BY SUSIE LAU

In the wake of the murders in Atlanta last week of Hyun Jung Grant, Sun Cha Kim, Paul Andre Michels, Soon Chung Park, Xiaojie Tan, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Yong Ae Yue (yes, we should say their names), a tidal wave of visceral emotion has reverberated across AAPI (Asian-Americans and Pacific Islanders) communities in the US and the Asian diaspora around the world. As we universally condemn these crimes, regram the resources and statistic slides, donate to funds, and rightly learn more about why the #StopAsianHate movement has come about, so too must we look within our own spheres of influence, at the race problems that exist under our noses.

A few weeks ago in Clubhouse, a group of Asian-American friends in fashion and I were trying to unpick the hidden issues of discrimination in the fashion industry. They are hard to divorce from the roots that have lead to the rise in hate crimes against Asians during the pandemic. The issue is complex, layered and oftentimes contradictory.

Susie Lau at Paris Fashion Week in February 2020. 
© Kirstin Sinclair

Ostensibly, in the Western-lensed fashion world, East Asians have enjoyed an immense amount of success and visibility. Or more specifically, Asian-Americans have. More than a decade ago, the likes of Phillip Lim, Jason Wuand Prabal Gurung built sizeable businesses on contemporary luxury fashion not rooted in an “Asian” aesthetic. Carol Lim and Humberto Leon, the founders of the store Opening Ceremony, later became the first Asian creative directors of the esteemed French house Kenzo, itself founded by a barrier-breaking Japanese designer. In the media, you have editors in chief in Michelle Lee at Allure magazine, and Eva Chen heading up the fashion division at Instagram. And in the influencer sphere, my own path as a 1.0 fashion blogger starting out in 2006 – with peers like Bryan Boy already on the scene – was followed by waves of Asian-American fashion influencers like Chriselle Lim and Aimee Song, who now have millions of followers collectively.

The most visible proof of representation, of course, is on the runway. Established supermodels like Liu Wen and Fei Fei Sun, and the likes of He Cong and Yoon Young Bae are regularly seen on catwalks and in editorials, with new faces coming into the fold all the time.

And yet, whilst acknowledging that visible “success”, we also need to look at the things we have suppressed, because of the unspoken pressure to show gratitude for simply being allowed into an industry that embraces the appearance of inclusivity, but is still largely anchored on the idea of exclusivity. In our Clubhouse chat, former model and brand spokesperson Tao Okamoto described the feeling of being interchangeable with her other Asian peers at castings. Phillip Lim, despite his success as a designer, spoke of a “bamboo ceiling”, and being pitted against his Asian peers by largely white gatekeepers in the industry. “Being an Asian-American designer today still holds a confusing place in the fashion ecosystem,” Lim told me. “You are acceptable but not universally marketable.”

This interchangeability and invisibility also plays into the harmful appropriation of aesthetics by non-Asians. Just a year ago the girl group Little Mix collaborated with fast fashion brand Pretty Little Thing on an “Oriental” – itself a deeply offensive and loaded term – partywear collection that overlooked the cultural origins of their sexualised qipao dresses. The backlash was barely detectable. Time after time, clichéd tropes of niponism (the fetishisation of Japanese culture) such as geishas are routinely used as themes in editorials, thus eliminating other Asian cultures. The American comedian Ali Wong jokes in her Baby Cobra Netflix special that the Chinese and Japanese are often thought of as the “fancy” Asians, and Vietnamese and Filipinos the “jungle” Asians. In fashion, representation of Asian culture seems to be geared only towards the “fancy” Asians – the latter are entirely invisible.

Perhaps the most notable addition to the exhaustive list of tropes and stereotypes is the “crazy rich Asian”, expounded by the 2018 film and more recently the Netflix reality series Bling Empire. Whilst their populist representation of Asians in mainstream media is to be applauded, in fashion, it adds to the image of Asians being rabid shoppers and living extreme luxurious lives, which obviously is a wholly inaccurate reflection. According to a Bain & Company report from 2019, the spending power of the Chinese consumer both domestically and abroad accounts for more than RMB500 million – which is almost a third of the global luxury market and is set to grow further. China – or anyone who merely looks Chinese – becomes synonymous with consumerism. A walking sales commission. Or, to quote Clueless, “a ditz with a credit card”.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve gone into an office of a luxury fashion house to interview a designer and been asked if I’m looking for the flagship store. Or gone to a Bond Street store to attend a press day (previews of collections for fashion professionals), only to be told, “We’re closed. This event is for press only.” The trigger action is almost undetectable, but the cumulative effect is that you come away feeling like you don’t belong in your professional field, or that you’re lesser than your white peers. Our creative contribution can, at times, feel stifled by the appearance of looking like the “buying power”, which isn’t necessarily clout when you’re trying to forge your way in creative roles behind the scenes in fashion.

