it 

something you accepted immediately? How have you worked to 

develop it? 

YDW: I have been writing poems for as long as I remember 

and have always accepted that I am a writer. I think reading often 

develops the craft, allowing myself to be open and curious, allowing 

life to surprise me in the way it is bound to. I think the development of 

the craft is more about experience than work. 

AC: 2020 felt like a year where everything fell apart. If 2021 is 

the beginning of rebuilding, where do you think we need to start? 

YDW: Falling apart is a beautiful place to begin. As such, we have 

already begun. And so we go on, beginning all the time. 

AC: Poetry and the arts have always played a central role in all of 

our political and social movements. How do you see the shape of the 

movement changing after 2020? What can poets do to light the way? 

YDW: I think the poet's only commitment needs be to honor the 

thing running through them, whatever truth that might be, however 

it shifts and manifests. It’s about following the thing, the spark, 

the divine inspiration, and not questioning or contriving too 

much. The service is to the art, and this will become service for the 

people. 

AC: Much of your work focuses on the processes of recognizing 

oneself through turbulent times. What, ideally, would you like your 

readers to learn about themselves as they learn about you? 

YDW: To realize we are all more similar than different. Though 

our circumstances differ, our fears, our hopes, our dreams are family. 

AC: How would you like your work to be received? Or how would 

you like to be remembered? 

YDW: I want to follow the art, the joy and love of creating, and 

remain as true to myself and my humanness as possible. I want to 

make work that is understandable and that will help to make people 

feel less alone. 

issue six 53

Culture 

Poem for My Love 

by Yrsa Daley-Ward 

I know that I love you. You go walking every morning beneath the trees 

when much of the city is sleeping and preparing for more of the same; walls, 

information, terror, doubt. You tell me that the sky is on a kind of holiday, 

deep-breathing, pink, still. You talk about the sun, so low and tender you 

can stare it in the eye. The flowers, still showing up for work. I know that I 

love you. Everything around us whispers. It is up to us what we hear. 

I think that when this time is over and we are almost nearly remembering 

all of this, you will be so full up of the raw, living beauty you have so 

diligently collected each morning and the world will have turned, heaving 

with its newest learnings. I think there is gorgeous anarchy in not knowing 

where this will take us. I worry, you worry, but here we are. Right now, all 

there is to do is live. 


The 

Navy 

Grog

Food 

Planning Pretty’s Colorful 

Cocktail for Spring 

Camille Simmons of Planning Pretty is an expert 

when it comes to homes. Not just what to put in 

them to get the look you want, but also what to 

do with them once your perfect aesthetic has 

been achieved. Entertaining is her specialty 

and she’s been quick to point out that the party 

doesn’t have to stop just because we’re all stuck 

at home. In fact, while 2021 has us all checking 

for vaccine appointments between Zoom calls, 

a nice soothing cocktail might be just what we 

need. Fortunately for all of us, Camille is here 

and she’s got it covered. 

Intro by Jeanine Hays & Bryan Mason 

Words and recipe by Camille Simmons 

58 aphrochic

Food 

Growing up in California, 

I’ve always been blessed with the 

wide availability of citrus fruits. 

Neighbors grow them in their 

yards and offer free produce 

on front porches. But when everyone’s 

giving away free fruit 

it’s easy to suddenly realize that 

you’ve got way more than you can 

eat. Well, if the fruit that’s overflowing 

your fridge is grapefruit 

then the solution is easy - turn 

them into cocktails! Grapefruit is 

a great juice to use as a base for a 

wide variety of drinks including 

this tiki favorite, the Navy Grog. 

This classic drink works on 

two scales, either as a personal 

cocktail or made in big batches. 

Since we’re all still socially distancing, 

I created this recipe for 

two. You can make one to share or 

keep one for later. Light, sweet, 

and colorful, it’s the perfect drink 

to help us kick back and relax 

while we wait for spring. 

The Navy Grog 

(TWO SERVINGS) 

6 OZ OF JAMAICAN RUM 

2 OZ OF HONEY SYRUP 

4 OZ OF FRESH GRAPEFRUIT JUICE (APPROX 1 WHOLE GRAPEFRUIT) 

1.5 OZ OF FRESH LIME JUICE (APPROX 2 WHOLE LIMES) 

SMALL ICE CUBES 

EDIBLE FLOWERS OR FRESH HERBS FOR GARNISH 

Start by prepping and measuring all the ingredients, then set 

aside. Using fresh-squeezed fruit juice boosts the quality of the 

drink over pre-packaged juice. Try rolling the fruit on a board before 

cutting in half to squeeze. It softens the fruit and makes it easier to 

squeeze as much juice as possible. 

To make the honey syrup, pour one ounce of honey into a microwave- 

safe bowl and heat for 30 seconds. Then add about an ounce of water, 

stir, and set aside to cool. 

Grab a cocktail shaker or a large mason jar and fill with ice. Pour in 

rum, then honey syrup. Add fresh fruit juices. Shake till frothy. 

Fill two stemless glasses halfway with ice and pour equal amounts 

into each glass. Garnish with an edible flower or herbs. Sit back and 

enjoy — you deserve it. 


Food

Travel 

Captivating 

Cartagena 

Jewel of the Old New World 

Once the most important seat of Spanish power in the Americas, 

Cartagena, known then as Cartagena de Indias or Cartagena de 

Poniente (“of the West”), is one of Colombia’s most populous and 

visited cities. A stunning mix of natural wonder, intriguing antique 

architecture, and contemporary flavor, it’s a place where the 

cannons of centuries-old fortresses still overlook the water, and 

symbols of imperial power line streets walked by the descendants 

of conquistadors, slaves, and indigenous people alike. 

