on braided essays.
in braided essays, we gather ideas, stories, and often disconnected prose into strands, then like our hair, weave them together to communicate how the seemingly random, unkempt, and disjointed nature of life can be read as a beautiful whole.
— kendra v.
My life so far has felt like a collection of vignettes. Moments that I thought were unrelated are suddenly beginning to make sense as part of a greater story whose end I won’t be able to tell when all is said and done. I’m realizing it isn’t the end that matters most, or even the start. It’s the moments in the middle that will leave an impression on my little corner of this world. The best part is I get to tell this part. The chapters about love, grief, hair, and life itself.
After the new year, a friend of mine shared a post from Instagram with an invitation to join a class titled “Braid My Hair,” led by Black artist and writer Alisha Acquaye. Here is how she/they captioned it:
hi! I’m starting the new year with a writing workshop all about braided essays. this fun and creative essay structure asks us to weave 3 or more themes together to support a compelling, cohesive idea - just like braiding hair. we’ll read and discuss braided essays by black writers, and write our very own ⛓️🖤🪢
this workshop is meant for you if you have a multitude of related ideas but are not sure how to connect the dots between them. lets play, explore, and think deeply about how our stories support a larger vision.
if you’re interested in taking this 4 week class, head to my bio and fill out the short google form. “Braid My Hair” is space is for black writers 🖤 this is a paid workshop, but I’m offering sliding scale ⚖️. class starts next monday at 6pm est.
When I read it, I felt a flood of certainty and fear in equal parts. My body’s way of saying “Hell. Yes.” I’d been playing with the idea of writing the rest of my story, after sharing a small part of it through Black & Brown In The Middle. My story isn’t particularly unique or extraordinary, but I’m learning to carve out space for myself to be seen, heard, and understood in the same way I do for my community. I knew I wanted to write it, but I didn’t know how. Knowing me, it would have to be about hair— so much of life is. How does one honor her story and each of its themes in a meaningful way?
Through this class, I was able to explore the idea of telling stories through personal essays, and more fittingly, in the form of a braid. Even better that there could be many braids, as they’ve often been on top of my head. Each strand made stronger by the other, while sometimes having a mind all its own. At times love is thicker than grief, and at other times hair is lost. All of it together makes a life.
In my memory, there has not been one story of one of these without the others. Life. Love. Grief. Hair. Naturally.
