Every stitch of my being is woven in the fabric of America.

Every root of the grass contains my ancestors blood.

I was born in the heart of America: Texas. Our flag waves the same colors and style, if anybody was meant to be American, it is me, but deep within every river that flows there is a beautiful culture that is born from the roses that only grow through the cracks of the concrete (quoting Tupac). My culture, African American, not rooted from Africa but born of pain and shaped in iniquity. My beauty is strange but it is a part of my soul, so much so that when one cries the entire root cries, when one raises it’s fist, we all raise in power. We are in the very essence of America.

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African Americans comes in so many colors we should be considered nations’ children. They attempt with hate to say we all look alike until they are shocked that some of us are white, Hispanic, Italian, Asian, and beyond.

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We aren’t a specific. We are stolen children that built a vision in the most outrageous circumstances, so some of us are rich and wealthy, we have yachts and our own planes, others are poor but write our own songs and dodge bullets at our playgrounds.

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You maybe wondering how is my culture connected to fashion. We are fashion. We have our own style. It represents us but just like our culture not all are the same. The guy that wears tight trousers with a polo style tee, may not hang around the guy that wears the graphic tee and skinny jean. We are different. We don’t ask to be the same. We embrace our differences.

Go to @thebeautyofmysoul on IG to see some of the images I will show throughout the day. Here is a sneak peek into what you will see.

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It isn’t black and white. Watch our revolution of beauty unfold.

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