Images by David Land 


64 aphrochic

Travel 

Before becoming a Spanish colony, the area had been home to 

civilizations since around 4000 BC. Cartagena was founded in 1533 by 

Pedro de Heredia, a hot-tempered Spanish noble who fled Spain for 

the New World after killing three of six men responsible for disfiguring 

his face. According to legend, the city received its name because many 

of Heredia’s men hailed from Cartagena in Spain, and the similar bay 

of the new colony reminded them of home. 

Prior to Heredia, earlier Spanish attempts to occupy the area had 

failed. In 1510, Juan de la Cosa, who captained the Santa Maria under 

Columbus, died fighting for the land alongside famed conquistadors 

Alonso de Ojeda and Francisco Pizarro. Ojeda and Pizarro survived 

but failed to establish a lasting colony. Afterward, Spanish interest in 

the area faded in favor of already-established territories. 

Once founded, Cartagena quickly gained importance. Yet its 

poor defenses early on made it an inviting target. Among the many 

who attacked the port town was Sir Francis Drake, who in 1586 sacked 

Cartagena with 23 ships and 3,000 men, occupying the city and destroying 

nearly a quarter before it was ransomed back to Spain. 

As a strategically located port, Cartagena was a hub for Spain’s 

export of gold and silver and its import of enslaved Africans. Through 

the 16th and 17th centuries, slavery became Cartagena’s chief industry. 

Yet many of the enslaved escaped, forming walled communities in 

nearby areas as staging grounds for raids on the city to rescue newly 

arriving slaves. In 1691, the Spanish crown granted official freedom 

to the first and most successful of these settlements, San Basilio de 

Palenque, making it the first Black community in the Americas to be 

so recognized. 

Today, the culture of Cartagena holds all of the depth and beauty 

of its long and storied history — mixing reverence for its colonial past 

with strong influences from the Indigenous and African communities 

that shaped it. La Ciudad Amurallada, The Walled City, holds much 

of Cartagena’s past, including the Puerta del Reloj (Clock Portal), the 

Palace of the Inquisition, and The Church of Saint Peter Claver, the 

Jesuit priest who dedicated his life to the care of Cartagena’s large 

enslaved population, becoming one of the patron saints of Colombia. 

Statues of colonial figures dot the landscape, paying homage to figures 

such as Heredia himself and India Catalina, an indigenous woman 

kidnapped as a child and raised by the Spanish who aided in Heredia’s 

domination of the indigenous communities. 

Now as then, Cartagena is a place that captivates all who arrive 

on its shores. From the ancient grandeur of the Walled City to the 

ultramodern skyline of Bocagrande, from its more than 20 beaches 

to its extensive culinary scene which, like the city’s inhabitants, is 

a complex blend of Indigenous, African, and European flavors. It 

is a place where every sight, every sound, and every step holds a 

memory. AC 

66 aphrochic

Travel

Travel 

issue six 71

Travel

Travel 

76 aphrochic

Reference 

The Formation 

of Diaspora, Part 2 

Out of Many, Many 

From its beginning, one of the key separations between the 

African Diaspora concept and the Pan-Africanism that it 

was created to replace, was its focus on difference rather 

than unity as the most crucial element of the relationship 

between the cultures that comprise it. It was to address the 

growing sense of difference between Black cultures that 

scholar George Shepperson, as well as Joseph Harris, first 

introduced the idea of the African Diaspora in 1965. From 

there, more voices joined, including British cultural studies 

luminary Stuart Hall, to more deeply and eloquently explore 

the nature of the distinctions between Diaspora cultures. 

Words by Bryan Mason 

Photos by Dan FL Creativo 

The idea that these cultures were different 

was not, by itself, new. Everyone was aware prior 

to 1965 that there were differences between 

West Indian and African American cultures or 

between Black communities that spoke English 

and those that spoke French (to say nothing of 

those which speak Spanish). But prior to 1965, 

Pan-Africanist philosophies largely held these 

differences to be more or less superficial variations 

imposed over an underlying self that was 

essentially African. By the 1980s however, these 

differences were increasingly felt to represent 

the truest parts of our cultures, placing the 

belief in a universally African self in serious 

doubt. In particular, Hall’s concept of “Articulation” 

helped recast the Pan-Africanist image 

of Black cultures around the world, reforming 

it as the complex set of interactions between 

connected but ultimately distinct entities that 

we now know as the African Diaspora. It was a 

process that would continue to challenge not 

only our shared notion of self, but even the role 

of the nation-state in the creation of culture. 

Paul Gilroy and The Black Atlantic 

One of the most significant theoretical 

interventions in the development of 

African Diaspora theory came in the early 

'90s. A striking new direction taken by British 

historian Paul Gilroy, a student of Hall’s whose 

early overtures against British ethnocentrism 

led him to completely re-imagine the African 

Diaspora concept. Gilroy’s 1993 opus, The Black 

Atlantic, is a treatise against all essentialist 

theories of cultural production — particularly 

those that rely on geography as a means of justifying 

positions of ethnocentricity. Perhaps 

in response to the pervasiveness of “African 

American essentialism” within American Black 

Studies programs, Gilroy focuses his attention 

on W.E.B. DuBois and Richard Wright, two 

paragons of African American intellectual and 

cultural history. In considering the life and work 

of each, Gilroy emphasizes the extended periods 

of travel, work, and study abroad that took place 

throughout their respective careers. Stressing 

the extremely formational influence that 

exposure outside of the United States had on 

them, Gilroy argues against the idea that their 

work or even they themselves should be considered 

“African American” in the strictest sense. 

