Cinnamon, Not Coriander
A Journey Back to Radiance
The Dream that Rocked My Confidence
Sleep isn’t just rest for me; it’s a portal, a mirror that holds up parts of myself I’ve been avoiding.
Some mornings, I wake up feeling like I’ve fought battles in my subconscious—battered, bewildered, sometimes bruised….and full of questions (I’m fighting demons in my sleep, apparently lol)
Today was one of those mornings. I woke up at 5AM, and it hit me like a freaking train thinking to myself “ayoooo what WAS that? “
Imagine that scene from Rick and Morty where they stumble back into their spaceship after battling monsters—disoriented, shaky, but screaming at each other.
Just me sitting on the edge of my bed…trying to make sense of the emotional chaos.
Like this ^
But, this morning, the message was loud and clear: it was time to confront my relationship with beauty, self-confidence, and rejection.
Heavy stuff to process before breakfast, but here we are.
*sigh*
A Picture That Stuck
There’s a photo of me from pre-K that my family treasures. Everyone—immediate and extended—has it framed, tucked into their wallets, or saved on their phones.
It’s a snapshot of innocence: me, bright-eyed, glowing, and completely unaware of the world’s expectations. But this picture has always felt bittersweet to me.
When I look at it, I think, This was the last time I was truly beautiful.
Back then, I hadn’t yet absorbed all the conditioning, doubts, and judgments that would come later. I was just me—radiant and enough.
But this year, as I celebrated my 30th birthday, something shifted.
My mom and I took a photo together, and for the first time in years, I saw that same radiance. Not just good lighting or a nice outfit—it was something deeper. Years of inner and outer work had come together.
I had finally let my inner light shine through.
For the first time, I felt like I had come back to her—the girl in the pre-K photo.
She’s still here. And now, she’s stepping fully into the world.
Brains vs. Beauty: A Narrative That Shaped Me
Growing up in a Somali community, my sister and I were often the center of attention. People would visit just to see us, commenting on our glow, our radiance, how adorable we were.
But somewhere along the way, a narrative emerged.
My sister became “the pretty one.” I became “the smart one,” “the one with a good personality” (which couldn’t be far from the truth smh)
But, at the time, I embraced it.
I leaned into my smarts, humor, and personality. But that narrative shaped me more than I realized. By defining myself through my internal traits, I made my appearance secondary, almost irrelevant.
I didn’t realize it then, but I had started to dim my own light, internal and external.
Dimming My Light to Fit In
As I grew older, I began to notice how different I looked compared to others around me. And living in a town with few East Africans, I was often asked, “What ARE you?”
People would point out my features—my skin tone, my hair, my nose—and those comments made me hyperaware of how much I stood out.
My response? I shrank. I dressed frumpy, avoided makeup, and stayed away from trends—not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself.
College and post-grad life brought new challenges. In predominantly white spaces, I shifted again, trying to fit into their standards of beauty. I spent countless dollars on clothes, skincare, and trends, but it never felt right. It wasn’t me.
The Chameleon Effect
My insecurities showed up loudest in dating.
Rejection terrified me—not because of what it said about them, but because of what it might confirm about me. If someone didn’t like my personality or smarts, I could fix that.
But if they didn’t like me—the essence of who I was—how could I recover? (would much rather swallow a denim jacket whole tbh..)
So, I played it safe.
I avoided taking risks, either by becoming "just a friend" or by molding myself into what I thought someone wanted.
But no matter how much I tried to protect myself, I was already rejecting the most vulnerable parts of me by hiding them away.
The “Coriander B****” Incident
Last year, I went out dancing and found myself deep in conversation with a guy about his mental health—an unexpected but meaningful topic for a dance floor chat. For the record, it was entirely innocent, and I wasn’t even remotely interested in the guy.
But then she entered the chat—his “girl.”
At first, she was polite, but her energy was unmistakably off.
Sensing her unease, I tried to diffuse the tension, making it clear I wasn’t a threat. Despite my efforts, as the night wore on, her skepticism only grew.
As I was leaving, she snapped: “How dare you leave me for this 21-year-old coriander b****!”
First of all, I was 29—so thank you, I guess?
And coriander? Really? (I’d even mentioned I was Somali, so the spice reference threw me, but hey, shoutout to her spice rack knowledge.)
It’s a story I can laugh about now, but at the time, it stung more than I expected. Moments like that reminded me why I spent so much of my life dimming my light.
Even when I wasn’t doing anything wrong, I felt like my presence was too much.
The Year of Inner and Outer Alignment
This past year of solitude gave me the space to let go of those old narratives. I returned to my natural hair, invested in my skin, and started dressing in ways that made me feel alive—not to fit in, but to honor myself.
Caring for my physical appearance isn’t about vanity or validation.
It’s about alignment—letting my inner light shine outward and creating harmony between who I am inside and how I present myself to the world.
Cinnamon, Not Coriander
That coriander comment will always make me laugh, but it’s also a reminder of how far I’ve come.
So let me set the record straight: I’m not coriander. I’m cinnamon—warm, sweet, and unmistakable.
I’m done shrinking to make others comfortable.
I’m done deflecting compliments.
I’m done hiding my radiance.
Coming Full Circle
That pre-K photo isn’t just a memory of who I used to be—it’s a reminder of who I’ve always been.
The girl in that picture didn’t need validation to shine. And now, neither do I.
My 30th birthday photo with my mom feels like a full-circle moment.
To see her radiance mirrored in mine—after years of inner and outer work—feels like a deep, long-awaited healing.
It’s a testament to growth, to reclaiming the light I thought I had to hide.
A reminder that I’m allowed to take up space, to shine unapologetically, and to embrace being bold and beautiful, inside and out.
So here’s to the girl in the pre-K photo and the woman I’m becoming.
Here’s to cinnamon, not coriander.
And here’s to letting our light shine—bravely, beautifully—no matter who’s watching.
‘til next time,
Manny with the Moves
Photos for Reference
Me from pre-k :)
Me and my beautiful momma :)