Although life began in San Luis Obispo, Aneka Brown has called Palm Springs home since she was 6 years old.
As a couple, Mom and Dad didn’t make it, and Mom remarried. I ask Brown who she takes after, Mom or Dad, and she says she got a good mix of qualities from all three. Nature and nurture at its finest.
Little girls dream of being ballerinas, and so it was with Brown. Sometimes, little-girl ballerina dreams fade with knowledge and time (yay STEM program), while other girls realize they don’t have the talent or drive. Brown’s experience was a one/two punch to the gut. Here’s No. 1: “I was told that I would never be able to even know that I was technically good. I just didn’t have the body type, because I was too muscular to be a ballerina.”
Here’s No. 2, a 2022 survey of ballet-company dancers by ethnicity:
- Hispanics 26%
- Asians 9.1%
- African Americans 3.8%
- Other/declined to say: 10.6%
- Caucasian: 50.5%
The disparity in the late 1980s was even greater than it is today, and the blatant racism was not lost on Brown. There were no well-known Black dancers “besides Katherine Dunham and Debbie Allen—and they were choreographers,” Brown said. “You did not see any African-American prima ballerinas. There was no Misty Copeland for me at the time.”
Palm Springs High School had an elite pep/cheer squad that did dance routines. Brown (whose maiden name is Knight) tried out for “song leader” with five other African-American girls—and none of them made the squad. Brown studied dance for 10 years, the final four with Alvin Ailey dancer Michael Green, and she played sports; lest you think she was not full of cheer, Brown is all cheer.
“Our parents … demanded to know how the scoring was done,” Brown said. “So they pulled our files, and (one of the scoring categories) was rhythm. We all received a one. On appearance … ‘the hair is unkempt; the hair’s untidy,’ so it was all this blatantly racist stuff that did not sit well with our parents. From there, they demanded to see the records (yearbooks) from Palm Springs High from the last 20 years. They checked the senior level for song and cheer, and figured out how many Black cheerleaders there were. There was only one.”
I asked what made that one Black girl special. “She was half white,” Brown said.
They hired a discrimination attorney. You may have heard of her—Gloria Allred. They didn’t want money; they wanted change in the form of equality.
Although the school board gave themselves an “all clear” on the investigation, within two years, Palm Springs High School’s cheer squads were much more diverse, and, Brown tells me, it became more about talent.
So, what do you follow that up with?
“I thought I was going to join the Peace Corps, because I wanted to go to Africa. That didn’t happen,” she said. “I ended up going to Fresno, (to be) around my dad’s family and get to know them more.”
Fresno had more people with faces like hers, so she settled in and went to college for a spell; she then moved back to Palm Springs and took a job as head cheerleader and choreographer for a local semi-pro sports team. She also taught dance at the Boys and Girls Club. Choreography skills took her to Los Angeles, where she had a variety of gigs in the music industry.
At 22, she met her husband; they got pregnant quickly, and Brown decided to go back to school for child development and education. Soon, another child was on the way, and they decided to move to Michigan to be closer to his family. No stranger to fashion, she opened her first clothing boutique. She’d been designing and making clothes for her dolls since she could think, using string and glue.
When she was 38, the lifelong nonsmoker received a diagnosis of adult onset asthma and environmental COPD, possibly as a result of the air from the Salton Sea.
“It could have been a turkey baster—anything I can just put the clothes on,” she said. “It was never about the doll; it was about the clothes.” When she learned to sew in home economics, she created her own outfits.
After five years in Michigan, the economy tanked. Brown closed her shop, and the family returned to Palm Springs.
When she was 38, the lifelong nonsmoker received a diagnosis of adult onset asthma and environmental COPD, possibly as a result of the air from the Salton Sea. They put her on steroids for the cough, and that jacked her weight up and down four sizes. Not only could her wardrobe not accommodate the fluctuation; the options were abominable for a stalwart fashionista.
Just like in high school, she began dressing herself in her own creations, including a wax fabric line she calls California Afro-chic. Soon she was making clothes for friends—and a successful online boutique was born.
Even while designing new collections, managing a thriving online business, and dealing with the limitations brought on by her condition over the past 12 years, Brown continues to raise the cultural and historical awareness of African Americans in our community with fun, educational events, like her recent Juneteenth celebration at the Palm Springs Cultural Center. Local artisans, top-notch entertainers, learning opportunities and some mighty good soul food were had.
(Although Juneteenth has been celebrated since 1866, I first heard about it was in 2017 on the sitcom Black-ish. The Tulsa Massacre, I learned about from Watchmen, which led to me read about Seneca Park and Lake Lanier. There are more.)
Some 33 years ago, five young Black girls got tired of hearing “no” because of the color of their skin, and they affected change. One of those girls sought to know more about her blackness, then came back to her hometown to continue what she started as a teenager. Although her condition constricts her airways, Brown continues to spread an inclusive message: We are better together.
That, and “live everyday of life like you’re on a runway,” because this fashionista is styling, whether she’s relaxing with family and friends, or out slaying dragons. And yes, she makes bags and jewelry to match. You know why. Begins with badass.
Learn more about Aneka Brown Designs at aneka-brown-designs.square.site.
Edited on July 15 to clarify a matter about the subject’s family.