In many ways, The Black Atlantic signifies 

Gilroy’s continuation of the work of decentralization 

as suggested by Shepperson 

and furthered by Hall. Not only is Africa 

removed as the central cog giving meaning and 

cohesion to a network of derivative cultures, 

it is removed from the area of study entirely 

as Gilroy shifts attention to cultural interactions 

among the descendants of the displaced 

without special regard for the original site of 

displacement. By emphasizing the “roots and 

routes” of cultural transmission, reinforced 

by the constant symbolic imagery of the ship, 

which he states, “remained perhaps the most 

important conduit of Pan-African communication 

before the appearance of the long-playing 

record,” Gilroy argues against the nation-state 

as the site of ethnically-based cultural essentialisms, 

positing instead that it is in the in-be- 


Reference 

tween spaces that culture is most authentically 

produced. Thus the Black Atlantic is an 

amorphous system of relationships rather than 

a coherent network of interactions between 

monolithically defined states. 

The impetus for this dynamically abstract 

approach to culture, identity and belonging, 

may be found in Gilroy’s earlier works and perspective 

as a Black Britain. As he describes in 

Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack: 

Black Britain defines itself crucially as 

part of a diaspora. Its unique cultures 

draw inspiration from those developed 

by black populations elsewhere. In 

particular, the culture and politics 

of black America and the Caribbean 

have become raw materials for creative 

processes which redefine what it means 

to be black, adapting it to distinctively 

British experience and meanings. 

Black culture is actively made and 

re-made. 

Thus in defining the Black Atlantic, Gilroy 

is extrapolating what he has already identified 

as being the process of cultural creation 

and identity formation in his own context to 

the wider diaspora, itself the evolving result 

of a series of ongoing cultural interactions. In 

the process, Gilroy assumes a position of “anti-anti-essentialism” 

– one which views culture 

neither as, “a fixed essence, nor as a vague and 

utterly contingent construction to be reinvented 

by the will and whim of aesthetes, symbolists, 

and language gamers.” 

The Black Atlantic drew passionate 

responses, both positive and negative. In return, 

it provided scholars with such fertile ground 

for consideration and debate that well into the 

21st century that Gilroy has remained, “the one 

theorist cited in almost all recent considerations 

of the [African Diaspora],” according to 

Edwards. As a result, the term, “Black Atlantic” 

has gained such currency that it may one day 

rival “diaspora” for its multitude of uses and 

definitions. Branching out from its own specifically 

Diaspora-focused roots, the website of the 

Tate museum defines the Black Atlantic as, “the 

fusion of black cultures with other cultures from 

around the Atlantic.” 

Minding the Gap 

Following the impact of The Black Atlantic 

there have been continued attempts to define 

difference within the African Diaspora concept. 

The 2001 essay The Uses of Diaspora by Brent 

Hayes Edwards examines the history of the 

concept in the hope of offering a handle with 

which to grasp the rapidly multiplying applications 

of the term. Drawing heavily from Hall’s 

Articulation and Derrida’s use of Differance, 

Edwards offered his own intervention into the 

ongoing conversation with Dècalage, meaning 

literally “gap,” “discrepancy,” “time-lag,” or 

“interval.” Dècalage, Edwards posits, is the 

substance that holds together Hall’s articulated 

notion of diaspora. As he explains: 

Any articulation of diaspora…would 

be inherently décalé or disjointed by a 

host of factors. Like a table with legs of 

different lengths, or a tilted bookcase, 

diaspora can be discursively propped 

up (calé) into an artificially “even” or 

“balanced” state of “racial” belonging. 

But such props, of rhetoric, strategy, or 

organization, are always articulations 

of unity or globalism, ones that can be 

“mobilized” for a variety of purposes 

but can never be definitive: they 

are always prosthetic. In this sense, 

décalage is proper to the structure of 

a diasporic “racial” formation, and its 

return in the form of disarticulation— 

the points of misunderstanding, bad 

faith, unhappy translation—must be 

considered a necessary haunting. 

Thus the articulation of diaspora, by its very 

nature, creates a series of gaps which function 

not only as distinctions between cultures, but 

as the repository of all that cannot be translated 

from one culture to another. Edwards uses the 

image of joints in the body to present décalage as 

that which enables the “two-ness” of the joint – 

the means of difference within unity. 

The Same Coin: Unity and Difference 

The fundamental point of departure 

between Pan-Africanism and Diaspora is 

whether the “truth” of Black cultures is found 

in their commonalities or their distinctions. 

Pan-Africanism endorsed unity as a matter 

of cultural expedience and political necessity. 

And as the need for international Black political 

activity was thought to be disappearing, Diaspora 

began to emphasize difference. Certainly there 

are strong points to be made for both. The 

political function of establishing an ideology 

of sameness between Black cultures globally, 

to whatever level of success, is undeniable. At 

the same time, earlier parts of this series have 

explored the fact that the African diaspora is not 

comprised of groups of people dispersed from a 

single nation but of groups dispersed from many 

nations and to many nations, wherein the unique 

processes of history forged not a single group’s 

reinterpretation of their former culture, but new 

cultures for new peoples formed in different 

measures out of the cultures of the oppressed, 

the oppressors and everyone they met along 

the way. That there is as much that distinguishes 

these cultures as unites them is inevitable. 

