Has Anyone Ever Told You That You Look Like Mos Def?
Finding inspiration through my doppelganger & a woman with a gold tooth
It’s been nearly three years since I posted my first video on social media as Garden Marcus. In the early days, the most common comments that flooded my notifications were:
“You’re so wholesome!”
“He’s this generation’s Mr. Rogers.”
“I love how positive you are!”
People still respond to my videos with these sentiments, but there is one remark that I have continued to receive more consistently than any other. It’s a comment that isn’t unique to social media, as people everywhere I go have been telling me this since I turned 20.
“Bro you look like Mos Def.”
“You the Mos Def of plants.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Mos Def?”
“It’s Mos Def.”
According to the internet and seemingly everybody I meet, I bear a resemblance to Yasiin Bey, the artist known as Mos Def. I’ve been mistaken for him on more than one occasion - in fact, the first time I heard of him, it was because a woman believed I was him.
I’d just finished an incredible work experience in North Carolina. There were a few weeks left before the start of my senior year of college, and I was looking forward to visiting a friend in Boston. My journey consisted of a train from North Carolina to New York City and a bus from New York City to Boston. I noticed a small woman eyeing me as I entered the train and settled in a seat for the ride. Maybe she was nervous and scouting her company for the trip, keeping an eye out for potential trouble. Could she be weighing her chances of successfully robbing me? I tried not to think much of it.
My journey came to a halt in Washington. The staff announced we would be delayed for forty minutes due to a problem ahead of us on the route. Cheese and rice. A delay! Sitting still isn’t a favored activity of mine. The length of the train ride with an impending bus was already a test for me, but there was nothing to be done, so I journaled.
The woman paced the train throughout our long stop, and whenever she got near me she would stare me down. It was discomforting at first, I had not figured out she kept focusing on me, and me alone. I stole glances at her when she was otherwise preoccupied. Many would look at her petite form and dismiss her as a threat, but I knew better than to underestimate anyone. She had a delicate pointed face and a mole under her right eye. A purple scrunchie secured her pulled-back hair into a bun, and a gold tooth flashed in the light when she moved her mouth. She reminded me of someone from home.
I got off the train to get a change of scenery and some fresh air, journal in hand. The forty minutes the staff warned us of had come and gone, and another couple hours of the delay had been announced. I wrote outdoors until the summer heat and my growing sense of restlessness sent me back on the train. As I stepped up the doors, the woman made her way through the door. She paused and her wide eyes searched my face. What could she be looking for? It was time to confront her.
"Do we know each other?" I asked her. Maybe that's why she was staring at me.
"Oh my God. It's Mos Def," she said excitedly, sunlight glinting off her gold tooth.
"Who's Mos Def?" I responded, more confused than before. She walked off the train and sat on the bench I’d written from, lighting a cigarette.
"Of course you gon say 'who Mos Def' like you don't know." She dismissed my confusion like I was hiding something from her.
"No really, I don't know." I followed her to the bench, and we continued our conversation. She stopped ogling me and my discomfort lessened.
“Where you comin’ from?” She asked in between drags of her cigarette. “Let me guess - you goin’ to New York. You probably do this all the time, pretendin’ to be a normal person.”
“I’m coming from school,” I responded, explaining I studied technical direction. I focused on working behind the scenes. “But, I am an artist by nature, and I’ve done some acting.”
"Mmhmm," she looked at me knowingly, unsurprised.
"And I've been writing poetry today." I said, holding up my journal.
"Then let me hear it!" She commanded. Apparently this Mos Def of hers rapped and made hip hop music. I figured once she heard my words, she'd realize how different we were. I'd made a point to avoid artists people told me I reminded them of to cultivate my own unique creativity and inspiration.
"I knew it! You sound just like him!" She exclaimed when I finished. "You gotta come with me, they gon love this," and she brought me over to a group of people on the train who she knew.
She had me share the poem again for the crowd.
"What! It's Mos Def little brother!"
"You sound just like Def! I saw him in a concert!"
"You HAVE to know who Mos Def is!"
The group erupted in appreciation for my impromptu performance and disbelief at my claims to be unfamiliar with this artist they clearly respected.
"What else you got, young buck?" A man encouraged me to continue. We all reconvened outside and there, between two train rides and some dim lighting, I shared my poetry with one of the best audiences I’ve ever performed for.
The woman favored my prose, and oohed and aahed with delight throughout my set.
I've referenced the depression that followed me throughout my early 20s in previous pieces, but it's important for this story to mention my despirited nature and the reclusiveness that had come to define me in college. I didn’t trust anybody and rarely shared my thoughts or work, conscious it could be stolen, taken advantage of, used against me, or used to make fun of me.
So why share my poetry with the woman?
Truthfully, I yearned to. One way I define depression is “having a gift and not using it/not being able to use it.” It was likely because she believed I was Mos Def, not a college student with a notebook, that she goaded me into my first reading, but she did not scorn me when I finished (though some part of her might have been in denial I was not a celebrity). Albeit a couple years prior, similar to my conversation with the smelly man on the train in Chicago, I left the exchange encouraged and invigorated.
Her friends and travel company had no reason to listen to me or care about what I had to share, but they chose to engage me, and I chose to engage back. I didn’t politely excuse myself after the first poem as I could have; I decided to stay and share more at their request. I felt lighter with each reading, my heart opening to love and the shadows clearing from my mind. Through shared smiles and laughter, they offered me feedback, and I listened eagerly, new words and lines coming to me faster than I could remember.
I believe words and poetry are gifts of mine. My depression and the difficulties of my junior year of college made it so I did not realize how disconnected I’d become from my gifts. I wrote daily for myself but never considered sharing with others, and not using my gifts to spark joy and promote community compounded the depression I had to begin with.
I had the chance to look up Mos Def later, and I realized I was familiar with a couple of his songs but hadn’t known who was behind them. I explored more of his work and learned we had more than looks in common - not only does he make music, but acts and creates art across disciplines. I found his work is complex and thought-provoking. If I have to be confused with any artist, I don’t mind it being Yasiin Bey.
When I was down, a stranger asked me to share with her, and though I could have done without her off-putting stares, she redirected my energy from a trail of depression to a path of joy. The paranoia and reservation I’d felt toward other people in the past year had stifled my spirit from a bonfire to a candle, and the accompanying depression kept emotions like happiness and joy at bay. In sharing my gift, I remembered how good it felt to engage, learn, smile, and laugh with others. I began retraining myself to enjoy life and the company of others, and my senior year of college was infinitely better than the previous one.
Over a decade and hundreds of Mos Def comments later, a thought comes to me. Has anyone told Mos Def he looks like Garden Marcus?
Thanks for subscribing to Life’s Toolbox! I hope you have a beautiful weekend.
Things to check out in the meantime:
My newest guided meditation
My recent juicing experiment
Has Anyone Ever Told You That You Look Like Mos Def?
Absolutely lovely. Thank you for sharing!
This was such a fun and interesting story to imagine and read! Transportation delays, in my experience, truly bring people together. Thank you so much for sharing back then and sharing now too!