The model minority myth that is used to pit one minority against the other is closely linked to the docile stereotype that is particularly levied on Asian women in the professional world. That we’ll say nothing, won’t complain and will just put our heads down to work. Minimising. Invisibility. Quietness. These are the same words that crop up time and time again when talking about our ESEA/AAPI experiences in general and in fashion. A British-born Chinese fashion stylist, who wanted to remain anonymous, told me of haunting experiences in the industry. Of a magazine editor she once worked for, she said: “I had to be quiet and a wallflower so I wouldn’t upset her. I couldn’t wear something weird or wild – she would pick it apart. So I became nothing and asked for nothing. When anything came up about my culture, they wouldn’t really listen.”

Perhaps we were complicit in that process of wanting to assimilate, sacrificing our identity in the process. But I can already see a collective desire to speak up, encouraged by the #StopAsianHate movement.

On Simone Rocha’s front row with (l-r), Faye Wei Wei, Phoebe Collings-James, Alexa Chung and Greta Bellamacina.
© David M. Benett

Just as Black Lives Matter prompted a positive movement to amplify melanated voices, we, too, want our creative authorship in fashion to be seen and understood, and not brushed with a homogenous image. And now we can look to designers to take ownership of their culture and reshape those stereotypes in an outward way. Samuel Guì Yang is from Shenzhen but based in London, and uses the mandarin collar or facets of Chinese traditional dress in nuanced, modern ways. A Sai Ta, the British-born Vietnamese-Chinese designer, reclaims the language surrounding the humble Chinese takeaway with his hot wok tops and “spicy” aesthetic for his brand, Asai.

But in terms of representation at senior levels of fashion companies, as evidenced by a recent New York Times report which suggested that – after a wave of pledges to do better prompted by 2020’s examination of systemic racism in the wake of the death of George Floyd – very little progress has actually been made in the industry in terms of hiring Black people – in senior positions, on the board, and in the general workforce. The same fate is likely to befall ESEA/AAPI people wanting to enter fashion. 

Just as fleeting black Instagram squares and performative allyship are not good enough, we all need to take these learnings on board. To listen and shift attitudes; identify and root out the unconscious biases in the industry. And also be bold enough to amplify our cultures on our own terms. That also extends to other minorities that are not represented in their countries – namely South Asians in the UK, or Latinx communities in the USA. We are just beginning to break the cycles. Permanent change will be harder to achieve. “Personally I feel my work in the industry has shifted from making beautiful clothes to making sure I am working in the grace of purpose,” said Lim. “Purposely aligning the values of who I am with what I create, in order to cement the narrative that true beauty is a purposeful one.”

By John Blake, CNN

The Rev. Jemar Tisby describes himself as a "theological mutt." He was baptized in a Southern Baptist church, joined a White nondenominational congregation and spent much of his time attending Catholic schools.

But once he attended a small Black Baptist church in the Mississippi Delta, he found a home. Located in a former warehouse, the church had concrete floors, metal folding chairs for pews and an elderly congregation of only about 12 people.

What they lacked in size, though, they made up for in spiritual fervor. When members of the congregation began to "feel the spirit," they cried, moaned and swayed while singing spirituals like "Wade in the Water."

"It was if you were hearing the echoes of the ancestors," says Tisby, author of "How To Fight Racism: Courageous Christianity and the Journey Toward Racial Justice." "It was almost like you were transported back in time. There was a dignity and ancestral strength that they tapped into."

Members of the Fellowship Gospel Choir sing hymns at John Wesley AME Zion Church in Washington.

The Black church rituals that Tisby celebrates are in the national spotlight this week. For over 400 years, the Black church has been the central institution in the African American community, but many of its customs remain a mystery to outsiders. New research and a new documentary film could help change that.

The Pew Research Center on Tuesday is publishing a major study, "Faith Among Black Americans," that takes a sweeping look at African Americans' religious beliefs and practices. On Tuesday night PBS will premiere "The Black Church: This is Our Story, This is Our Song," a two-part documentary series produced and hosted by scholar Henry Louis Gates Jr.

