There’s something different about growing up black and Muslim, especially in New Jersey. It’s like when I left the mosque and I left my dad, I felt unprotected, but I also felt a weird sense of pride, like I was involved in this other way of living that was cool to me.
I feel like when you say ‘activist,’ you have to have so much clarity, and I don’t always necessarily have so much clarity on how I want to help others, I just have this weird, deep urge to help other people. I’m trying to let God guide my body and use it as whatever kind of vehicle or vessel it needs to be.
In the real world, I kind of, like, thrived a little bit. The things that were awkward about me at school, like being hyper passionate, I realized, ‘Oh I’m my own person, and I have my own idiosyncrasies and nuances that I don’t mind.’
I went through this phase of Spandex, high heels, and fur coats when I was in my late teens and early twenties; before then, I lived in overalls and baggy T-shirts.
