How An Interplay Session Pushed Me To Trust Myself Again
I wholeheartedly believe in the "move in silence" philosophy. I'm stealth like a jaguar, silently entering and exiting rooms without being seen or heard unless someone turns around and catches me in the act. It's mainly because I don't want the scrutiny, inquiry, and critique. This also means that I won't generally do anything that would cause anyone to direct their attention to me. So for the life of me I don't know what convinced me to participate in interplay last weekend.
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Now before you go pick up your phone and ask, "Siri, what is interplay", I'll tell you what it is not. It isn't a new-age take on foreplay. It's actually an introspective, therapeutic-type practice that incorporates moving, storytelling, and voice inflecting. It also has many health benefits including decreasing stress, lowering anxiety, building and improving relationships, and boosting self-awareness and confidence.
Ironically, I walked into the building with my cousin feeling hella stressed and anxious because I didn't quite know what to expect.
The best way I can describe an interplay workshop is that it's improv-ish.
When we entered the classroom, the eight punctual students were paired up in the midst of a "babbling" exercise in which they talked about absolutely everything and yet nothing at the same time. The object was for the person to freely express herself while the other person remained fully present and listened without making a single interruption. Then they switched roles.
The subsequent tasks, which seemed pretty simple, included activities like concocting a convincing story based on a made-up word and telling another story in a child-like voice. Every task lasted 30 seconds, but some felt much longer than others. My only concern at that point was my ability to fictionalize something so elaborate with such ease. I mean, was I an undercover liar? But before I could ponder a rational response to that question, I realized we were only in the warm-up phase and the interplay leader was truly about to test my comfort zone and stretch the limits of my vulnerability.
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She told us to think of something boring and then sing about it in an operatic voice. And if that wasn't horrifying enough, she divided us into two groups so that half of us could observe the other half!
Say what?
My group was given the word "light". Then, our interplay leader played music for us to dance to while we created a three-sentence story and delivered it to the other group.
Singing?
And dancing?
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I frantically looked at the clock. It was only 3:20 p.m. Only 20 measly minutes had gone by and class wasn't scheduled to end until 4.
I glanced at my cousin and gave her the it-is-time-to-go-NOW eye.
She grinned back at me.
The music began.
The five-year-old me would have thrown a tantrum and cried. I didn't sign up to feel humiliated and exposed. I didn't want to be a songstress, an actress, or a ballerina. I wanted to be an observer. A wallflower. The person who had to see what something was like first or how someone else did it before she decided that she wanted to join in, too.
The 45-year-old me wanted to flee.
I tried to come up with a step routine disguised as an escape plan, one where I'd actually glide across the room, down the hallway, and out the front door. Too bad I was a passenger and didn't drive there. So in that moment, I vowed I would never return. But I thought about that decision. I didn't want to be that student.
I didn't want to be the one who didn't apply herself.
I didn't want to be the person who ran away the instant a situation grew unfamiliar or uncomfortable because that doesn't work in either our personal or professional lives.
And I didn't want to be a quitter.
I made the choice to dig deep and I uncovered my soprano, baritone, and bass to describe the boring peach curtains with the autumn leaves that complemented the hideous peach walls. I two-stepped and swayed my way back to the time when I lived in a studio apartment in Boston and the only time it saw sunlight was for an hour shortly after sunrise. It always seemed extraordinarily bright.
"There's no such thing as too much or too little light," I began.
My "audience" was in awe at the impromptu stories I told throughout the activities, and something inside me clicked.
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GoodTherapy, an online mental health resource, defines interplay as "a practice based on the premise that play helps people unlock parts of themselves they have psychologically buried over time." For the last few years, I've been trying to live up to everyone else's standards and expectations of me. I've been playing it safe because I'm so afraid of further fucking my life up and disappointing all the Iyanlas who think they have all the solutions to fix my life.
I've also developed the tendency to overthink and create crises that aren't even there or conversations that may not even take place. But when I think about the choices I want to make because they feel right to me, I instinctively feel compelled to defend my choices like a dissertation because I already know they don't mesh with what everyone else thinks I should do.