But before we choose sides between universal 

sameness and uncrossable difference, there are a 

few points to examine. 

First, we should consider whether any 

argument for unity still remains. The political 

impetus for emphasizing international unity 

among Black people at the time of Diaspora’s 

introduction was, in fact waning. Pan-Africanism 

had largely accomplished the goal of liberating 

African and Caribbean nations from 

colonial rule. However liberation did not necessarily 

mean equality, particularly for internally 

colonized populations in The United States and 

elsewhere. As cultural collaboration eclipsed 

political cooperation as the primary form of interaction 

for the Diaspora, deeper and more 

pervasive issues continued to exist. 

Among the many things that 2020 has tried 

to show us has been the clear fact that racism 

and oppression continue to shape and even end 

Black lives around the world. But 2020 not only 

highlighted the problem, it demonstrated the 

potential for political cooperation between international 

Black communities. The Black Lives 

Matter Movement exploded in 2020, becoming 

a global movement as the deaths of George 

Floyd and Breonna Taylor at the hands of police 

sparked massive protests around the world. 


Reference 

Inspired by the American movement and similar 

incidents in their own countries, activists such 

as Assa Traoré and Djamila Ribeiro have brought 

attention to the problems of racism and police 

violence in places such as Australia, France, and 

Brazil as well as Nigeria. In considering unity 

therefore, there remains, not only the cultural 

basis but an ongoing need. 

Still the question remains. Unity or difference? 

Are our truest selves are found in our 

points of overlap or divergence? Only it turns 

out that this isn’t really much of a question, 

because the two are not mutually exclusive. 

Unity presupposes difference. In the 

absence of difference there exists only a single 

whole, of which unity is a prerequisite. This is 

true whether discussing a single human body 

or humanity as whole. The point of difference 

between any two forms is perforce the 

point of unity, if it is to exist, because prior to 

difference, unity is not possible. Therefore a 

diaspora, like every other cultural category, 

must be an articulation — a knitting together of 

distinguishable bones, because if dispersal had 

not differentiated our cultures then diaspora 

could not unite them. 

So What? 

Between the two poles of this argument, the 

question is primarily one of emphasis. There are 

things that Diaspora cultures have in common 

and things that are unique to each. Neither can 

be said to exclusively house that which is truly 

or essentially us because what we are, regardless 

of which culture we come from (often more 

than one), is a function of both things together. 

Strip everything that is unique from any Diaspora 

culture and what remains will not be a pristine 

version of an ancient African original. Yet if we 

define ourselves only by our distinctions, we 

could easily lose sight of each other. 

Arguably, this was the case when, in 2015, 

British-born, Nigerian journalist Zipporah 

Gene penned the article, “Black America, please 

stop appropriating African clothing and tribal 

marks.” Targeting the incorporation of various 

African religious and cultural symbols in the 

fashion choices of African Americans attending 

AfroPunk, the article cuts a wide swath by 

asking the question, “Can Black people culturally 

appropriate one another?” deciding ultimately 

that we can and, at least in the case of African 

Americans, we do. 

While Gene’s argument garnered widespread 

response at the time, the sentiment itself 

was not new. In 1995, Nigerian scholar, Olufemi 

Taiwo published, “Appropriating Africa: An 

Essay on New Africanist Schools.” In his introduction, 

the relationship of African Americans 

to Africa is reduced to Africa, “[serving] generations 

of Americans on African descent as 

a beacon of inspiration in the face of incredible 

odds…,” and African Americans, “[seeing] in 

Africa and its history, such as they understand it, 

a source for narratives and forms of socio-political 

discourse to counter the racist denials of 

African contributions to…United States history 

and civilization.” 

The argument of appropriation from both 

Gene and Taiwo insists that African Americans 

are accessing cultures that they have no connection 

and therefore no right to. Looking at 

the combination of symbols in the dress of any 

one AfroPunk attendee, Gene calls the result, 

“a hodgepodge, a juxtaposition.” And while to 

her “it screams ignorance and cultural insensitivity,” 

violating what she describes in another 

article as a strict covenant among Africans to 

remain within their specific cultural boundaries, 

she is perhaps missing the internal logic that 

for a person of any Diaspora culture, “a right 

mess of [African] regional, ethnic and cultural 

customs,” is exactly what we are. To pare down 

that connection to any one location or ethnicity, 

even if confirmed genetically, would be to deny 

all the rest of what we are culturally, severing 

every other tie to the continent and to our own 

unique histories. 

Gene’s argument not only dismisses the 

connection of Diaspora cultures to African 

symbols, it forgets the history of figures such as 

DuBois and Nkrumah collaborating to introduce 

kente cloth as an international fashion trend 

specifically to foster a sense of global Black 

unity. Similarly Taiwo ignores the history of 

collaboration between African, American 

and Caribbean communities throughout the 

colonial period by casting the relationship as 

a one-way syphoning of meaning — African 

Americans taking from Africa that which they 

don’t understand to provide that which they 

don’t have. This series has hopefully shown, at 

least in the smallest part, there was and is a little 

more to it than that. 

