Represented

I clearly recall the moment I truly recognised myself in a fictional character. I was browsing Netflix while lounging on my couch when I saw The Get Down. I was drawn in by the show's lively energy, but Shaolin Fantastic, one of the main characters, truly captured my attention. Something about him struck a deep chord with me, whether it was his hustle, his confidence, or his love of music.

Beyond merely witnessing a Black man pursuing his aspirations, there was something deeply familiar about the way he moved, his flair, and the blend of creativity and street smarts. I had always been the child who would write lyrics in notebooks, perform spontaneously with pals on street corners, and dream of leaving my mark on the world of music. However, I never fully saw most mainstream characters displaying that same fire. They always seemed too perfect or to conform to a stereotype that I didn't think was accurate. Shaolin was not like the others.

He was genuine even though he lacked polish. I witnessed a character whose story reflected mine for the first time when he persistently battled for his voice and defied all odds to accomplish something important. The way he handled loyalty, the streets, and keeping faithful to his work spoke to me in ways that I could relate to. I realised that I had been that person when I saw Shaolin in a moment where he was standing on a rooftop, staring out over the city, engrossed in the music. With just the music and myself, I've been lost in my own world, dreaming of a better tomorrow.

More than just being a Black man portrayed was at stake. It was about being perceived as creative, as someone who expressed who they am and utilised art as a way to escape. It was good to watch him, validated. It was as if at last people understood the hardships endured by artists such as myself—the late nights, the sacrifices, the rejection, but also the optimism, the vision, and the will not to give up.

Something in me was ignited at that time. I felt more connected to Shaolin's journey and less like a lone artist attempting to carve out a space after reading about it. It gave me new hope that my dreams could come true. More than that, it made me feel like I belonged to a larger community of creatives that push boundaries regardless of where they are from, not only to the music industry.

I was inspired by that event to embrace my identity as a rapper, writer, and maker with more audacity. It helped me to accept the hustle even more—not as a way to get by, but as a component of who I am. Seeing someone who so closely resembled me on film taught me that our stories are valuable to share and that, by speaking my truth, I can empower others to experience a similar sense of belonging and representation.