Featuring interviews from such luminaries as Oprah Winfrey, singer John Legend and social critic Cornel West, the series examines "the world within a world" of the Black church's distinctive style of preaching, gospel music and blending of African faith traditions with Christianity.

"The Black church gave people a sense of value, belonging and worthiness," Winfrey says in the special. "I don't know how we could have survived as a people without it."

Reverend Raphael Warnock, then a Democratic candidate for the US Senate, speaks during a 2020 campaign rally in LaGrange, Georgia.

The Pew study and the PBS special arrive as the Black church is helping transform American politics. Black churchgoers played a critical role in President Biden's victory and helped Democrats win control of the US Senate with the election of Raphael Warnock, a Black pastor who preaches in the same Atlanta pulpit that the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. once occupied.

After four years of White evangelicals grabbing headlines, the Black church is getting its due.

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What the Pew study says

The phrase "the Black Church" has long been used by Black scholars and clergy as an umbrella term for all historically Black Protestant denominations as well as nondenominational churches with predominantly Black congregations, Pew says.

The new study, Pew's most comprehensive look at the religious practices of Black Americans, is based on interviews with at least 8,660 Black adults. For comparative purposes, researchers also posed some of the same questions to 4,574 Americans of other races.

It found that Black people are more religious than other groups in the US. While 90% of Americans overall in believe in God or a higher power, 97% of Black adults believe in the same, Pew says. And while 54% of Americans surveyed believe "evil spirits can harm," 73% of Black adults say the same.

Black Americans place a higher emphasis on religion in their lives than the US public overall

Black Americans are also more likely to say religion is "very important" in their lives, and to believe prayers to ancestors have protective power, the survey found. Most Black adults regularly engage in personal prayer, with 63% saying they pray at least once a day.

The Black church is also known for its unique culture. The study found that Black Protestants are far more likely than Black adults of other faiths to go to a church that features highly expressive worship: dancing in the aisles, speaking in tongues and shouts of "amen!"

The study also explores an integral facet of the Black church: Its stance on social justice. As Pew discovered, that activism remains essential to many African Americans.

At least 44% of Protestant Black churchgoers said they heard a sermon, lecture or discussion on race relations or racial inequality in the last year while 29% of all adults heard a sermon on the same topics during the same time period.

Most Black Americans say opposing racism is essential to their faith

A smaller percent said that regularly attending religious services was an important part of being a person of faith.

"Most Black Christians say that opposing racism is essential to being a Christian," says Besheer Mohamed, who co-authored the report along with Kiana Cox, Jeff Diamant and Claire Gecewicz.

The PBS special tells the story behind those numbers, describing the Black church as an "engine for social justice." Many of the country's best-known civil rights leaders -- King, Frederick Douglass, the activist Fannie Lou Hamer -- were motivated primarily by their Christian faith and the Black church's tradition of speaking truth to power.

"This is the story and song our ancestors bequeathed to us," says Gates, host of the PBS special. "No social institution in the Black community is more central and important than the Black church."

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Why 'getting political' is so important in the Black church

The Black church's emphasis on social justice may seem baffling to outsiders who think churches shouldn't get involved in politics. But the Black church was forged during the crucible of slavery.

Enslaved Africans drew hope from stories like Moses leading the children of Israel out of bondage. For them, Christianity was about liberation from injustice, not just personal sin.

Worshippers sing hymns during a service at the First Church of Seventh Day Adventists in Washington.

For decades the Black church was the only independent institution in the Black community that had the sufficient numbers and resources to push for social change, says Tisby, the pastor and author. Today groups like Black Lives Matter aren't as dependent on the Black church and can mobilize people on social media, he says.

That may explain some trends in the Pew survey. Despite the Black church's key place in Black life, almost half (47%) of African Americans believe that predominately Black churches are less influential today than they were 50 years ago. Only 30% think they are more influential.

The study also found that that younger Black adults are less religious and less involved in Black churches than older generations. About half of Black adults born after 1996 attend a Black church, compared to two-thirds of Black Baby Boomers.

Congregants pray and sing gospel songs during a service at the True Love Worship Center in Van Nuys, California.

Still, the Black church still wields tremendous power and resources. The church's ability to influence the 2020 election is evidence of that, Tisby says.

"The Black church isn't the only outlet for organizing and protest, but it remains the central outlet," he says.

