I first moved to the black community in 2000. Adjusting from an affluent to economically segregated city was hard. Especially fitting in with my black peers. I had to get hip on how to dress, listen to suggestive music and find my swag.

At an early age, I knew my clothes were bad and unappealing. While most of my classmates could afford Nikes, Jordans and Adidas; I had to settle with shoes from Walmart and Payless. It humbled me to not be materialistic when it comes to fashion. Now that I'm older, I do not buy new clothes often, so if I wear an outfit in total that cost over $30, I would at least like some recognition. 

To clarify, I was in grade school in Georgia from 2000-2011, so baggy pants and long or ‘gangster’ parody graphic tees were a thing.

In high school, I was able to fit in a little more with the latest fashion trends. It did not make me the coolest kid in school, but I at least had the luxury of blending in with my classmates. Nonetheless, I was a blerd, and  my glasses were discredited my black acceptance. Glasses implied weakness, whiteness and vulnerability to bullying.

The aesthetics of black boyhood relied heavily on hip-hop and prison culture. Black boys had to look the part or at least fake it either as a defense mechanism or to attract women. Deviating from the norm led to mass shaming. I remember the awkward childhood moments when young teens would make fun of me because of my clothes. I had to make do with 2 pairs of jeans (along with an extra pair that did fit) and 6 solid collar shirts. School was my only social life, so my clothes did not vary based on occasions.

Even in a magnet school, black students had little respect for me based on how I dressed. They wanted me to wear designer clothes, even though the dress code and uniform policy only allowed solid colored shirts.

Black students often gave non-black POC and whites passes on appearances. I remember three female classmates showing affection to a younger white boy. He was a country kid and did not wear flashy clothes- so I was jealous to see him win respect from black girls, while I had to overcompensate to appeal to them.

I saw this same privilege at the mall as white nerds dressed carefree, while I as a black male had to appease my people.

Once I went to college I did not had to worry about my childhood stigma, but I did see some expectation to blackness. Blackness is a complex model to live up to because no one wants to be in poverty, yet the hood lifestyle becomes appealing if money is being spent individually.

My black experience was the statistic of being raised by a divorced single mother, living in a broken community and surviving schools where students had little respect for me. It is not about whose blackness is accurate, it’s about the economic conditions versus personal choices of our clothes. The statement is that I am above living up to stereotypes that do not fit my personality.