Exclusive: Why 16-Year-Old Yara Shahidi Is Choosing To Be Woke In Hollywood
Today's teens refuse to be silenced.
They're not settling for sounding off on social media, nor are they accepting the labels that society has assigned to them. They're defining themselves for themselves, and refining their voices so that the world actually stops and pays attention to what they have to say.
At least that's the case for the 2,500 teens that packed into the Omni Dallas hotel last March for the National Keystone Conference. No, it wasn't a cult gathering, though adolescents on a mission to master their voices and bring about change may seem a little unorthodox in today's world of seemingly narcissistic selfie-takers. It was, however, an assembly of those who will one day become world leaders, game changers, and industry disrupters. But no need for them to save the planet just yet, today the discussion centered around building confidence and taking ownership of their paths. It's a topic that actress and humanitarian Yara Shahidi is unashamedly passionate about.
“It just affirmed many of my beliefs, just seeing teens so active in their community," she says, reflecting on her own empowering speech, which she compares to a Ted Talk event. “It proves that we're more than just an anomaly—teens that can be heard and teens that have an opinion. We're not the anomaly, but we are turning into the norm."
If you thought teens were just social media masters fishing for the latest celebrity gossip, guess again. They're actually culture consumers who are as well versed on racial discourse as they are radio rhymes. In other words, they're woke. And like Yara, many just want their voices to not be counted out of progressive discussions. According to the youth leader, the platforms are present; it's just a matter of changing people's perspective. “I think often times even when it comes to media, it's hard for adults to even relate to teens because we're going through that phase where we want to be independent, so what they may only see is us on our phones when we're [really] talking about different things that matter to us," she says.
Talking to Yara, it's almost easy to forget that the child star is only 16 years old. She speaks with an air of confidence normally reserved for those ten or twenty years her senior. Yet there still exists a youthful enthusiasm that insinuates that she hasn't quite experienced enough to balance that vigor with a dose of reality. Her conversations are laced with hope and possibility, which is certainly needed in a world where activists and change agents grow weary in their fights for social and societal freedom. In actuality, Yara is right where she needs to be—culturally aware but not culturally confined, and willing to voice her frustrations without fear of being silenced.
"I feel more comfortable sharing and I feel like I want to be heard."
“I've always had strong opinions and my opinions have changed over time, but I think I feel more comfortable sharing and I feel like I want to be heard,“ says Yara. “I think it really started with [the show] Black-ish, and getting the opportunity and platform to speak about things that matter to me, because when you talk about Black-Ish, you're talking more than just any TV show; you're talking about subject matters that we touch."
On the hit television show Yara plays the sassy and seemingly self-absorbed oldest daughter, Zoey. Though they are similar in age, she says that the fictional character is no way a reflection of her, but that she does take advantage of the opportunity to bring depth and pieces of herself to the character. “I want her to be more than just the seemingly shallow girl that is on her phone all the time. It's okay for her to have that bravado and confidence, that I definitely do not want to take away from her, but just adding in the facets of confidence and translate it in all areas of her life. It's okay to grow with the character. It's okay to not know exactly our end goal, let's just continually have her evolve. Let's make sure that she doesn't stay stagnant, and definitely [writers] listened. Even though Zoey is not me and I'm in no way Zoey—they paid attention to who we are alike and see how we can take the different facets of Yara and translate them and put them into Zoey's language."
While Zoey grows in character, Yara is also constantly evolving herself as she expands her intellectual palate. On set she's being educated on everything from racial injustice to black family traditions that are often frowned upon (e.g. spanking). But off set she's taking in more worldly ideals centered around humanism. Traveling around the world since the age of seven has given the history buff a new perspective of what life means beyond the confinements of her African-American and Iranian heritage—and it turns out, it doesn't involve race at all.
“I ended up doing this program at Oxford, and there were people from Singapore, China, Latvia—all over the world. And what was interesting was that there were some unique cultural differences or our social norms were different for each of us based on where we grew up, but to bring teens into one place for a month, we all ended up clicking. And it wasn't that we clicked based on where everyone was from, but more so the commonalities that run throughout us all. I feel like travel supports and reaffirms the idea that we are all people. I shouldn't speak for everybody, but I feel like sometimes what causes problems and separation amongst different communities is this idea of not humanizing them."
"What causes problems and separation amongst different communities is this idea of not humanizing them."
She ties it back to why she loves acting and having the ability to understand what makes us who we are as people and not just as separate entities—the universal desires that make us more related than we are separated. “[In auditions], they give you a character breakdown. And when you get the character breakdown it's always at least a paragraph. And seeing how ethnicity is two sentences or two words in the paragraph, it's a part of who we are and a part we should always respect and cherish, but it's not what makes or breaks us. And I feel like understanding and connecting because we are a community of humans is really inspiring for everything that I do."
