When I first decided to write my memoirs, I knew it would be an amazing but very difficult journey to revisit my personal history. What I didn't know was how challenging, yet also freeing, it would be. As those who read Alek will come to discover, there was no roadmap for me to enter a career in fashion. I didn't grow up with visions of being on the catwalk or gracing the covers of magazines. I certainly never dreamed of traveling the globe or playing a pivotal part in introducing the season's hot trends to editors and fans of couture around the world. What I did strive to do was make a difference. I didn't know how I would make a difference. I didn't know when. But I knew I had a purpose. We all do.
My beginnings were humble, but happy, in a small town called Wau in Sudan. By way of background, my family is part of the Dinka tribe, which is the largest ethnic tribe in southern Sudan. My days were spent going to school, helping my mother around our modest home, and playing with friends. However, what also loomed large in our lives was death. Countless people were dying, many of whom were innocent bystanders of the civil war that has plagued my homeland for as long as I can remember. So much so that on frequent walks to get water for our family, I witnessed bloodied, slaughtered bodies amidst the beauty of our countryside. We often heard series of gunshots in the night, never knowing when or if our time to flee the place we called home would come and more importantly, if we'd make it out alive. Well, that day did come and we ended up leaving most all of our possessions behind, save for those necessities we could carry on our backs and in our hands. And we walked. For two weeks, we walked to uncertainty, with the hope that when we arrived in the far-away villages, we'd find refuge and be welcomed by family members we barely knew. Eventually, when my younger sister and I were able to escape to London to live with our older sister, a whole new world opened up to me. A very scary, foreign world but one which would ultimately change my life, as well as allow me to help others.
Fashion has never defined me. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all of the opportunities being in this business has afforded me and I've been incredibly blessed to work with the best. However, what I'm truly grateful for is the voice I've been given to tell not just my story but the story of a people who have suffered for far too long. I am defined by all of my experiences -- whether it was taking a job to clean toilets in order to pay for my art supplies while I attended the London Institute; enduring the taunts of my fellow classmates as they teased me about my scaly, lizard-like skin due to a longtime childhood battle with psoriasis; witnessing my mother who only demonstrated strength break down at the sight of family, including her sister whom she hadn't laid eyes on in over 20 years, when we visited Sudan together in 2004; and appearing on the cover of American Elle in 1997 at a time when it was considered risky to have someone as dark-skinned as me on a mainstream fashion magazine cover.
I sincerely hope that by telling my story, I am further opening the eyes of the world to the people of Sudan. My people. I think it is wonderful that there is such a global focus on Sudan and particularly on Darfur. The world needs to know the tremendous suffering which has taken place in that region for decades. Whether it's lending one's voice, contributing money toward relief efforts or enforcing positive change, every effort matters and means something. I pray that people will also let my story serve as one example of all things being possible, no matter the circumstances, and finding good in what appears to be hopelessness. My life has been far from perfect and often may not have seemed fair, but I wouldn't trade any of it. I am a composite of my life's journey thus far -- a proud Dinka woman who has enjoyed a mind-blowing ride in fashion, who deeply loves her family, and believes that everyone can -- and should -- strive to make a difference.