Stardust Story: Finding My Voice, Embracing Identity, Fluidity, and Taking Up Space

Hi, Galactic Star! 🌟

Let’s hop aboard my cosmic time machine and journey through time.

February 2025 – Short Journal Thought

The past few weeks have been heavy. Low energy, low motivation, just a sense of stagnation. With everything happening, moving forward has felt daunting. So, I’ve been sitting still, reflecting on my journey, my “why,” and searching for what truly brings me joy. When I'm identifying what doesn’t serve me, I’m asking myself:

• Why is this not serving me?
• What about this experience or situation is not aligned with my goal of pursuing joy and purpose?
• What steps can I take to move towards joy?
• How do I remind myself, on the rough days, the okay days, the good days, that my story matters? That I matter.

One of my favorite quotes reminds me: To find where you’re going, you have to get lost.

The Big Chop

One major step in my self-exploration journey came in December 2022, when I decided to shave my hair off. It wasn’t just a haircut; it was a reclamation. A shedding of past expectations, a release from the weight of assimilation, and a step into a more authentic version of myself.

For years, I relaxed my hair, a practice framed as “easier” and more “appropriate.” My mom wanted me to fit in, to have “nice hair,” the kind of hair that society deemed acceptable. Growing up, the beauty standards I saw in mainstream media reinforced this idea, straight, blonde hair was the standard. And I internalized it. I believed if I looked like them, I would belong.

As I got older, maintaining relaxed hair became difficult. In college, I would have to travel between states just to get my hair done. COVID made it even harder. I remember the struggle, my sister and I attempted to relax each other’s hair, even enlisting my stepmom at one point. Rough doesn’t even begin to describe it.

By the time I moved to Seattle in 2020, finding a hairdresser became a whole new challenge. I was lucky to find two stylists, but I noticed the toll the chemicals had taken on my hair. My scalp was dry and irritated, my hair thinning from years of processing. I knew something had to change.

   

The first photo is me in undergrad and the second photo is me in 2021.

So, in December 2022, I did the big chop. It was about more than just my hair. It was about freeing myself. Freeing my scalp from chemicals. Freeing myself from expectations. Reclaiming a piece of my Blackness that I had been conditioned to suppress.

 

 

The first photo is after I chopped off the initial inches (I forgot to take the last last photo), the second photo is the second chop, the third is after my friends had shaved the rest of my hair off, and the final photo is me in nine days later.

And yet, the response to my hair spoke volumes. I remember wearing a long, wavy wig to work and receiving a flood of compliments. But when I returned to my natural twists? Silence. The only people who acknowledged my hair’s growth and health were my Black coworkers. That contrast stuck with me.

• Are people that uncomfortable with my Black hair?
• Is the fact that any person touching a Black person’s hair is absolutely unacceptable that even talking about it feels uncomfortable? 
• Were people uncomfortable with my short “buzz” cut and twists that they choose to ignore it? 
• Must I conform to femininity to achieve an ounce of recognition?

 

The first photo is the wig I was wearing, and the second photo is an example of how I normally wear my twists (they are longer now).

Self-Discovery and Fluidity

Shaving my head opened a door to self-exploration. It gave me the freedom to embrace my gender expression in ways I never had before. In early 2023, I started playing with the idea of drag. I experimented with makeup, wore purple wigs, something my mom never let me do because of “too many chemicals,” and even shaved my eyebrows. It was liberating. It was another step toward fluidity, toward breaking out of the boxes I had been placed in.

 

Covering your eyebrows is a journey and one that I am still on.

   

I still think about shaving off my eyebrows at least once a month. Like look at that crisp purple eyebrow end *chiefs kiss.*

 

Having purple hair was always a childhood dream of mine and now I can adorn myself with purple hair whenever I want to.

Then came another shift, my pronouns.

In Spring/Summer 2023, I moved from she/her to she/they. It was an exploratory phase of realizing: I can express myself however I want. By Fall/Winter 2023, I transitioned from she/they to they/she, and eventually to they/them. It was a journey of allowing myself space, to exist, to change, to be fluid without rigidity.

This is by far one of my favorite headshots I've ever taken. Aside from the green and my melanin poppin; it showcases my natural hair, my purple eyebrows, my smile (that I have grown to appreciate especially my laugh lines), and my off-centered necklace. I point out the off-centered necklace because at first I really wanted to take another photo but the part of me, personally and as an artist, that I'm learning to embrace is imperfection. Everything does not have to be "perfect" it's the "imperfections" that truly remind us we're real, we're human.

But with fluidity came friction.

I’ve always known that in most spaces, my Blackness is the first thing people see. But now, my queerness, my gender expression, and my identity intersect in ways that demand acknowledgment. And let’s be real, it’s exhausting. Introducing myself, correcting misgendering, reminding people my name is Kassidy with a K (bolded, enlarged, emphasized in email signatures). Small acts that, to others, might seem insignificant, but to me? They matter.

A dear coworker once told me, “Say it with your chest. Let them know what your name is and that they spell it correctly.” That reminder has stuck with me. (Also, you have to type my name in to email me so you either don’t even try, or you go out of your way to spell my name incorrectly.)

Taking Up Space

Some days, I’m tired. I’m tired of reintroducing myself. Tired of navigating rooms where I am often the youngest, the only Black person, the only Black queer person. Tired of deciding when to correct misgendering and when to conserve my energy.

But I’m reminding myself, it’s a privilege for others to be able to experience any part of me. It’s a privilege to find my voice and use it. Even when I’m exhausted, I don’t want to give up. I want to take up space. I want to make more space.

I want a world where introductions are simple. Where I can say, “Hi, my name is Kassidy, they/them.” And the world meets me where I am, without question, without hesitation.

Finding my voice is an ongoing process. It’s messy. It’s raw. It’s real. But it’s mine. And that is something worth celebrating. So, I’ll keep moving forward, through the cosmic dust of uncertainty, carving space in the universe because my story matters. And so does yours.

With Cosmic Support,
Kassidy