Yesterday, I caught a very interesting interview on NPR with this bright teenage girl, living in Queens NY. I tried to find a transcript of it but I am only coming up with bits and pieces. It is based on Radio Rookies, WNYCs award-winning youth journalism program that teaches young people to tell true stories about themselves, their families, their communities, and the world Sorry for the long river nile post, but I wanted to to share.

In perhaps the spunkiest essay, 16-year-old Shakima Ebony Swain looks at how its harder to wear the name-brand clothes she loves now that her family has less money. From the moment she begins, listeners cant miss her irreverence:

When I used to live on 91st in Brooklyn with my mothers boyfriend Steve, I was the poster girl for Guess. Everything matched. One day Id be decked out in a Guess shirt, Guess jumper, and, yes, Guess sneakers. Another day, Id be Ms. Jordache. I remember this neighbor thinking I was too dressed up to just to be sitting on the porch, but my mom wanted us to STAND OUT. She stood out all the time too.

Shakima cuts to an interview with her mother, who says of herself, I had to be the bomb. I had to turn the niggas on (laughs), but I like to dress nice, I like to look like a princess, a Diana or a Grace Kelly. Replies Shakima, Our house wasnt exactly Buckingham Palace, but we did shop at Kings Plaza, a shopping mall in Brooklyn that a lot of black people go to.


I was in the sixth or seventh grade when I found myself in dire need of a green and white striped rugby shirt, pompously emblazoned across the chest with the letters b-e-n-e-t-t-o-n. I wore it so often, my dad often jabbed me by asking, "What is that your uniform or somethin'?"

Sure, Dad was only mocking my tendency to over-wear the welcome of especially beloved garments. But it turns out his snide remark was more poignant than I once thought. Although by the end, the shirt had become more like a pacifying blankie in its stained and rumpled familiarity, it began as an outward statement of cool and an effort to establish status, sorta like a native costume of brand obsessed teenagedom.

If brand obsession for the sake of brand obsession had a spokesperson, she'd be sixteen-year-old Shakima Ebony Swain. When she was younger, her neighbor wondered why she'd get so decked out just to sit on the stoop. Back then, Guess and Jordache were her passions. According to her 1/23 autobiographical radio piece featured in New York National Public Radio station, WNYC's Radio Rookies series, back in the day even her mom was concerned with "turning the niggas on" by donning designer duds. But that was when mom dated a man who brought home the benjamins they needed to feed their bling bling addiction.

Now, Shakima, her thirteen-year-old sister, Tamika, and their mom don't have the cash to support their habit. But that doesn't mean they've kicked it. During her honest yet somewhat unsettling audio chronicle, Shakima interviews her younger sibling:

Shakima: Do you wear name brands?

Tamika: No.

Shakima: Why not?

Tamika: 'Cause I can't afford it.

Shakima: How do you feel about that?

Tamika: I feel (long pause)embarrassed. (With conviction) I feel embarrassed.

Shakima: Why do you feel embarrassed?

Tamika: Because it's like, I'm comin' into school, right? People wear Baby Phat jackets, Baby Phat clothin' and Tommy Hilfigah, Fubu.They would wear Jordans and I would come into school wit' Pumas.

Shakima: (Laughs) Pumas? That's old fashioned.

Tamika: I feel, likeI feel poor.

Shakima goes on to second her sister's emotion, stating, "So do I. I feel like we're at the bottom now. Rock bottom."


As Shakima nears the end of her piece Fashion Obsession, she interviews peers who rattle off designers names as if they were the alphabet. Then she comes to Steve. White folk aint putting their kids in Givenchy or Jean-Paul Gaultier, they put their money in their bank accounts, he exclaims. [Meanwhile] we got no college, no IRAs, we got nothing set up for us.

I see where hes coming from, but to be quite honest with you, I wear name brands to not look poor, Shakima counters. If I didnt wear them, my status would slowly SHUT DOWN. And after awhile, I would look as broke as I really am.... Right now, clothing is what makes me smile. Shakima signs off with the refrain, So forget all yall.


Her wrap-up interview is here:Now I have an internship [at WNYC] and I am more mature. Before I wasnt committed to anything. I went from one program to another. Finishing this project and actually listening to it on the air, I felt like I accomplished a major thing.