I used to be a bit more spontaneous. I was a risk-taker, an independent, unconventional thinker, and a big dreamer. I moved differently. I do not flourish when I play it small. I grow stagnant, oftentimes feeling like I'm suffocating or regressing rather than progressing as I simply go through the daily motions.
Interplay forced me out of my head and discomfort zone. It empowered me and pushed me forward. It reminded me that my intuition is my God-given compass, not the guidance of someone who's traveling down a path I'm not even meant to go.
Interplay even reignited my creativity. Last week alone I've written seven articles in five days! On the surface that may sound insignificant, but I haven't even written seven pieces within a whole year in a very long time.
I refuse to keep suppressing who I am and dismissing what I really want to do. And I don't have to explain it or do it based on approval and consensus. I still won't be that person to announce her every move but if anyone catches me making these moves, I won't downplay them or shrink and hide. I'll just stand a little bit taller and let people witness this glow up.
xoNecole is always looking for new voices and empowering stories to add to our platform. If you have an interesting story or personal essay that you'd love to share, we'd love to hear from you. Contact us at submissions@xonecole.com.
Featured Image via Giphy
I write about lifestyle and women's health and wellness. When I'm not in front of a computer screen crafting stories, I'm in a kitchen crafting cocktails. Follow me on the 'gram @teronda.
ItGirl 100 Honors Black Women Who Create Culture & Put On For Their Cities
As they say, create the change you want to see in this world, besties. That’s why xoNecole linked up with Hyundai for the inaugural ItGirl 100 List, a celebration of 100 Genzennial women who aren’t afraid to pull up their own seats to the table. Across regions and industries, these women embody the essence of discovering self-value through purpose, honey! They're fierce, they’re ultra-creative, and we know they make their cities proud.
VIEW THE FULL ITGIRL 100 LIST HERE.
Don’t forget to also check out the ItGirl Directory, featuring 50 Black-woman-owned marketing and branding agencies, photographers and videographers, publicists, and more.
THE ITGIRL MEMO
I. An ItGirl puts on for her city and masters her self-worth through purpose.
II. An ItGirl celebrates all the things that make her unique.
III. An ItGirl empowers others to become the best versions of themselves.
IV. An ItGirl leads by example, inspiring others through her actions and integrity.
V. An ItGirl paves the way for authenticity and diversity in all aspects of life.
VI. An ItGirl uses the power of her voice to advocate for positive change in the world.
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How This Creative's Hair Journey Evolved Into A Journey Of Her Return To Self
When it comes to how she wears her natural hair, content creator Ragin "Ray" Al-Nahdy has always seen hairstyles as more than an accentuation of her crown. Ragin has been natural her whole life and has always seen her tresses, no matter their state, as a representation of where she is in her journey of self-discovery and self-exploration. Similar to her journey from childhood to adulthood, her hair would take the shape and form of styling choices that would, in turn, act as the quintessential extension of whatever season of her life she was in at that time, a snapshot, if you will.
"Wearing my natural hair in its many forms, whether that be loose natural or loc’d, has been a big thing for me when it comes to self-expression, self-exploration, and connecting with other people who share similar experiences," Ragin tells xoNecole. "Even in moments where we laugh and joke about the 'struggles' of maintaining natural hair comes with a sense of belonging that I am so proud to be able to relate to."
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Though Ragin has worn her hair in a plethora of ways and was known to switch it up a lot during her 28 years earth side, wearing her hair in locs would prove to be the longest and the most significant time in her journey of becoming. "I think it was necessary because I really needed to have something to help me make sense of what was going on inside of me and ground me in my new reality," she mentions of that time. Ragin was 24 when she started her loc journey, and unfortunately, early on in that journey, her mother passed away.
The way she wore her hair for that season of her life started as a grounding tool for her amid her grief but would eventually evolve into so much more. "I got so many things from the experience I had with grieving my mom, but one of the most special parting gifts that she gave me was a roadmap that helped me 'return to self,'" Ragin explains. "What initially started out as me grounding myself in the connection I started with my mom eventually ended up coming full circle and reminding me that none of the things I was looking for, whether it be the confidence I thought I lost, my connection with my mom or my strength that I felt desperate to hold on to, existed outside of me."
