# The Unforeseen Challenges of My Freelance Henna Business
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Chapter 1: The Start of My Henna Journey
As a college student, I found myself in a common predicament—financial strain. Seeking ways to earn some extra cash, I decided to leverage my talent for henna, a skill I had picked up for cultural and religious celebrations. I took the plunge and labeled myself a 'Henna Artist' by creating an online freelancing profile. Soon enough, I had a consistent flow of clients. While I wasn't making a fortune, the income certainly alleviated some of my financial burdens.
Initially, I relished the art of applying henna. Learning new designs and connecting with my community through this ancient practice brought me joy. It felt right to immerse myself in creativity and bring happiness to others without engaging in idle gossip or adhering to patriarchal norms.
Section 1.1: The Shift to Business
However, turning my passion into a business introduced complexities that diminished my sense of fulfillment. I noticed a troubling trend: many Americans, particularly those from White backgrounds, viewed henna merely as a party favor. I found myself doing henna for children's birthday parties, which felt profoundly disrespectful.
Although I don't strictly adhere to religious traditions, I felt it was inappropriate to trivialize a centuries-old art form for entertainment purposes, particularly when many of these clients didn’t appreciate its historical significance. It struck me as odd that henna—an essential element of women's gatherings in South Asia, the Middle East, and North Africa—was reduced to a novelty for children whose parents could afford to hire a henna artist.
Section 1.2: Uncomfortable Experiences
I also accepted gigs at venues like yoga studios. One particular event stands out; I was hired for the grand opening of a yoga studio, where I realized my role was to contribute to an 'exotic' atmosphere. Surrounded by predominantly White attendees, I felt like I was merely a prop in a staged setting, serving to fulfill a stereotype that didn't represent my true self.
This feeling of being an 'exotic trope' weighed heavily on me. I encountered private clients who often expected a lot for little in return, and I struggled to advocate for my worth. Over time, I was referred to as 'my henna girl,' a label that felt belittling. It was as if others were defining my identity and position in a culture that didn't recognize the depth of my heritage.
Chapter 2: Reclaiming My Art
Eventually, I lost interest in continuing the business altogether. I stopped accepting clients and returned to simply practicing henna for myself whenever the urge struck. With my financial needs met, I felt a wave of relief in avoiding the negative experiences that had come to define my freelance journey.
Reflecting on this phase of my life has been challenging. While I appreciate the natural curiosity that leads people to explore other cultures, I realize that such engagement must be approached mindfully. Without awareness, it can perpetuate micro-aggressions and reinforce existing power dynamics.
Despite my negative feelings about my time as a henna artist, I recognize the importance of defining my boundaries regarding what I choose to monetize and the clients I accept. If I ever decide to work with clients again, I will establish clear terms of engagement. My goal isn't to become a gatekeeper; rather, I want to ensure that I don't compromise my comfort to provide a superficial experience for others.
My final henna session was a meaningful conclusion to this chapter of my life. I had the privilege of applying henna for my close friend's wedding, covering her arms and hands in intricate designs. This beautiful experience is one that I will always cherish.
Additionally, my collection of poems, You Are Your Own, is available for purchase on Amazon and can be accessed for free through Kindle Select.