Tisby says he is not worried about the long-term mission of the Black church. All he has to do is look at the headlines. He cites how many White evangelical churches threw their support behind former President Trump.

"I don't worry too much about the Black church,'' he says. "As long as there is racism within the White church, there will always be a Black church."

Naomi Osaka has gone through a major transformation both on and off the court. The 23-year-old who was once timid in front of cameras and press, is now using her voice to address racial injustices and more. 

Fresh off her Australian Open win last month, Osaka recently was named Glamour UK's Sports Gamechanger of the Year. She is also the covergirl for the Gamechanger's March issue of the magazine. 

It was just two years ago when she defeated the sport's icon Serena Williams in the final of the 2018 US Open. Now, Osaka has four major titles under her belt and she's also the highest paid female athlete in the world according to Forbes. Between 2019 and 2020, she raked in $37.4 million. 

The list of brand endorsements alone is worthy of the "Gamechanger" title. Osaka is currently endorsed by Nike, Louis Vuitton, Mastercard, Beats By Dre, Playstation and Nissan, just to name a few. Although she told Glamour she doesn't feel all that different from back in 2018, she does feel more confident and overall very proud of her accomplishments. 

“I don’t feel that different,” Osaka told Glamour. “But I do feel more confident and prouder of myself that all of my hard work starting from the age of three paid off. I think the moment you win a Grand Slam, there is more pressure on you to perform so that is challenging, but I’m always excited to walk into those high-pressure matches knowing I can prove myself time after time.”

In the digital feature, Osaka opens up about why she decided to step out of her comfort zone at last year's US Open and seeing her interracial parents treated differently by the world. 

“I would just watch interactions that my parents would have – because my parents, for the outside world, would be classified as an interracial couple – and sometimes they would get harassed a little bit. That’s when I started noticing that some people get treated differently,” Osaka said. 

The world No. 2 spoke about how even though she's a world-class athlete, racism still infiltrates her every day life. When going out to the store or restaurants she consciously thinks about acting  ‘proper’ in order to not draw attention to herself. 

It's situations like these and others tragic stories that have pushed Osaka to use her voice as a powerful tool for change in the game and beyond. One thing is certain, Osaka is working hard to get better both on and off the court, and she still cherishes one piece of advice from late basketball icon, Kobe Bryant. 

"He was a mentor and close friend and he helped me get through some of the toughest parts of my life as an athlete. I remember telling him I wanted to be like him, and his response was ‘No, be better.’ I will never forget that," she told Glamour. 

In words, images and video, teens across the United States show us how they have met life's challenges in the midst of a pandemic.

March 7, 2021

What has it been like to be a teenager during the first year of a historic pandemic?

The New York Times, through its Learning Network, asked the question, and more than 5,500 responses poured in.

In words and images, audio and video, they reported that it was, in many ways, a generation-defining disaster. Being trapped inside — and missing the milestones that ordinarily mark coming of age in America — was lonely, disorienting, depressing and even suffocating.

But many also surprised themselves. They bonded with siblings, discovered nature, found small comforts in Zoom-school, played games, worked out, cooked, wrote, sang, danced, painted and made videos. And, perhaps most important at a time of life focused on figuring out who you are, they reinvented themselves.

But although so many coped admirably, this generation will be forever changed. As one 16-year-old put it, “Making history is way overrated.”

This week, a year after the World Health Organization declared Covid-19 a pandemic, we share their stories. In this special project, we chose a handful of entries to show what teenagers have lost — and what they have found. Below each image, you can find edited and condensed excerpts from their artists’ statements that can tell you more about the work.

No matter how old you are, as you read you might ask yourself a question, too: How has this year challenged and changed your generation?

— Katherine Schulten, editor, The Learning Network

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1. A Generation Trapped in Its Bedroom

“For some, it was a time of reflection. For many, it was a dark period of isolation. For a generation, it was a defining collective experience.” — Parrish André, 18

WHIPPANY, N.J.

Sunnina Chen, 16

If you’re reading this, take five deep breaths.

Wasn’t that nice?

“Just breathe” became a mantra I told myself to get through the simple things. Taking the time to reflect, I realized why the Saran Wrap was suffocating me — I was the one who pulled it tight. Yes, it was placed there by my responsibilities and the uncertainty of our world, but I had the ability to let go. I let go of everything that wasn’t serving me, and took a deep breath.

CHICAGO

Stevia Ndoe, 18

Ever since I was a child, I looked forward to my 18th birthday. I thought I would suddenly gain years of knowledge and have the power to change the world. Little did I know how difficult the year of my retirement from childhood would be.