“Even being a part of Keystone, people travel from around the nation to get here, and it's because it's a bigger picture," she goes on to say. “It's not, 'well I'm this race or that race so I guess we shouldn't support each other,' but we're teens going through the same share of experiences so given this experience, how can we empower one another?"
As one of the next generation's budding humanitarians, Yara has one thing correct—we're stronger together than we are divided. While it may seem that the actress is far more advanced than the average teen, there are moments throughout our conversation where she divulges her innocence while simultaneously reminding me of my own age.
“I think I'm secretly a 90s kid," she says coyly. “Deep down inside, if there was a way for me to coexist in both generations, I will do it. This morning I was listening to my early 2000s playlist. I have a complete retro file."
Who would've thought that music from nearly two decades ago is now considered retro? It's a subtle hint that soon we'll be stepping aside to usher in the next generation of leaders. But in the meantime, we'll continue to watch as teens like Yara balance being influential—speaking around the country at leadership conferences and panel discussions—with posting light-hearted dance videos to Rihanna records.
Yes, she's undoubtedly growing, but she's not grown just yet.
Watch Yara's powerful speech at the Points of Light conference below:
The Mecca Of Fashion: The Top Street Style Moments At Howard Homecoming
Outfits were planned, bags were packed, and cameras were ready to capture Howard University's collegiate spirit during its centennial Homecoming celebration. Not only does it hold the number one ranking as the most elite Historically Black College and University or its top performing academics, diversity of students and alumni, but the HBCU also leaves a legacy of style and grace.
The essence of effortless poise and refinement shines bright through the iconic university colors of indigo blue, red, and white. Every October, Howard University students, alumni, staff, and friends gather on the prestigious campus in Washington, D.C. to take part in time-honored traditions and events, which is Homecoming. This year's theme, “The Meccaverse,” was a week-long celebration of Howard University’s heritage, including the Homecoming football game and Bison Pep Rally, the Fashion Show, Greek Life Step Show, Homecoming Day of Service, Lavender Reception, and the iconic Yard Fest Concert.
As 2024 marked the 100th anniversary of the Howard Bison trek back to The Mecca and after two years of virtual events due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this was to be a celebration of a lifetime. We enlisted HU alumnus Sharmaine Harris, a luxury retail buyer, as she revisited her alma mater as eyes on the yard for fashion-forward outfits mixed with personal style and campus pride for the weeklong celebration.
Before we get to the looks, discover how attending Howard University impacted her career in fashion and her day-to-day style:
Credit: Sharmaine and Friends
xoNecole: Describe your personal style. Did attending Howard have any impact on developing it?
Sharmaine: Howard taught me that there’s no such thing as being TOO dressed. There’s always a reason to “put it on” and look presentable, even if it’s just for a day of classes. Standing out was celebrated and encouraged with my peers embracing the opportunity, giving me the confidence to try new styles and trends.
xoNecole: How did Howard shape your career as a luxury buyer?
Sharmaine: I studied Fashion Merchandising, through which I was fortunate to have professors who were very connected to the industry and able to give first-hand accounts of opportunities and what to expect post-college. I was also able to build a network through my peers and other Howard Alum, which has opened doors to endless possibilities both within fashion as well as daily life.
The same confidence instilled in me through my style has also been rooted deeply within me as I step into any role or project I’m faced with throughout my career.
xoNecole: This year marked Howard’s 100th-anniversary Homecoming celebration. Can you describe what the weekend looked and felt like?
Sharmaine: I’ve gone to many Howard Homecomings since graduating, but this year’s 100th anniversary felt like a huge family reunion filled with nothing but love. It was beautiful to see so many Bison return home looking great and radiating joy. It was beautiful!
xoNecole: What makes Howard fashion different from other HBCUs?
Sharmaine: Being that Howard is The Mecca, we have such a diverse population with each individual having their own spin on fashion. Getting dressed is second nature for us, but the layered confidence is our secret ingredient to make any look come together. Through that comfortability to push barriers, we have a legacy of setting trends, as indicated by the many alumni we have in the fashion and entertainment industry.
Keep scrolling for the top street style moments from The Mecca's Homecoming weekend:
Credit: Lacey Gallagher
Credit: Alan Henderson
Credit: JaLynn Davis
Credit: Dylan Davis
Credit: Caleb Smith
Credit: Kendall W.