Both cases demonstrate, as Gilroy 

might attest, the dangers of geographically-based 

cultural essentialisms. Fellow Black 

Brit Zipporah Gene makes a particularly 

interesting argument in that regard. Gilroy 

describes Black British culture as defining 

itself, “crucially as part of a diaspora,” actively 

making and remaking itself out of the raw 

cultural material provided by Black communities 

in the Americas and Caribbean. By the 

rules of appropriation Gene sets down, that 

culture would be either completely impossible, 

or guilty of appropriation on a massive scale. 

More specifically, these examples show 

how diaspora’s emphasis on difference can 

come at the cost of recognizing our innate connection, 

causing us to misrecognize moments 

of cultural intersection as attacks on cultural 

soverignty. To deny ourselves these connections 

would be tragic, culturally, while at the same 

time causing us to miss important opportunities 

to work together across boundaries on issues 

that affect us all. This does not absolve African 

Americans or members of any Diaspora culture 

of the important responsibility to educate 

ourselves on the meanings of the cultural 

artifacts of any other Diaspora culture, but it 

does draw an important distinction between interpretation 

and appropriation. 

The shift from Pan-Africanism’s underlying 

African self to Diaspora’s focus on cultural 

specificity was a massive shift in how Black 

people around the world understood themselves 

in relationship to one another. With 

scholars such as Hall, Gilroy, and Edwards 

among many others, leading the way it paved the 

road to the rich, complex tapestry of cultures 

that we enjoy today as the African Diaspora. But 

there must be balance, because left unchecked 

that focus can lead to a place where difference is 

all we have and diaspora devolves into a series 

of competing ethnocentrisms, which to be fair, 

has always been a concern. But if neither unity 

nor difference are, by themselves, the defining 

characteristic of the African Diaspora, it begs 

the question, what is? AC 


Sounds 

(POP)CULTURE/SOCIAL ISSUES 

Brain Food 

12 Podcasts Catch to in 2021 

Before 2020, podcasts were the ultimate entertainment for the multitasker. Listening in transit, 

at the gym, or while busy at home made podcasts a liminal mode of entertainment, keeping us 

company during our tasks, but not necessarily taking all of our focus. Despite the 2020 lockdowns, 

the pauses on work commutes, and gym sessions, podcasting not only remained relevant, it increased 

in popularity. What we learned in 2020 is that listening to podcasts can be a focused activity; an 

intimate engagement with the stories and advice that hosts want to share with their audience. While 

podcasting platforms and audiences weren’t necessarily diverse at its start, the number of Black 

listeners and content creators is on the rise. In a time of sensory overload, of tumultuous news and 

the exhaustive everyday, podcasts centering on the Black experience can be a space of meditation, 

healing, laughter, and community. This month, we’re taking a moment to showcase an array of 

podcasts created, hosted, and produced for Black audiences. Out of the overwhelming (and exciting!) 

number of great Black podcasts, these were chosen for their excellent reporting and journalism, the 

expertise of their hosts, and their ability to engage the listener with rich storytelling and provoking 

conversation. Here is AphroChic’s Podcast Playlist for 2021. 

Words by Ruby Brown 

It’s Lit! features weekly 

interviews with Black authors, 

discussing their work and their 

inspiration. Hosts Danielle 

Belton and Maiysha Kai, two 

accomplished writers, dive 

deep into Black literature and 

broader cultural experience. 

podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/ 

the-root-presents-its-lit 

Named a 2020 Pulitzer Prize 

Finalist in Audio Reporting, 

Ear Hustle tells stories from 

inside and outside of prison, 

interviewing individuals about 

their experiences in prison and 

their lives before and after 

incarceration. 

earhustlesq.com/listen 

Code Switch was named Apple 

Podcast’s Show of the Year for 

2020. Since its start in 2016, 

Shereen Marisol Meraji and 

Gene Demby have hosted this 

weekly hub for POC journalism 

and news. 

npr.org/sections/codeswitch/ 

1619 is a five-episode 

audio series published for 

the 400th anniversary of 

the beginning of American 

slavery. Nikole Hannah-Jones 

hosts this exploration into 

the origins of Blackness and 

the history of enslavement. 

nytimes.com/2020/01/23/ 

podcasts/1619-podcast.html 

Strange Fruit provides a 

perspective on politics, pop 

culture and the Black queer 

experience. Dr. Kaila Story and 

Jaison Gardner host and bring 

listeners to the intersection of 

race, sexuality, and gender. 

npr.org/podcasts/440577316/ 

strange-fruit 

Resistance was produced in 

response to the protests of the 

summer of 2020. Host Saidu 

Tejan-Thomas Jr. confronts 

the feelings of hopelessness 

and hopefulness surrounding 

police violence and the Black 

Lives Matter movement. 

gimletmedia.com/shows/ 

resistance 

WELLNESS/ADVICE 

DESIGN/ART 

Hosted by licensed 

psychologist Dr. Joy Harden 

Bradford, Therapy for Black 

Girls is a weekly podcast on a 

mission to destigmatize mental 

health issues and make therapy 

accessible for Black women. 

therapyforblackgirls.com/ 

podcast/ 

Truth be Told is an advice show, 

comforting and invigorating, 

with a variety of topics covered 

weekly by host Tonya Mosley 

and her guests. 

kqed.org/podcasts/truthbetold 

Registered dietitian 

nutritionists, Wendy Lopez and 

Jessica Jones, host this weekly 

podcast centering on food 

and wellness. Food Heaven is a 

space to learn about intuitive 

eating and how to incorporate 

self-love into your healthcare. 

foodheavenmadeeasy.com/ 

podcast/ 

Besides the amazing design 

talent showcased by a 

different guest every week and 

the equally impressive host 

Maurice Cherry, Revision Path 

is the first podcast to be added 

to the permanent collection 

of the Smithsonian’s National 

Museum of African American 

History and Culture. 

revisionpath.com/ 

If you’re looking for more Black 

creativity after Revision Path, 

try Studio Noize, hosted by 

artists and printmakers, Jamaal 

Barber and Jasmine Williams. 