When murmurs of quarantining were becoming a reality, my family and I were stuck. My mom, an essential worker and single parent, worked all day while my younger siblings and I attended school. On top of trying to graduate from high school, I had to be a mother for a preschooler and a grade-schooler. My 18th birthday came and went, and I was still the same Stevia.

I look at the last few months and realize this is what growing up in a global crisis looks like for low-income families. Being in quarantine made me realize how much I have been robbed of my childhood and that I’ve been an “adult” for the majority of my life. My photo represents waking up daily with the stress of not knowing what life is going to throw at you, but going through the motions anyway. I took this photo one morning as my siblings were still sleeping four feet away from me. The light was coming through the window so beautifully, and it was one of the few moments of silence I had experienced since March.

BALTIMORE

Parrish André, 18

I drew this series in mid-April while sitting silently on many Zoom calls. In quarantine, my interactions with other people were all fit neatly into little rectangles on my screen.

Being young is about stretching and growing. We pull away from our parents, our homes, our schools, but as Covid-19 struck our communities we were reined in to all the situations that youth is about diverging from. For some, it was a time of reflection. For many, it was a dark period of isolation. For a generation, it was a defining collective experience.

FRISCO, TEXAS

Camila Salinas, 16

I wake up, go to school and sit at my desk. I do some work, the bell rings, I go to the next class. I do some work, the bell rings, I go to the next class. I get home, sit down, do my homework and catch up on a show. I go to sleep and I repeat.

Although my algebra class can range from having five to 30 students in a class, it feels as though there is only you. And for students learning from home, the situation is worse. They are literally by themselves.

SAN DIEGO

Paloma Ezzet, 16

For Paloma Ezzet in San Diego, “Common high school things, such as spending time with your friends and going to football games and dances, are near impossible to do.” Paloma Ezzet

Common high school things, such as spending time with your friends and going to football games and dances, are near impossible to do this year. Being in high school in 2020 is an experience like no other. It is gloomy, lonely and frustrating.

DALLAS

Ryan Daniel, 18

This piece, a picture I sketched of my little sister inside a box I created, depicts the entrapment and isolation felt by so many people during quarantine. This is the new normal for my generation. But we have grown together and are now capable of deeply connecting through shared experience.

MEMPHIS

Jayda Murray, 17

From a young age, I looked at the world from the lens of a dreamer. Flame-colored sunlight would dance through windows, and water would trickle below trees. I created scenes in my head until I found that a pen and paintbrush could do the same. I wanted to have those pictures and worlds to have substance in reality. That same inspiration drives my creative process as a teenager.

Before Covid-19 hit our American shores, I felt an increasing sense of dread. Two weeks later, my county issued a lockdown, and all my friends either found themselves at home or were recklessly disobeying the order. I had so many feelings. Fear, anxiety, sadness, loneliness. It was like they just took turns and looped from one to the next.

ELIZABETH, N.J.

Aishah Musa, 16

These are messages of a conversation I had with my sister on March 24, 2020. It was the first time I went with my parents to our grocery store, and I forgot to wear the mask before wearing the hijab, so I texted my sister to ask her how and she explained it. Remembering to wear the mask first is something that I still struggle with to this day.

BROOKLYN, N.Y.

Suhaylah Sirajul-Islam, 15

okay
What’s it like, being a teenager in quarantine?
it’s the same i guess.
except time passes more slowly.
and you’re not allowed to go outside.
it’s feeling exhausted from all the schoolwork.
and touch-starved because your friends aren’t there.
suddenly, the two-bedroom apartment you share with five family
members,
finally begins to feel cramped.
it’s feeling terrified, because you share a room
with your covid-positive aunt, who refuses to see a doctor.
and you can hear your dad, coughing through the walls.
and your mom at 2 a.m., reciting qur’an and
rushing to make tea for the both of them.
she gets sick too.
and suddenly you’re failing classes because you can’t keep up with
helping your siblings, and classwork, and housework, and the sick adults at home.
things start to look up though.
the weather gets warmer.
and your family gets better.
being a teenager in quarantine
is radical acceptance.
things happened and things are happening
you’ll be okay.

Note: This is an excerpt from a longer poem. Read the full one here.

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2. A Summer of Awakening

“The Black Lives Matter movement has encouraged me and an entire generation of young people to speak up.” — Christian Lee, 17

CHULA VISTA, CALIF.

