*Creating your garden in the concrete of the sidewalk. Where there is no space, you have to make your own.*
Every few months, I return to ‘The Garden’. Where my nostrils can finally enjoy a full inhale and I can see the entire sky. My hometown, a small southern-esque town. Too north for the Southerners to fully embrace us, but too south for the Northerners to pay attention. Right in the middle, where it could be awkward, but it’s golden and just right. The people are more polite than we care to notice and the highways go on for too long. It’s too much of nothing at all, but it’s home. When I revisit this place where I’ve planted these roots of mine, the branches of my life ask me in queer amazement, “How is it up there?” “Do you like New York City?” It’s almost as if they forget we’re a mere four hours away, close enough for everyone to see for themselves.
Depending on how close the branch is to the trunk, I either fake a smile or wear my infamous flat lips. But I always pause before I truly answer, because how should I respond? As a middle-class student going to one of the most expensive universities in the country, or as a young black woman in Manhattan. These two seeds are within me, one who allows me to relate to more of my peers, while the other I could never change. Who do they really want to hear from? The pondering lasts only a second before I answer, “It could be better” because I can’t shut out the fact that I am a challenging mix of both. “How so?” the branches ask.
Well, I can tell you. From figuring out how to wash my curls in a low-pressured dorm room shower, to having conversations with privileged 20-year-old classmates who own a Bitcoin. Allow me to share a few entries of how I made living in New York City as a regular, young black woman somewhat ‘better’. No blog in the world will say it all, but they’ll all say something, and hopefully one of those things is the one you need to hear. Hopefully, my stories can provide a hand to hold when navigating the concrete jungle; and give some water to your roots when they seem harder to grow and find your system. To the black students in Manhattan, where it may be harder to find one another, welcome to Roots in the Concrete Jungle: A Black Girl’s Guide to Manhattan-ing.
Dating is like a box of chocolates in the sense that if I were to only eat chocolate, I’d end up at the hospital with scurvy.
When I first started dating at college I was so caught up in hiding myself. The buzz of putting on the perfect outfit, fixing my hair just right, doing my makeup just right. The anxious excitement waiting outside the fancy restaurants. I’d get a kick out of saying the right thing and always laughing at the right moments. Everything could be in control for those three hours. Everything could be perfect for those three hours. For the evening I was a hologram, projecting a lit up image with big white teeth and temporary charm. I was choosing the most volatile and unreliable part of my life to cling to for stability. Looking to twenty year old men for stability is like being surprised when you light a match in a room full of leaking propane.
I wasn’t eating any potatoes or protein. Both literally and metaphorically, my doctor had to berate me because drugstore ramen noodles are not a source of vitamin C or iron. Turns out the cause of my intense fatigue wasn’t much of a mystery to a professional or my mother, who I wasn’t calling enough either. Metaphorically, I was neglecting the other relationships in my life. Calling my parents made me feel weak. Hearing the voice of the person that kissed me goodnight for eighteen years made the ache in my knees feel more pronounced, and it made the dull pounding in my temple feel like an aneurysm. It was like forcing down unseasoned brussels sprouts. I didn’t want to be aware of how much I was struggling on my own or how much I wanted to be kissed goodnight still.
Friendships also made me examine myself. Friends saw me anxiously biting my nails before class, and making a joke that nobody heard at dinner, or the time the rain made my eggs and milk fall through my grocery bag on second ave. My friends loved me all the same of course, but I couldn’t hide myself from them even if I wanted to. So I gave up Friday movie nights for candlelit dinners.
I was fixating on dating because it allowed me to craft such a limited image of myself. Who I was under under dim lighting with mellow music was much better than who I was in the harsh light of day. I was neglecting the relationships with people who actually loved me. I was neglecting relationships with inanimate parts of life, like my relationship to health. Preoccupied with trying to be pretty for men, I wasn’t considering that I could be taking pride in knowing my body was well looked after. My relationship to money was strained, in other words, I kept letting money leave my pocket. Most of all I just needed to call home.