Studio Noize features Black art 

and artists across mediums 

and across the diaspora. 

studionoizepodcast.com/ 

AphroChic's One Story Up 

podcast is a celebration of the 

culture of the African Diaspora 

and the stories that create 

it. Jeanine Hays and Bryan 

Mason sit down with creatives, 

innovators, and tastemakers to 

highlight the intersection and 

overlap of these fields while 

elevating and expanding our 

notion of Black culture, one 

story at a time. Listen on your 

favorite podcast platform, and 

watch on Instagram Live. 

84 aphrochic

PINPOINT 

Artists & Artisans | Hot Topic | Who Are You

ARTISTS & ARTISANS 

Dream of Me: The Surreal Self-Portraiture of Fares Micue 

There’s nothing more mysterious than a dream — and nothing more meaningful. An 

entire world made up of only one mind, a place where anything can happen and all that 

does is a reflection of that mind alone. In dreams, the emotions are laid bare, though 

they come wearing guises from all the corners of our minds. Like the emotions, dreams 

can be bewildering, frightening, and most of all, instructive, though the lessons may be 

hard to grasp. To help us better navigate our own inner worlds, fine art photographer 

Fares Micune graciously offers us a tour of her own. 

In 2009, when Fares first picked up a 

camera to try her hand at shooting, it was not 

with the intention of beginning an art career, 

becoming her own muse, or trying to convey 

the varying realities of human emotion. All 

of that came later. By her own admission, 

all she was after at first were some pretty 

photos. But six years later, she realized that 

her hobby had become a passion and she 

would have to follow where it led. 

Originally from Lanzarote, a Spanish-administered 

territory in the Canary 

Islands, Fares had always wanted to be a 

storyteller. In her own dreams, it seemed 

that aspiration would lead her to a career 

in acting. But in photography she found she 

had the same ability to share her stories and 

convey her feelings, but in a world that was 

hers alone to shape and where hers was the 

only voice being heard. 

Fares’ style is minimal, but far from 

simple. An avowed self-portraitist, her 

work eschews busy backgrounds or an 

overabundance of elements. Instead, she 

works to keep the focus where it belongs, 

drawing from her own experiences, reflections, 

and an endless creativity to shape an 

image around a single, evocative pose — 

often highlighted by a single bright shade. 

Balloons, flowers, and even paper cranes 

play alternating roles, typically obscuring 

the artist's face as she lets her body do most 

of the work in telling the story. The color of 

her brown skin is often a central element in 

pieces like, “Believe to See” or “Memories of 

a Rainy Day,” where she either stands alone 

against a black background or provides the 

middle ground between colors. The effect is 

ethereal, moving, and above all, beautiful. 

Though the emotions she portrays in 

her work run the entire spectrum, the artist 

maintains a commitment to positivity, both 

for herself and in what she hopes others 

will see. “I want my images to give hope,” 

she shares, “and teach people to appreciate 

themselves, to love, dream, and believe that 

everything is possible if we believe it is.” By 

becoming the conduit of her own emotions 

through whimsical poses and fantastic 

compositions, Fares Micue hopes to help 

us better connect with ourselves. If she 

succeeds, then one day changing the world 

we have into the one we need could feel as 

simple as waking up from a dream. AC 


Previous Page: Believe to See 

Right: Cultivate Your Mind 

88 aphrochic

ARTISTS & ARTISANS 

Focused Energy 

Writing a New Chapter 


Left: Wings to Your Dreams 

Above: Memories of a Rainy Day 

issue six 93

HOT TOPIC 

Attention 21st Century: It’s Time to Grow Up 

Centuries are like decades. The first few years of one are mostly indistinguishable 

from the last few years of the one before. But eventually, new ideas and directions 

develop — often by recognizing the limitations of what came before — and slowly, an 

identity emerges. 

We are now firmly into the second 

decade of the 21st century. Despite several 

pivotal moments, this century has yet to 

fully define itself or honestly evaluate the 

problems that have developed with ideas, 

systems, and paradigms that have run their 

course — and we continue to suffer for it. 

The year 2020 was a masterclass in the 

shortcomings of our society in many areas 

that we consider permanent. But they all 

had beginnings, so they can have ends. Here 

are a few things we need to admit that we’ve 

outgrown in the 21st century. 

The Profit-First Society 

When a nation forms its perspective 

on the relative value of people-to-profit by 

enslaving large portions of its population, 

there’s little question of where its priorities 

lie. While slavery is long past, it continues 

to shape our society and our perspective on 

people as “human resources.” Over the years 

our comfort with economic winners and 

losers has become increasingly problematic. 

But with the advent of the COVID-19 crisis 

the obvious flaws in this profit-first approach 

are revealed in all of the ways that it refuses 

to let us end this pandemic and all that we 

won’t do for each other while we’re in it. 

