Wanderlove: The Beauty of Black Women Showing Up in the World
It was the summer of 1994, and the entire scene felt like a movie.
The sound of a rustic train rumbling over the tracks was the backdrop for our seven-hour long commute to León. I had barely gained my footing after experiencing severe jet lag and the obvious language difference. The host family warmly greeted me and escorted me to my private quarters. I had exclusive access to the entire lower half of their home – a stately residence that felt too quiet and too posh for a 16-year-old from the United States.
Before I could catch my breath, we were traveling northwest of Barcelona. I was gazing out of panoramic windows, taking in the lushest landscapes and the most exquisite architecture I had ever seen. My host sister and her close group of friends had arranged this excursion well in advance. The timing perfectly coincided with my preplanned exchange trip through the Rotary Club of Wake Forest, NC. I was one of three students chosen to travel abroad – and the only Black female. I knew it was a costly adventure, and I tried to back out of it a few times for fear of causing a financial strain on my loved ones. However, my grandmother looked at me and said, “Imani, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You must go.”
Deep in my heart, I knew that my ancestors would be on that journey with me. My high school Spanish teacher took me on a shopping spree and built up my confidence every time I stepped out of that fitting room. I was left without excuses because my village filled my cup and spoke to who they saw me becoming. So, I decided to disrupt the self-sabotage playing on heavy rotation in my mind. However, at the core, there was even more angst looming. It was undetectable and I couldn’t easily reset it with a shift in thought. My introversion kept me from saying it out loud.
It was me. My essence. My culture.
Would I be accepted? I was tall, very slender (let’s take a moment of silence for that memory, shall we?) and drenched in sun kissed, milk chocolate skin with just enough Jersey spiciness beneath the surface to keep people intrigued. My mother always told me I was beautiful, as did many others, but I thought they were simply placating a socially awkward teenager. I thought their eyes were veiled, and they chose not to see my roadmap of self-professed flaws.
To my surprise, I discovered that I was the one with skewed vision.
Spain taught me how to behold and bless my melanated majesty.
The first experience was in the Romanesque streets of León. We hiked through one of the most notorious mountains and rested at the summit where we could gaze at Portugal, Italy, and France all at once. I was basking in the warmth of the horizon when a woman walked up to me and stared with utter shock on her face. She boldly asked, “¿Eres modela?” (“Are you a model?”). I told her no and she loudly exclaimed, “¡Guapisima!” (“very pretty”), and walked away. I thought it was simply a one-off, but it became a daily occurrence. Whenever I was in public with my Castilian family, I was literally stopped in mid-stroll and lavished with compliments.
It happened while we were at dinner in the open-air shops.
It happened when I attended the family parish’s confirmation (infant baptism).
It happened when we went to the movie theater.
It happened when I went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea.
I could no longer hold on to the notion that I merely possessed selective beauty, only seen by those who were in relationship with me. The veneration that I was receiving proved two things: 1) I had subconsciously yielded to and blindly accepted America’s commercialized standards of attractiveness; 2) Moving away from the borders of my comfort zone to a region where I literally stepped into advanced time and was met with these lessons was eerily yet entrancingly symbolic.
The most powerful compliment came from my host grandmother. She was an octogenarian who commanded the family’s attention with ease, though she barely spoke above a whisper. We were watching movies one night and she turned to me and said, “I’m going to call you Moreneta. That’s who you are”. I instinctively knew that this was a defining moment for me. I asked one of my host sisters for the meaning, and she explained that the name pays homage to the Black Madonna, also known as the Lady of Montserrat. She symbolizes all things feminine, divine, and reflective of eternal hope for the church. Her words invoked my spirit to awaken from the degrading stupor that attempted to stifle Black American glamor – my glamor - into oblivion.
The irony was that they had never interacted with any other Black people besides the ones who worked in the matriarch’s paper manufacturing company. Although they consistently doled out kind words about my appearance, my presence stretched their mindsets with each passing day. They observed a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, exquisitely moving like a Maya Angelou poem in real time, and speaking their language fluently from the onset.
At the conclusion of my month abroad, my host sister flew back to America with me. However, I knew that I was crossing both literal and figurative oceans. This experience was not limited to exercising my proficiency in Spanish. It taught me how to embark on the journey of becoming fluent in self-love.
There is power when Black women step outside of the confines of western civilization’s narrow definition of beauty. Our relationship with ourselves (including self-talk) and our relationship with travel are intricately connected. Here are three values that we can gain from jet setting:
Boost Your Health
The BBC featured a story in May 2022 about the Mental Health Foundation’s findings on loneliness within the Black community. They specifically cited one in three Black people as having experienced those feelings. They stated, “That's compared to the general population where one in four had reported loneliness some or all of the time. One in three people aged 16-24 also said they experience loneliness. A spokesperson for the foundation says racism and social inequality could contribute to these higher rates. It surveyed 6,000 people across the UK.”
This is clearly a global dilemma that is agitated by micro and macroaggressions. The result is biased treatment towards Black people, which reactivates a cycle of physiological distress. When you travel, you awaken engagement in more physical activities than the norm. This can lead to a boost in the immune system, an increase in serotonin (the happy chemical), and the opportunity to build connections with new people. Traveling is, quite literally, good for your health.
Broaden Your Perspective
There’s nothing like venturing into unfamiliar territory to discover areas where you may have unwittingly limited yourself. Far too often, we become so regimented that we dismiss a wide array of options to reach various goals. When you’re immersed in a different culture, that’s the best time to raise your awareness about hindrances to your personal growth. No one has cornered the market on the answers to life’s challenges. Step into an unknown region, and discover ways to expand your reasoning and deduction capacities.
Build Your Resilience
That “R” word has seemed to be the bane of Black women’s existence for centuries. However, this is not a call to be superwoman or “all things to all people”. On the contrary, this is about those aspects of R&R that don’t make it to the carefully curated Instagram highlight reels. It may be an unexpected encounter with incompetent service professionals or a rare instance of missing luggage. These are the moments beyond our control, an unavoidable aspect of life. However, knowing how to pivot in times of ambivalence and pull on our resourcefulness is a critical skill. As Black women, that’s been our cultural trademark since the beginning of time. There’s something about the adrenaline rush of self-discovery that emerges when uncertainty abounds.
Life is for living, not limiting yourself to silos. Society has already made that unsuccessful attempt with us. There’s no need to stay committed to portraying a more digestible version of ourselves for those who are intimidated by our God-given opulence. We were placed in this world to peel back its layers and dive in without hesitation. And that truth flows from the crown of our gloriously textured hair to the soles of our feet that have traveled more rugged terrain than most could survive. Around the world, we are hailed as the standard for exotic excellence. Let’s reiterate this truth to ourselves and subsequent generations. It needs to be heard.
And when you go traipsing across the globe, make sure to keep your elegance turned up at full volume.
Because wanderlove is a whole vibe.
Just for us.
Imani Brooks-Wheeler is a C-Suite strategist, Speaker, and Spiritual Care Advisor & Mediator for High-Net-Worth individuals. Explore more about her powerful journey at www.ImaniBrooksWheeler.com.