Fanta

"The thing that changed everything for me was henna."

By Students of NYC

January 15^th, 2026

"People usually tell me their first impression of me was that I looked mean. Or aggressive.
And I’m always shocked when they say that. Because I’m not that type of person at all.
When you actually get to know me, you see that I’m very kind. I’m very caring. I would describe myself as selfless. I grew up in the Bronx in an African Muslim household. My mom is from Guinea, a West African country. I was born here, but my culture has always been a big part of my life. I’m the youngest — two brothers, two sisters. Being the baby comes with perks, but it’s not easy. You get compared a lot. Sometimes they want you to be your older siblings. Sometimes they want you to be better.

Freshman year of high school, I was very to myself. I was just trying to figure everything out. But the thing that really changed everything for me was henna. Henna has always been part of my culture. Before Eid, my mom would take me to a henna artist — usually at someone’s house. It wasn’t a salon. You’d walk in and there would be families there, food cooking, people talking. You sit down, wait your turn, and the paste feels cold on your skin. It smells really good. You talk with the henna artist while she works. She tells you about her life, you tell her about yours. What are you wearing for Eid?
What colors? That’s a really big deal in my culture. Sometimes they freestyle the design, and it always comes out magnificent. I used to watch them and think, How can they create these crazy designs with nothing?

When I was 15, my sister randomly bought me a henna kit. It sat on my desk for a long time. I didn’t touch it. I didn’t know where to start. One day I was bored. I started practicing — circles, curves, lines — on myself. I called my sister and asked her if it looked good or if I was just being delusional. She told me I was actually good. That’s when I started taking it seriously. I watched YouTube videos. I practiced more. I started doing henna for friends at school — at lunch, just for fun. At first, I didn’t charge anyone. But people kept telling me I was talented. So I started charging peers at school. Then, I thought, I can do this for people in my community, just like the amazing artists that used to inspire me. I made flyers on Canva. I made an Instagram, a TikTok, even a website. I called it Henna by Fanta.

When Eid came, I charged five dollars per hand. I couldn’t believe it — but people came. They told their cousins. My house was full. My mom cooked food just like those houses had cooked for me.
They came back the next year. It felt good to make money, but it wasn’t really about the money.
It felt good that my work was being appreciated — especially within my own community.
It felt like I accomplished something in my life. Sometimes while I was doing henna on someone else, I thought about being younger — sitting there while someone did it on me. Now I was the one holding the cone. It felt like a full-circle moment. I even felt imposter syndrome at times. But it taught me something about myself.

For a long time, I didn’t think I had my own thing. I’m not athletic. I have good grades, but that didn’t feel like a niche. Henna taught me about my value. About my identity. That sometimes, you just have to get out of your comfort zone. You can find your value in places you never thought to look — in your culture, in your art, in what you love."