Edelina Bagaporo, 17

This photo encompasses my own identity as an L.G.B.T.Q.+ Filipina-American woman. It highlights my role as an ally to the movements of social justice. No longer do I talk about boys or paint my nails, but start to recognize the part I can play in fighting for justice and how to tackle my implicit biases.
Although this was not the summer I was expecting, it truly has brought on tremendous personal growth, which I would not trade for anything.

LA HABRA, CALIF.

Christian Lee, 17

The Black Lives Matter movement has encouraged me and an entire generation of young people to speak up.

I photographed one of my best friends wearing the American flag because I thought it would be a simple but profound act of protest against racially motivated violence.

CARLSBAD, CALIF.

Madeline Mack, 16

When the news surfaced of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, I was distraught and in need of support. My moms are always here for me, but there is something special and necessary about connecting with your peers. I needed a way forward and assumed others felt similarly, so I decided to create Mad’s Book Club. The club has gone beyond what I imagined. When uncertainty strikes, we need connection and community more than ever. Being a teenager is about finding the connection that powers you onward.

TENAFLY, N.J.

Rebecca Wong, 17

2020 didn’t ignite the waves of Asian racism. It was already there.

I’ve seen the Asian community strive to be “more American.” I saw my family disassociate themselves from the community. I purposefully never learned Cantonese in hopes of making myself “more American.” I thought was in my best interest. I erased my own culture willingly in hopes of fitting in — it’s always purposeful whitewashing, the strive to Americanize in hopes to be accepted.

But you’ll still see the person I tried to erase. I cannot wash my culture away; it will always stay. The racism will always stay. At least paint is washable.

HERMOSA BEACH, CALIF.

Maddox Chen, 15

This photograph was taken on Sunday, Nov. 8, on my iPhone propped up on my cramped white desk against the wall of my room/sanctuary in my house. Using my preferred medium of Lego bricks, I created a physical mock-up of my typical spot for the past eight months: glued to a screen, whether that is my phone, laptop or the TV.

Politics has dominated everything this year, from racial, social and economic inequities to the simple act of wearing a mask. One cannot refer to this time without mentioning the diametrical struggle between Donald Trump and Joe Biden.

BROOKLYN, N.Y.

Joyce Weng, 14

Teenagers took this year to think about what’s happening in the world. We have to stand up for ourselves and make a change, and we all came together to create the Black Lives Matter movement.

Some teenagers who didn’t go out there and protest helped from home. We signed petitions, gave donations and educated ourselves on topics we should have known about a long time ago.

EUREKA, CALIF.

Matthew Coyle, 15

I took this picture with my phone in my home in Humboldt County while wildfires raged nearby early in September. The air was toxic so you had to wear a mask when you went outside.

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3. Creative Progress

“I was forced to be alone with myself, which led me to create art and poetry with deeper meaning than I had ever been able to create before.” — Hannah Blue, 17

SAN ANTONIO

Evelyn Cox, 17

I’ve welcomed the alone time.

The number of things that I have learned or relearned about myself has made this a time of discovery. A time where I get to put my needs first. Where I can feel comfortable in my own skin for the entirety of a day, every day, a week, for months on end.

The state of being home and surrounded by the people and things I love most hasn’t stopped the stress of school and college applications, or the feeling of helplessness when it comes to politics, or the full gravity of this deadly virus that flung us into this position. Being home has allowed me the time to recover and pick myself back up without the pressure of fitting in with my peers. It allowed me the space I need to grow.

WEST WINDSOR, N.J.

Marybel Elfar, 16

Who knows what my family dynamic will be in the next few years, but I know that I’ll miss what I have right now.

My sister is a senior, and I have no idea how I will survive when she goes to college next year. During quarantine, we would drive around our neighborhood blasting Kesha and screaming the lyrics horribly off key. My dad is taking a new position in his job, and my mom is returning to teaching. Neither of these things were able to happen before we were put on lockdown.

This picture was taken on a rainy day, when I felt inspired to take serious portraits of my family members, to match the mood outside and in the world. Despite my best efforts, nobody took me seriously, and I ended up with a series featuring my mom and dad goofing around and tickling each other.

FAIRFAX, VA.

Kenneth DeCrosta, 18

The Virginia High School League delayed all sports until they are safe. But in preparation for the start of a potential season, basketball players have been permitted to engage in physical training.

