“Nikki-Rosa”
Nikki Giovanni’s poem “Nikki-Rosa” argues that Black childhoods carry a kind of joy and wealth that outsiders rarely see. She challenges the way white people often describe Black life as defined only by struggle. She insists instead that love, community, and cultural pride create forms of happiness that do not depend on money. Giovanni wants readers to understand that the truth of a life cannot be told by someone who has never lived it. A childhood shaped by Black community is not automatically tragic, often it is beautiful.
While I agree with Giovanni’s main idea, I think she overlooks an important point. She suggests that outsiders will always misunderstand Black life, but my own experiences make me believe understanding is still possible. People who haven’t lived Black experiences may misinterpret them at first, but with guidance, openness, and genuine curiosity, learning can happen. When Giovanni writes that outsiders “never understand Black love is Black wealth,” she highlights how easily others miss the meaning behind Black experiences, but I read that line as a challenge, not a permanent barrier. To me, understanding can grow when people listen with care and learn from those who live the stories. That belief shapes how I think about culture, identity, and who gets to understand the black culture.
At the same time, my understanding of Black identity was shaped by something much more hopeful which was dance. I have seven biological brothers, but only one, my brother Holden, was adopted with me into a white household. Being the only Black girl in my family sometimes made it hard to understand where I fit culturally. That changed when at the age of five I joined my first dance studio, Charlotte Dance Collective. It is a predominantly Black environment filled with teachers and dancers who use movement to tell stories about our history, our struggles, and our pride.
As I got older, dance became more than an activity. It became a way of learning Black art as a form of identity. At my studio, each year we perform a culturally relevant piece. This year the piece we are performing is “Hanging Tree,” which traces Black people’s journey from historical violence to resilience and success. Dancing in an all Black studio gave me knowledge and confidence I might never have gained otherwise. It taught me that Black culture is not something I observe from the outside. It is something I participate in, something I shape, and something I carry forward. This is what Giovanni describes as “Black love being Black wealth,” and that part of her message resonates deeply with me.
My interest in Black Studies grows from the place where art, history, and identity meet. Dancing with an all Black studio has shown me that storytelling is one of the most powerful ways to understand a community and share that understanding with others. Through dance, I realized that identity is not a single story written by outsiders. It is built through community, togetherness, and the cultural traditions we choose to carry. I’ve learned a lot about Black culture, identity, and history, but I know there is still a deeper level to explore. I am especially curious about how Black communities preserve culture across generations and how those traditions remain meaningful over time. I want to attend this camp to continue my journey of connecting with my culture and to grow in the ways I understand and engage with it.
This connects back to my disagreement with Giovanni. While she believes outsiders will never truly understand Black experiences, my life has taught me that some people can learn if we let them in. My adoptive family has shown me love and support, and my school community has shown me the power of standing together across cultures. Understanding does not happen automatically, but it can happen through listening, through learning, and through the kind of storytelling Giovanni herself practices.
In the end, “Nikki-Rosa” helped me see that being misinterpreted does not make my identity weak or uncertain. It means I hold something real. Culture, love, and connection are things others may not fully see at first. But unlike Giovanni, I believe that some will see it if we invite them to listen. My joy does not come from outside approval, but from the community that shaped me, the art that speaks for me, and the voice I am learning to trust. Through dance, through storytelling, and through Black Studies, I am learning both to understand my own experiences and to share them in a way that others can understand too.