By this time last year, we had a fairly 

good idea about how to beat the SARS-CoV- 

2 virus. Wearing masks, washing hands, 

and most of all staying home promised to 

be the keys to stemming the tide. And to 

the extent they were implemented, they 

worked. Yet a year later, rather than seeing 

the end of the pandemic, we’re recovering 

from its deadliest period. Undoubtedly 

one of the major factors in the ongoing 

back-and-forth of infections and deaths has 

been our unwillingness to clearly privilege 

the public health's need to stay home over 

the economic need to open up. Against 

the dictates of both sense and science, 

governors and mayors around the country 

have played a dangerous game with restaurants, 

bars, and schools. And it’s not difficult 

to understand the reasons why. 

Reports on the impact of the virus 

routinely mention the economic toll in the 

same breath and often before the cost in 

lives. Governmental support for households 

struggling with lost ability to participate 

in the economy as workers or consumers 

is given a bit at a time. Lawmakers visibly 

struggle to balance a mountainous death 

toll with the fear of spending too much on 

helping people to survive. Certainly there 

are economic realities to be faced, but the 

clearest is that an economy preserved at 

the expense of the people whose work and 

spending support it is unlikely to thrive. But 

in a profit-first society, calls for suspended 

rents and mortgages are met with deferrals 

that promise bulk payments of back rent 

at their conclusion. Calls for grants to 

support small businesses are met with loans 

designed to profit from the debt. And those 

who can’t work from home are still being left 

with the choice to go out and risk disease or 

stay home and risk eviction. But it doesn’t 

end there. 

There are numerous other examples of 

how a profit-first model is failing us, many of 

them exacerbated by the pandemic. Possibly 

the most overlooked is what we’ve learned 

about the healthcare system, who can access 

it, and what they can get out of it. As conversations 

accumulate about the disproportionate 

impact COVID has had on communities 

of color, disparities in wealth and access 

to healthcare are quick to be mentioned. 

But rarely is it ever questioned why the two 

should go hand in hand. We have become 

comfortable with the position that healthcare 

works on the same basis as every other 

transactional system in this country — you 

get what you pay for. Yet underlying this is 

the quintessential American assumption 

that life, health, and comfort are the right 

of every person to pursue, but only belong 

to those who can afford them. The rest of us 

can take our chances. But in a moment where 

the interdependent nature of public health 

is being made very clear, the rush to reopen 

schools so parents can return to work seems 

a bit short-sighted. One infected child will 

infect others; then teachers and parents; 

then workplaces, homes, and communities. 

And we know this, because it’s exactly how 

we got to where we are now. 

Regardless of what Adam Smith may 

have argued, lust-for-profit has never 

led anyone to their best selves. But when 

a virus is devouring the world and we 

won’t do what’s needed to keep people 

from it, or when killer storms knock out 

power to entire states and collapsed power 

companies seize the opportunity to price 

gouge cold and hungry people, the failings 

of a profit-driven society are clear. It’s an 

old idea. It’s not working anymore. We’ve 

outgrown it. 

White Supremacy 

When Malcolm X called the Kennedy 

assassination a case of “America’s chickens 

coming home to roost” it was one of the 

most controversial moments of his career. 

The statement horrified many in Black and 

white communities alike. Still, there’s a logic 

to it that echoes today. 

America was sowing violence both internationally 

with the Vietnam War and domestically 

with its war against Black people, 

making it difficult, from Malcolm’s perspective, 

for the nation to feign shock when that 

violence returned to claim one of their own. 

Only two short months into 2021, the circumstances 

have been strikingly similar. 

As people of color living out the dark 

legacy of this country’s foundational trauma, 

we’ve been over this one for a while. Still, it 

has been interesting to watch the events of 

this year, beginning with the January 6 insurrection 

at the capitol and culminating in 

the second acquittal of Donald Trump. For 

many of us, the interest was not in the events 

themselves but in watching the nation feign 

shock as it comes to grips with the reality 

that America has spent 245 years building a 

society where it is extremely difficult to hold 

a white person accountable for their crimes. 

As the only president in U.S. history 

to have been impeached twice, Donald 

Trump might be America’s biggest chicken 

ever — but he didn’t make white people 

angry. He harnessed that anger, weaponized 

it, merged it with a personality cult built 

around his image. He also used it to disrupt 

the peaceful transfer of power in an attempt 

to overturn a democratic election. But 

he didn’t create it. Even before January 6, 

hoards of armed, angry white people acting 

in contravention of the law were a trend as 

old as the first lynch mobs and as recent as 

Words by Bryan Mason 

94 

Photos by Life Matters 

aphrochic issue six 95

HOT TOPIC 

the armed assaults on the Michigan and 

Oregon state capitols that preceded the D.C. 

insurrection. What they have in common, 

from the 45th president on down, is that 

almost none of them were ever held accountable 

for their actions. A Texas judge 

even allowed one January 6 insurrectionist 

to go on vacation in Mexico because she had 

already paid for the trip. 

These difficulties aren’t reserved high 

offices and acts of treason either. They 

extend as well to crimes far more ridiculous, 

yet equally dangerous. Earlier this 

year, charges were dropped against Amy 

Cooper, the so-called “Central Park Karen,” 

who attempted to have a Black man arrested 

in New York for asking her to put her dog 

on a leash. Though the charges against her 

carried as much as a year in prison, prosecutors 

dropped the case because Cooper 

agreed to go to therapy. 