All workouts must take place outside. There is a strict set of guidelines that must be followed including online sign-ins, mandatory temperature checks, being masked at all times, sanitizing each player’s personal ball and maintaining at least six feet of distance.

Despite the restrictions, the majority of athletes from the Robinson Basketball team have participated. They have shown up faithfully for a season that may still be canceled.

JUNEAU, ALASKA

Thomas Kaufman, 17; Lance Algabre, 18; Andrew Garcia, 17

This song is inspired by the brutal couple of months that followed the first spike of Covid-19 in the United States. We felt ourselves become anxious, and depressed, and we wrote this song to try and spread some positivity to teenagers all over the world. We recorded different parts at our houses. We videoed some of the instruments live and some not. All of the videoed vocals are lip-synced in order to increase the workflow, creativity and fun. Aside from recording stuff, I created a fake Zoom, called Boom, to be the canvas, if you will, of the video.

LAYTON, UTAH

Haven Hutchison, 17

Teenagers wanted to have the best summer ever, and it was canceled in March.

A few days before this picture was taken, my friend texted me wanting to hang out but also be six feet apart.

My friends and I all decided on a day to drive to a parking lot. We just sat in a circle and talked for about four hours. It was one of the best nights of my quarantine.

All summer, my Instagram feed was filled with people throwing their own proms and finding fun ways to make this summer the best despite the pandemic. Finding a way to be happy in hard times is essential to making it through.

NEW YORK

Arianna Hellman, 16

How can anyone make a statement on beauty standards that has not been said a thousand times before? We all know that it should not matter what everyone else thinks. We all know that we should love ourselves. We also know that no matter how true these statements are, we don’t listen to them. This is especially true for teenagers who spend every night scrolling through our social media feeds until we fall asleep.

When New York gave the orders to stay at home, I was in the midst of multiple eating disorders that had started the previous year. The idea of quarantine terrified me. I would have to try even harder to hide my worsening health from my family. I didn’t want to get better.

As the days in quarantine blurred into weeks, all I was left with were my thoughts. I finally realized: “This is not what I want. I do not want this to become me.” I began to confront my feelings, put effort into counseling and find ways to express myself. The artwork that I created helped me to fully recover.

Each collage highlights a particular part of my body that made me feel insecure. I previously looked at myself as though in a clown mirror. My artwork transformed my self-doubt into beauty.

DALLAS

Hannah Blue, 17

I was angry at the world and I wanted to channel my feelings into something meaningful. I chose to design my own mini deck of tarot cards. The Hermit is the only one that is actually a real tarot card; I made the other three up. I am slightly grateful to the pandemic. I was forced to be alone with myself, with my thoughts and feelings, which led me to create art and poetry with deeper meaning than I had ever been able to create before.

REDMOND, WASH.

Chloe Kim, 14

When we first went into lockdown, it felt like an extension of spring break. We laughed about the toilet paper shortage of 2020. We believed Covid-19 would disappear soon.

I remember the first couple of weeks thinking this was my chance to become stronger during quarantine and get a glow-up. I did YouTube workouts and workouts our coaches posted; I did much self-care and focused on myself. But as time went on, online school started and the climbing season got canceled. I lost motivation and started falling into an unhealthy hole. My sleep schedule was nonexistent, and I rarely got off my bed, even for classes. I completely lost any desire to continue working out or do any self-care. I also stopped contacting my friends, which left me feeling so alone and weak. I felt like I was in this by myself, and no one could help me.

This signifies me finding my rhythm and becoming happier and finding a way to climb out of the hole and overcome my downward spiral.

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Opinion by Terence Moore CNN

Terence Moore is an Atlanta-based national sports columnist and commentator. He's a CNN sports contributor and a visiting professor of journalism at Miami University in Ohio. Follow him on his website at Tmooresports.com. The views expressed in this commentary are his own. Read more opinion on CNN.

(CNN)We almost lost Tiger Woods in a gruesome car accident Tuesday along a Southern California highway during these final days of the month when America celebrates Black history. With apologies to late poet T. S. Eliot, such a horror would have made February the cruelest month, instead of April. 

Just four weeks ago, Hank Aaron died at 86. Not only was he a baseball legend, but through his ability as an African American to survive death threats and hate mail while surpassing the immortal record of a White hero (Babe Ruth and his 714 career home runs), Aaron also became a civil rights icon.