"The locs became a huge metaphor for my life, and through embracing the physical aspects of the journey and learning how to accept and love each phase without the suffering that comes from yearning for past versions of myself, I was able to accept all of the other stuff that was happening in my life that were outside of my control and choose to trust the process and love those things too," she adds.
The 28-year-old version of Ragin had come so far in her life from the time she loc'd her hair at 24. She was older, wiser, and more rooted in herself. Late last year, she gave herself permission to exhale, move beyond the season of her life she had been cocooning within, and embrace transformation. She no longer needed them. Being in her fourth year of grief and more firmly rooted in herself as a woman, Ragin knew it was time to release.
Armed with her metal rat tail comb, Ragin would gently and methodically comb out each of her 117 locs over a number of days. "The theme that whole year was very much about shedding my attachments to things I was feeling unnecessarily dependent on and old energy that didn't feel relevant to my current experience or the one I was trying to create," she says. "I felt a really strong desire to release and make room for my new experiences so that I can be fully present and have clarity."
From the coils and curls of her fro to the twists and turns of life, Ragin's hairstyles have all been outward explorations and expressions of her internal reality, with each style bookmarking a moment in her life journey through the years. As she prepares to enter the next chapter as a mother, Ragin takes us through the different seasons of her life and how the way she wore her hair defined where she was in her journey overall.
Childhood Years
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"When I was a little girl, my mom always loved to do cute styles in my older sister and my hair. She was always coming up with something different and accessorizing with fun barrettes that matched our outfits and sometimes even elaborate braid designs. Most of the time, we even had input on what styles we would get for the day or the week, and I recall those times, as early as three years old, as being some of my earliest memories of self-expression and choice when it comes to how I was perceived by the world. We would always get compliments on how nice we looked, which made me feel so beautiful."
My earliest memory associated with my hair is one of the hundreds of times I used to sit in between my mother’s legs and pick through our huge selection of colorful clips and barrettes as she brushed my hair with gel and conditioner that smelled like candy. The smell of that conditioner was so good I can literally smell it now as I’m talking about it. It has definitely become a core memory for me."
Young Adulthood Years
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"[This] picture was taken in 2015 when I was about 20 years old, right after I grew my hair back out from the experimental phase I went through as a teenager. During that phase, I was honestly just happy that my hair grew back after all of the back-to-back coloring and constant straightening I was doing.
"I don’t even have photos of some of the styles I had during that time because of how often I used to switch it up, but I had red, midnight blue, shades of blonde, and even an accidental green. It was a wild time, but I definitely used it to express myself creatively, which was a lot of fun."
Independence
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"The blonde hair has always been one of my favorite looks. There’s an actress named Reagan Preston Gomez that had brown skin and honey-blonde hair, and I vividly remember seeing her on TV and thinking she was one of the prettiest girls in the world, which was so cool to me because we also share a similar name. I always dreamed of pulling off that look and hoped that it would make me feel about myself the way I viewed her.
"The first time I tried the blonde, I was 18, but in this particular photo, I was 24, and in such a beautiful season of my life where I was out of college with my first big girl job finally feeling like an adult. If I had to name that season of life, I would call it my 'Independence Era.' I was literally living the life that I always imagined I would be living as an adult, even down to the way that I always envisioned myself looking, and it made me feel extremely confident."
Restructuring
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"During my early teenage years is when I really started leaning into my own Afrocentricity because of different books and media that my older brother was sharing with me. I also hold very tight to my Jamaican ancestry and identity which made me interested in embracing the style and journey. Despite being able to choose my own styles as a small child, my mom is actually the one who told me to hold off on getting locs because she felt like I would not stick with it because of how adventurous I was with my look and my hair.
"In retrospect, I honestly can’t say that she was wrong, given the fact that shortly after that, I did everything you could imagine to my hair. By 2019, my mom decided to go on a loc journey, so I decided to join her, and that is how I ended up with locs for over four years."
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"I was 24 when I started my locs, and at the time, I had no idea how much that season would change my life. I initially started my locs with my mom, but she passed away two months to the day after we decided to go on the journey together, which not only left me feeling heartbroken, but I also felt like I completely lost my entire sense of self. I would call that season 'the restructuring' because I literally felt like I had to become a whole new version of myself in order to survive what I was going through.