Credit: Jordyn Finney
Credit: Vanessa Nneoma
Credit: Dr. Mariah Sankey-Thomas
Credit: Caleb MacBruce
Credit: Tiffany Battle
Credit: Teniola
Credit: Ilahi Creary
Credit: Nicolas Ryan Grant
Credit: Dylan Davis
Join us in celebrating HBCU excellence! Check out our Best In Class hub for inspiring stories, empowering resources, and everything you need to embrace the HBCU experience.
Featured image courtesy of Sharmaine Harris
Message From A Mad Black Woman: Y’all Keep The Blue Bracelets, We’ll Take Our Rest.
Mere hours after the 2024 presidential election results made it clear that the United States would need to gird its loins for a second Trump presidency, a gaggle of women ran over to social media to announce that blue bracelets would serve as a new sign of solidarity. A safe space, if you will.
This declaration came about in response to Black women openly voicing their disappointment in both the election results and exit poll data that showed that not just white people, but Latinos and women of “all other races” had played a surprising role in the now President-Elect, Donald Trump’s reelection.
These exit polls quickly became the object of Black women’s attention and ultimate disappointment. Because while Black women went out and reliably voted for Vice President Kamala Harris to the tune of 91%, white women handed Trump 53% of their collective vote, Latino women 36%, and women of “other races” 46%.
On the night of November 5, 2024, Black women were left in shock. This shock would morph into disappointment, and the disappointment was a consequence of what, some would begin to argue, felt like, well, betrayal.
Like Rome, though, this heart-wrenching disappointment wasn’t built in a day.
Screenshot from "2024 Exit Polls," NBC News, accessed Nov. 12, 2024.
The Set-Up
On Sunday, July 21, President Joe Biden announced that he would not be seeking reelection - a decision that followed the disastrous one-and-done debate against former president Donald Trump, the subsequent wavering of major donors, and growing calls for a new candidate to run on the Democrat’s ticket. Hours after Biden’s announcement, Vice President Kamala Harris would send Beyoncé's internet into a frenzy by announcing that she would seek the party’s nomination.
That July night, 44,000 Black women assembled via Zoom to stress test the limits of the meeting app, break historical fundraising records, and strategize - subsequently setting into motion a series of virtual meet-ups. As a result, more Zoom meetings cropped up, bringing together attendees connected through countless combinations of backgrounds, orientations, and genders.
One said meeting was held by and for 164,000 “White Women for Kamala” who’d come together to publicly declare that they’d regretted not doing more in 2016 and were ready to use their privilege for the sake of advocacy and allyship.
A woman wearing an anti-Trump button as she listens to Democratic presidential nominee VP Kamala Harris speak at a campaign event on Oct. 18, 2024.
Bill Pugliano/Getty Images
For months, white women made it a point to convince Black women that they were on board - ensuring us that they were ready to seize their second chance at pushing back on the pillars of the patriarchy. The same group who’d failed to answer the call of rejecting Trump’s racist, sexist, and xenophobic antics before swore, for months, that they’d seen the error of their ways and were looking for redemption. The alleged fix? Betting better. Doing more. Voting differently.
While there was an understanding undertone of apprehension from Black women, the rhetoric began to lend itself to hope — with some going so far as to lift the moratorium on cookout invites. There seemed to be a collective sigh. A brief moment of unity.
The Let-Down
Little did Black women know, they were about to be played like a fiddle by the same group who, like in 2016 and 2020, were more interested in their own self-preservation than in actual change. This short-lived hope was dashed on Nov. 5 as the true nature of performative allyship became evident.
Turns out, the Black women who’d served at the helm of the movement, bless their hearts, had been bamboozled. Hoodwinked. Swindled. Like a modern-day Boo Boo the Fool. Believing the hook, line, and sinker, it was almost cute, in a tragic sort of way. They saw the potential, the hope, and the promise, drinking the red Kool-Aid, so to speak, eagerly awaiting the revolution.
The excessive blue hearts and social media commentary pledging solidarity had turned out to be performative or had over-indexed the voices of the 44% who were actually in solidarity. Either way, the seemingly overwhelming allyship wasn’t there, reminding Black women that while they are constantly expected to stand on the front lines for so many, rarely is there any ally who will actually show up for them.
A History of Short-Lived, Self-Serving Allyship
The 2024 election wasn’t the first time we’d seen this type of performative allyship, though. While a noble concept in theory, the kinds of allyship that have been displayed in many movements across The States have far too often missed the actual point. In fact, throughout U.S. history, allyship has actually been used more as a tool to bolster a single group’s positioning in the social hierarchy rather than genuinely advocating for the progression of marginalized groups.