Going on like this made me physically ill. Life has a way of correcting itself though. The best cure for a lack of self-love is a heartbreak.
Olivia Sully is a Junior studying English Literature at New York University. Olivia spends most of her school and professional life writing and reading, but she likes to decompress with her paintings.
For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering student discounts in NYC, from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services.
At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful ebooks, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2023.
On January 12, at 7:00 pm eastern time, I boarded a plane headed for London. After years of wishing on every star I could count that one day I would go back to my favorite city in the entire world, this was the moment my dreams would finally come true. Atleast, that’s what I thought. I stayed for just one week before coming back home, with a suitcase full of clothes I pictured would pair so perfectly alongside the twinkling streetlights of London. My experience was not picture perfect; it was the hardest week of my entire life.
Upon arriving, I couldn’t recognize the world around me. With that, it was hard to connect to anything at all. I fell completely into myself, I stopped eating, I wouldn’t go outside my dorm room to use the kitchen, I couldn’t even get up to open the curtains, because the sight of South London looked so beautiful from my window, and it made me sick with anger that I couldn’t enjoy any of it. I’ve always battled with anxiety ever since I started elementary school, but it was here, in the middle of London, where it felt like the entire world around me was falling apart.
“Why don’t I feel happy?” I would ask myself. “Why am I so afraid?”. I met some amazing people and was able to explore a little bit, but that didn’t make me feel comfortable. Instead, it only fueled my anxiety even more, because I didn’t recognize the faces around me. Everywhere I looked it felt like there were more and more battles I would have to fight to gain even the slightest bit of comfort. All of the pain, anxiety and fear inside me finally erupted, and at 8:23 am one morning, I was presented with two choices. I could stick it out for the next four months and see if I felt better, or I could leave with her the following Wednesday and go back home.
Thinking about staying felt terrifying, but thinking about leaving seemed even worse. What would everyone think when I came home? How many people would I let down who believed that I was finally ready to embark on such a trip? Was I going to be a complete failure for my entire life? These were the questions that echoed in my mind. It felt like either choice would make me feel miserable, but I knew deep down, I was not healthy enough to be overseas by myself. So, I packed up my things and left for Jackson, New Jersey. When I arrived home, I locked myself in my bedroom and wondered if I had just made the biggest mistake in my entire life.
I like to compare myself to a shark; in order to stay alive, I have to keep moving, letting the cold saltwater of the ocean rush through my gills to give me the strength to move on, and if I stopped, I would die. And in this case, it felt like I did stop, and that I would die. I didn’t want to see my family, I didn’t want to call my friends, I couldn’t bear the mortifying ordeal of being known any longer. The only thing I felt I could do was write, and so I did.
I took out my phone and typed away in a Google document. I wrote down all of the feelings and worries I was having just to put my mind at ease. This was the moment I felt truly connected to the world again. In this small, seemingly insignificant moment, where my tired eyes gazed at the dimly lit screen of my phone as my trembling thumbs furiously typed away at the keyboard, was where I felt whole again. And this feeling of pure astonishment and passion is what I am dedicating my book to.
I want to use my story and connect it to writing, or other passion-filled projects, that give us the strength to continue forward. Moments of peril can sometimes unleash our greatest wisdom. Whether you feel you have no creativity, or you can only find inspiration in other peoples’ work, we will explore the fundamental ways of rerouting back to your own unique creative space, and channeling these worrying thoughts into works of art.
By: Alex Muniz
Alex Muniz is a Junior English Major at Pace University. She currently resides in Jackson, New Jersey where she works for Campus Clipper and Arts Management Magazine: Next Gen. Her ultimate goal is to publish a creative fiction novel and to work as a Scientific Journalist, primarily in cosmology and earth science.
For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering awesome student discounts in NYC, from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services. At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful e-books, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2015.
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