"I love that my mom always made me feel beautiful and confident in myself by connecting with me through my hair journey, but once she was gone physically, I really struggled to feel confident without her being there to hold my hand and remind me of who I was."
"I love that my mom always made me feel beautiful and confident in myself by connecting with me through my hair journey, but once she was gone physically, I really struggled to feel confident without her being there to hold my hand and remind me of who I was. Since it was the last hair experience that we shared together, I grounded myself in my loc journey and used it to help me rebuild my confidence."
Remembering
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"[This] photo will always be very special to me because it represents my first attempt at doing a full cornrow and braid style on myself, which is something I was never able to do growing up despite my countless efforts. It’s like I had a mental block or something preventing me from actually picking it up. I honestly thought that after my loc journey, I would invite my social media community to join me on a 'learning to braid journey' but then I picked it up within five minutes and did this style on myself almost immediately after combing out my locs.
"It was really special to me because learning to braid so easily felt like another parting gift from my mom, and it also made me feel really close to the Ancestors. Now I’m just wondering what other gifts have been passed down to me that I am still unaware of. I can’t wait to discover them and pass them around to others in this season of life that feels like 'remembering.' It’s really reminding me that who I am is who I have always been and that all of my forms exist here and now without me even having to try to hold on to any particular aspects of myself."
Rebirth
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"Combing out my locs made me nervous at first because I was so comfortable with them, but once I realized what a long process it was going to be, I kinda switched into overdrive and just powered through it. It was a really beautiful process because my sister came from out of town to help me, and my husband helped me a lot, and those two were honestly the MVPs when it came to helping me survive my larger journey with grief, too. It all felt really full circle, and it felt really nice to be supported in that way.
"I got emotional throughout the process, but it wasn’t until I got down to the last few locs that everything really came flooding out. I could just feel a huge weight lifted off of me and things were happening around me that I have always viewed as signs of my mom’s presence. Now, as a 28-year-old woman who is in an entirely different phase of my life than I was when I started my loc journey, I feel strong and capable of everything that the future has to offer me. This season of my life would be called 'rebirth' and I am excited to have my antennas out in the world."
Freedom
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"This photo is actually one of my most recent ones taken after my first curly haircut. I was always the type to just trim off my ends as best as I could at home, but without the understanding of my hair density, texture, and how to shape my hair correctly, I pretty much always ended up with bad haircuts that didn’t compliment me well. Getting my hair professionally cut was a game changer because it allowed me to see the beauty that exists in wearing my natural hair out in a fro. It definitely boosted my confidence.
"This phase of life feels like 'freedom' which is so full circle because it carries a lot of the same feelings and emotions that I experienced as a little girl being able to pick what style and color barrettes I would have in my hair on any given day."
Motherhood
"I was actually pregnant when I combed my locs out but I didn’t tell anyone outside of my immediate family and close friends. I look at my loc journey as my interaction with motherhood from a child’s perspective, and this new journey as me experiencing motherhood from a mother’s perspective. I think that the physical change of identity is definitely helping me move into this next phase as the version of myself that feels empowered and confident rather than the version who was battling with grief and sometimes unsure about herself. While I make sure to hold space for and love on that old version of myself often, I no longer have the desire to relate to her so intimately."
"While I make sure to hold space for and love on that old version of myself often, I no longer have the desire to relate to her so intimately."
"The message I want to pass down to my children and really anyone who will listen is that life is full of tools and opportunities that can assist us in experiencing our lives with ease and joy. Hair and anything else, for that matter, can be used as a way to help us understand our experiences, transform how we view ourselves, and help us form meaningful connections with others that last a lifetime. I also want to teach them the importance of listening to their own guidance and to never forsake their authenticity for acceptance from others.
"I would always talk to my mom about using that sacred time of hairstyling to connect with my children just like she did with me and generations of people have done before us. I look forward to those times and I can’t wait to pass down the stories and lessons I learned while sitting in between my mother’s legs and picking out barrettes."
For more of Ray and her next chapter, keep up with her on Instagram @westindieray.
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