Think back to 2020. Just months after the COVID-19 pandemic forced much of the country into isolation, remote work, the acknowledgment of essential workers as, well, essential, and, for some reason, bread-making. For 9 minutes and 29 seconds, the world watched, helplessly, as a powerless George Floyd was slowly pulled away from the world, drained by Officer Derek Chauvin's knee to his nape. In a traumatic 8 minutes and 46 seconds, the world seemingly changed.
Ira L. Black/Corbis via Getty Images
Protests quickly spread across the globe, and along with it, a wave of “allyship” swept across America. Large corporations, scrambling to answer the calls of Black employees, consumers, and investors demanding that they use their financial prowess to do more to prevent the next Floyd, almost instantly began releasing statements of solidarity, pledging donations to “racial justice” causes, and promising to promote more Black employees.
However, as quickly as these gestures showed up, most were forgotten, with almost all proving to have provided minimal impact on the groups they’d pledged to help. While some companies, like Target, increased their spending on Black-owned businesses, others faced scrutiny for their lack of substantive change.
A study by Color Of Change found that only 17% of companies that pledged donations after Floyd's death had fulfilled their commitments. Data compiled by theWashington Post found that two years after America’s 50 largest publicly traded companies pledged a collective $50 billion to racial justice causes, just 37 had disbursed a collective $1.7 billion. What’s worse?
Ninety percent of the pledged amount - or $45.2 billion - had been allocated in the form of mortgages, loans, and investments that the companies themselves would more than likely benefit from. These companies said one thing and did another and still found a way to benefit from the delta.
Performative Allyship: Civil Rights & Women’s Liberation Movements
This type of allyship is new, though. It didn’t take long for powerful groups to figure out that the simple appearance of allyship was, for the most part, good for business and the bottom line. For decades, powerful entities have publicly supported movements only to be later found to have engaged in discriminatory practices, highlighting the consistent disconnect.
During the Civil Rights Movement, companies issued statements of solidarity and even donated to civil rights organizations, but behind the scenes, they continued to segregate their workforces and refuse to hire Black employees for higher-level positions. During the Women's Liberation Movement, advertisers capitalized on the feminist moment by incorporating imagery and slogans associated with women's empowerment into their campaigns, while the underlying message of many advertisements reinforced traditional gender roles and stereotypes.
The difference between what is said and what is done has time after time exposed the shallowness of allyship, highlighting how it has mostly served as a tool for public relations rather than a genuine commitment to social justice and to the marginalized groups who are most at risk by the upholding of the status quo.
For two election cycles straight, white women posed as allies and still voted in a way that upheld the power structure that they benefit from - with many understanding that the survival of white supremacy is of more value to them than sexism and misogyny is a threat. In 2016 and 2020, 52% and 55% of white women, respectively, decided that they’d rather keep their position of second place in the social hierarchy than risk dismantling it and being forced to find a new place in society.
Latino women and women of “all of the races” followed the trend - blatantly ignoring the warnings of the same Black women who have not only been on the front lines of social justice but who are often called into the lead movements in communities that are not there own - increasing their support for Trump between 2016 and 2025 by 13% and 15% respectively.
Screenshot from "2020 Exit Polls," NBC News, accessed Nov. 12, 2024.
The Blue Bracelets are Going to Be A “No”
On the night of Nov. 5, 2024, Black women watched their country look at a qualified, experienced, capable, and willing Black woman and say, “Nah, we good.” It was on this night that a group that had been denied democratic rights for centuries, but had still attempted to rescue American democracy far too many times, only to be let down, put away the warnings, and began issuing a new declaration - they were opting out.
Black women have decided to lean into rest and recuperation - uninterested in any additional work that will, more than likely, end in disappointment and betrayal. For many Black women, the suggestion to wear blue bracelets as a symbol of solidarity is patronizing and dismissive of a greater and more complex issue. It’s a way to absolve the women who let Black women down for failing to keep promises made while simultaneously positioning the wearer as morally superior.
It fails to address the historically deep betrayal that Black women have experienced at the hands of their country and, more specifically, their own countrywomen. The request reduces the fight for equality to a simple, superficial gesture when allyship isn’t aesthetic and Black women deserve more than a symbol.
While the blue bracelets may be the new fashion choice for white women attempting to set themselves apart, to symbolize that they were on the right side of history, for many Black women, it’ll always be difficult to trust. In fact, it may serve as a symbol of a hollow and fleeting promise for the Black women who have done the tireless and thankless work for justice and equality.
For now, Black women are choosing themselves. Anywhere between a few days and the next four years should be enough time to reset and recoup. And who knows, they may even find the excess capacity means energy to train as pilots, restart forgotten yoga practices, expand the business, or earn that second Ph.D.
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Featured illustration by nadia_bormotova/Getty Images