Losing Aaron was sorrowful. The close call for Woods -- a living embodiment of recent Black history and excellence -- and the devastating knowledge that it could have been worse is hard to contemplate, especially just a month after we commemorated the death of NBA star Kobe Bryant in a helicopter crash in Los Angeles.

The 45-year-old Woods suffered massive leg injuriesthat required emergency surgery. He faces, at best, a long road to recovery. But he lives, and we rejoice, especially African Americans -- since many of them hug Eldrick Tont Woods tighter than anybody -- and always will.

By "everything," I mean Wood's childhood spent -- and adult tendency to remain -- in a mostly White world, and his refusal to move beyond a few centimeters in the direction of embracing the Black Lives Matter movement. Woods did release a statement last summer after George Floyd's death at the knee of a Minneapolis cop. Even so, the carefully crafted words (saying his heart went out to "all of us who are hurting right now") from the winner of a record-tying 82 PGA Tour victories came much later than those of other prominent athletes, which wasn't surprising to me.

In their differences, Tiger Woods and Alex Cora show America belongs to us

He's the anti-LeBron James regarding social issues. While James makes his excellence a platform for political reform, Woods doesn't.

Nevertheless, Tiger Woods is ours. For many African-Americans, he'll remain an icon forever, no matter his personal struggles or political choices.

Woods's eternal connection with the Black community began on what I'll call Emancipation Sunday for golf in April 1997. He likely didn't mean it this way, but it all started for me (and was likely not lost on many) when he wore his red Nike shirt -- as if to place racism in his sport on high alert.

Then, with Blacks, who listened on the radio to Jackie Robinson breaking Major League Baseball's color barrier on April 15, 1947, joining their descendants in front of TV sets everywhere, Woods swung his clubs to perfection. It was just two days shy of the 50th anniversary of Robinson's deed.

Woods pumped his fist in defiance.

Tiger Woods of the United States celebrates after sinking a 4 feet putt to win the 1997 US Masters Golf Tournament in Augusta, Georgia, United States.

He smoked his White competitors by 12 strokes to win the first of his five Masters tournaments at the same Augusta National Golf Club that didn't allow Blacks to join its ranks until barely seven years before that.

Several days later, Oprah Winfrey called me out of nowhere. She asked if I would appear on her show to discuss all things Woods and to explain the sports column I wrote for the Atlanta-Journal Constitution that day. In the piece, I argued that multiple races, religions and creeds wished to claim this younger version of golf's all-time greatest star as their own. I declared: "Tiger, you're Black, period."

I had been inspired to write those words after watching Oprah's show the previous day featuring Woods and his father, the late Earl Woods, who was his son's best friend and lifelong golf coach.

Earl Woods also was his son's image maker. Beyond golf, he envisioned Tiger as a transcendent figure for the planet, which is perhaps one reason why Earl smiled and nodded when his superstar son told Oprah it bothered him when folks called him "African American" since he had a Black father, an Asian mother named Kultida and a touch of Indian ancestry.

Woods told Oprah he invented the word "Cablinasian" (Caucasian, Black, American Indian and Asian) to describe himself when he was asked as a youth about his race.

But Woods is Black, and I said so on Oprah's show, because of what he has meant to the Black community and how his career has affected the struggle against racism in America. This identity goes beyond the "one-drop rule" principle that dominated the racial dynamics in many states in the early 20th century. That norm said any person with a drop of Black blood was considered Black.

All I know is, a slew of African Americans grabbed golf clubs since they saw somebody who looked like them prospering at chipping, driving and putting.

No doubt, Woods triggered a golf explosion. "The US saw a jump in rounds played of 63 million in 1997 over 1996," said a story on USA today last December, citing information from Golf Datatech.

It was the "Tiger Effect," and in my personal and professional experience, it was most pronounced among Black Americans.

During the 1950s, my dad was among the first Black golfers in Indiana, where I was born and raised in South Bend. So, the sport was already in our blood. Still, once Tiger Woods came on the scene, any family phone conversation for me (and for almost anybody else in Black America) ended with a shout from Mom or Dad of "Tiger's playing!" followed by an abrupt click.

Now Tiger Woods is hurting. He's lying in a bed at Harbor-UCLA Medical Center after being pried out of his vehicle through the driver's side window by paramedics. And the bigger news is that he survived.

With Woods' five earlier back surgeries and these new injuries that won't vanish soon, he might never bring his major tournament victories (he has 15 already) closer to surpassing Jack Nicklaus' record 18.

He might never play competitive golf again.

But he's still ours.