This list could go on forever, but the 

punchline would remain the same. We 

know that this is not an issue we can simply 

outgrow, it must be uprooted and removed. 

But while the Republican Party is shrinking, 

much of what remains is becoming more 

tightly wedded to Trump. And they’re going 

local, attempting to pass laws in state legislatures 

that would allow them to do in 

the next election what they couldn’t in the 

last. So if you didn’t like living in Donald 

Trump’s America and don’t want to again, 

we have work to do. The best sign of growth, 

however, is that between the protests of 

2020, the riot of 2021, and the overwhelming 

difference in police reaction to each, more 

and more people are declaring themselves 

ready to start uprooting. 

Post-Modernism 

If establishing the identity of a new 

century involves evaluating and potentially 

rejecting old paradigms, then this is one that 

deserves some attention. Many of the issues 

we’re dealing with today stem from the fact 

that post-modernism is beginning to show 

its age. As much as anything else, before 

the 21st century can begin to define itself on 

its own terms, this philosophy — or at least 

certain aspects of it — needs to be laid to rest. 

If Modernism may be briefly and vastly 

oversimplified as focusing on the centralization 

of meaning through the establishment 

of such institutions as Colonialism, 

discrete academic disciplines and white 

normativity, then post-modernism may be 

equally defined by its push to decentralize 

meaning through its active disruption 

of concepts of normativity and universal 

truth and the democratization of speech 

through the introduction of tools like social 

media. We can say that Pan-Africanism with 

its central focus on Africa and the universal 

African-ness of Black people and Colonialism 

with its centralization of power among 

European empires were both Modernist 

institutions. Meanwhile Neo-colonialism 

and Diaspora, with their emphasis on decentralization, 

are both post-modern in 

nature. 

Of course there’s nothing wrong with 

any of this. Post-modernism emerged 

largely as a reaction to the clear deficiencies 

of a world in which Eurocentrism and 

patriarchy were the established norm 

for just about everything and the means 

of discourse were tightly controlled and 

regulated. To it’s credit, post-modernism 

did much to combat these issues and create 

space for new conversations. Yet like any 

idea, when pushed too far its own cracks 

begin to show, which is where we are now. 

Pushed too far, post-modernism’s 

rejection of universal truth becomes indistinguishable 

from a rejection of objective 

fact, essentially leaving all of reality as 

a matter of opinion with no meaningful 

recourse for arguing against a stated perspective. 

The democratization of speech 

eventually falls into a place where things like 

expertise, education and experience are no 

longer counted as meaningful requisites to 

authority on any given subject. The disastrous 

consequences of either eventuality 

would be easily imagined, but why bother 

imagining them? We’ve been living with 

them for the last twenty years. 

What is bubble culture but a group of 

people who, having selected the sources 

they agree to be authoritative, often regardless 

of education or expertise, adhere to 

the version of reality that they subjectively 

create even in conflict against quantifiable, 

objective fact? Combine this state of affairs 

with a profit-first society that will happily 

sell any version of reality that people will 

buy and call it news, and a white supremacist 

history that all but indemnifies certain 

segments of society from prosecution and 

suddenly the events of January 6th are no 

longer an anomaly, they’re an inevitability — 

the logical conclusion of a worn out philosophy 

pushed well beyond its breaking point. 

Conclusion 

Not every bad idea with a shelf life is a 

tradition. And not every tradition needs to 

be upheld. We are well past the point where, 

“That’s the way it works,” is an acceptable 

answer because everything that’s happening 

in the world right now, from police violence 

to climate change, is screaming at us that 

it’s not working anymore. We can no longer 

afford to pretend that economies are more 

real than the lives and deaths of the people 

who comprise them. We can no longer afford 

to pretend that white privilege just happens 

without constant reinforcement through 

white supremacist structures woven into 

every part of our society. And we can no 

longer afford to pretend that reality is at all 

points mutable, that we’re not subject to circumstances 

that we don’t agree with or that 

we don’t have to contend with facts that we 

don’t like. 

Between planet-wide climate change, 

a planet-wide health crisis, and planet-wide 

social injustice, there are plenty of reasons 

for us to wake up to the need for new ideas, 

but that doesn’t mean we necessarily will. 

First we have to acknowledge the need and 

be honest about the direction in which we 

have to go. But there is good news. We have 

some very promising options for our next 

philosophical epoch, like Intersectionality. 

Already a popular term, as coined by 

Kimberlé Crenshaw and extrapolated by 

Patricia Hill Collins, Intersectionality could 

be the right philosophical lens for the 21st 

century. Building from a social justice perspective 

could have wide-reaching applications 

that influence new forms of economy 

and healthcare. 

Whatever direction we choose to go 

in, one thing is certain: Time will move on. 

Eventually humanity will find itself in the 

first decades of another century, again 

facing all of the things that old, outmoded 

structures can’t do. How much we will suffer 

for it and for how long will be determined 

largely by how quick we are to wake up to 

the need for something new, because as we 

are proving now, the problems are patient. 

They will wait for us to figure it out. So ok, 

21st century. We had a bumpy childhood and 

a wild adolescence, but we’re in our 20s now, 

and it’s time to grow up. AC 


WHO ARE YOU 

Name: 

Ruby Brown 

Based In: 

Miami 

Occupation: 

Recent college grad, 

AphroChic intern 

Currently: 

Settling into a new 

city and painting on 

tiny canvases. 

“Black culture is storytelling.” 

98 aphrochic

AphroChic Magazine: Issue No. 6

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