Let’s talk about something that’s been sitting heavy on my spirit:

Blackness is not a vibe. Not a filter. Not a trending sound. Not an aesthetic.
It’s a living, breathing culture. It’s ancestry. It’s soul. It’s struggle and celebration and rhythm and resistance. And yet in 2025, somehow being Black is still something people feel entitled to borrow, remix, and discard when it no longer suits the aesthetic of the month.

I don’t say this lightly, but I’m tired of seeing my culture our culture reduced to a Pinterest board. I’m tired of seeing the fullness of Black identity flattened into digestible pieces that look cool in a 15-second Reel but mean everything to us.

Because when you’ve had to fight for your culture, watching it get turned into a “vibe” feels like violence.

When Culture Becomes Costume

It’s everywhere. The way people now wear “Blackness” like a seasonal trend. The acrylics. The gold nameplate necklaces. The edge control. The slang. The music. The braids Lord, the braids. I’ve watched girls who once called cornrows “ghetto” now get them installed on holiday in Tulum and call them “boho-chic.” I’ve seen non-Black stylists build entire careers off the backs of techniques Black women were mocked or punished for using.

They want the look, but not the life.They want to sample the rhythm, but not live with the realities that come with it the police stares, the job interview micro-aggressions, the unspoken fear of being too loud, too bold, too Black in public spaces.And that’s the thing: Blackness isn’t optional. We don’t get to take it off when it gets uncomfortable.

The Algorithm Loves Us — But Doesn’t Credit Us

TikTok, Instagram, Pinterest, YouTube. Pick a platform the receipts are everywhere. Black creators invent trends. We bring the language. The humour. The editing styles. The fashion. And what happens next? A white creator picks it up, waters it down, slaps a soft aesthetic filter on it and gets ten times the reach. Ten times the brand deals. Ten times the credit.And before we know it, something we created from struggle or genius or cultural memory becomes “the hot new thing” without us.

This doesn’t just feel unfair. It feels dehumanising.Because when our culture is only celebrated when it’s no longer tied to our skin, our voices, our bodies  that’s not appreciation. That’s erasure.

What Happens When We Play Along?

Here’s where it gets even messier and I say this with love. Sometimes we feed the trend too. Sometimes we play into it because survival taught us to. We make our identities more digestible. We shrink parts of our Blackness to make it aesthetic, brandable, monetisable. Because the system told us we’d only get love if we give them just enough culture to be cool but never enough to be political. Or powerful.We know the game: Be Black, but not too Black. Be loud, but only when it’s entertaining. Be authentic, but stay marketable.

But what’s the cost?Because every time we dilute ourselves for the algorithm, we lose something. A little softness. A little history. A little truth. A little of us.

This Isn’t Just a Trend — It’s an Identity Crisis

I’m not writing this just to critique the outside world I’m writing it because I know what it feels like to be in this identity crisis. To grow up being told your skin, your hair, your name, your energy is “too much” only to watch the world suddenly find it fashionable once it’s rebranded through someone else’s lens.It’s disorienting. It messes with your self-image. It makes you question if your culture is only valuable when it’s profitable.

But our identity is more than a moment. More than a vibe.It’s memory. It’s migration. It’s music. It’s mourning. It’s resistance. It’s every look our aunties served in the 90s, every phrase your grandmother said in her mother tongue, every song that healed you before you knew what healing was.

So What Do We Do?

We remember.We reclaim.We refuse to be reduced.

We keep telling the truth about who we are and where we come from even when the timeline’s not listening. We support Black creators who tell the unfiltered story, not the trendy one. We call out erasure every time we see it  because silence only feeds it.

We wear our culture like the crown it is not because it’s cool, but because it’s ours.We make space for softness, for history, for nuance. Because Blackness is not monolithic. It’s not a uniform. It’s not a single soundbite. It’s vast. It’s tender. It’s contradictory. It’s human.And it’s not here to be curated for someone else’s feed.

Final Word

There’s a real difference between loving Black culture and living Black experience. One comes with risk. The other comes with choice.

So next time someone calls your Blackness a “vibe,” tell them:

This isn’t a vibe. It’s a legacy.This isn’t a trend. It’s a truth.
And it doesn’t need a filter because it’s always been golden.

see you next week guys!!

© 2025 Culture-Anthology. All Rights Reserved.