Growing up, I called Long Island, an outer suburb of New York City, home. However, I traveled into Manhattan as often as three times per week with my family at a very young age. My parents, both city kids, encouraged my older brother and I to expand our horizons beyond the slower-paced burbs and exposed us to the best (and worst) of what "the City" offered.
Because of that balance, I became a freethinker at quite a young age. I was quickly able to assess situations and determine whether I wanted to engage further or detach myself entirely. For the most part, this worked well for me. I was decisive in my choices and often regretted nothing. Although my parents supported me in every aspect of life, and continue to consult me on major decisions to this day, they never pressured me to do what they wanted me to do. I was empowered to make the right choice for me.
That may be why, despite having access to a swimming pool, which was actually right in my parents' backyard, they accepted my lack of interest in learning how to swim. They figured I'd pick up the skill when I wanted, and if that day never came, I'd at least be wise enough to avoid the deep end and save myself from drowning.
Or, despite my declining their offer to enroll me in swim lessons, they accepted my choice because they knew 70 percent of black children also lacked the skill. So while not ideal, there were far worse and unflattering statistics for me to bear.
And I agreed, until about 10 years ago. You see, only being able to dip my toes in the water while traveling to the beautiful beaches of Rio de Janeiro and to the coast of South Africa made me acutely aware of how I had limited myself. How, as an upwardly-mobile 20-something, I was perpetuating the societal stereotype that black people don't swim.
The origins and reasons behind many black people not being proficient swimmers is quite complex, tracing back to the reconstruction era. But for black women it's been most commonly deduced to a seemingly trivial and superficial reason -- our hair. There's a prevailing generalization that black women are less inclined to take a dip because of the time and effort required to tame our manes post-swim. Prior to the recent popularity of black women transitioning to chemical-free or natural hairstyles, European beauty standards of adopting long straight hair were projected upon us. Therefore, those who relied on chemical relaxers or heat-based tools to maintain their straight tresses were more susceptible to chlorine damage. Over time, women of color would suffer split ends, breakage and hair shedding.
I transitioned to natural hair about 10 years ago, freeing myself of this suppressive mindset, but it took me another 10 years to find true freedom in the water.
Ushered in with the natural hair movement has been a modern resurgence of self-love (which we originally saw in 1960s, and the popularization of the afro) and pride among women of the African diaspora -- something commonly referred to as Black Girl Magic. It's an ode to the beauty and talents of the black female. Before joining Essence Magazine as the digital fashion & beauty director, Julee Wilson was the Huffington Post's senior fashion editor. While there, Wilson described #BlackGirlMagic as "a term used to illustrate the universal awesomeness of black women. It's about celebrating anything we deem particularly dope, inspiring, or mind-blowing about ourselves."
Through this term, black women have boldly declared to love who they are -- utterly and completely.
This summer, #BlackGirlMagic was on full display at the Rio Olympics. From gymnast Simone Biles to the USA women's track and field team, women of color absolutely dominated the competition.
But it was the #BlackGirlMagic moment of swimmer Simone Manuel's historic gold-medal win in the 100-meter freestyle event that forever changed my life. In under 60 seconds, 52.70 to be exact, Manuel's Olympic record-setting finish single-handedly transformed the perception and futures of American black girls everywhere. Not only do black girls swim, but we are also the best in the world.
Immediately following Manuel's victory, the hashtag #BlackGirlsSwim spread like wildfire, trending on every major social media platform as proud black people honored Manuel's accomplishment. Then, Manuel's post-swim interview and her words, "This medal is not just for me, it's for a whole bunch of people who have [come] before me and who have been an inspiration for me ... And it's for all the people after me, who believe they can't do it ... And I just want to be an inspiration to others -- that you can do it," hit me like a ton of bricks.
Overcome with emotion, in that exact moment I decided enough was enough. It was no longer acceptable for me to contribute to the 70 percent and willfully perpetuate the harmful, disempowering misrepresentation of my people. I was going to join the myth-busting group of magical black women who validate #BlackGirlsSwim.
It took me some time to honor my commitment, but two months ago I marched into my local Harlem YMCA and signed up for classes. Four days later, I showed up to class, a bit nervous but also eager about what was to come. Imagining myself insouciantly jumping off of boats and into oceans was truly exciting. And I didn't let hair, social stigmas or anything else hold me back.
And six weeks later, mission accomplished. I jumped into the deep end of the pool, unassisted and uninhibited for the first time. The act of freely jumping into the water was rewarding because it marked the successful end to a long personal journey of self-actualization. But more than that, it symbolized the relinquishment of the burdensome past of my ancestors, and our resilience to rewrite history.
Honestly, if Manuel hadn't won gold or competed in the Olympics, I can't confidently say that I would have committed to learning how to swim. But because of her, I did.
My final swim lesson was Wednesday. And after seven weeks I can proudly proclaim myself a black girl who swims.
Shana Renee is the founder and editor-in-chief of All Sports Everything and a passionate New York Jets, Knicks and Yankees fan. Follow her sports talk on Twitter at @ItsShanaRenee.