Natural

So a week and one day ago around 3:30 PM EST I got this insatiable urge to chop off all my hair. I took the scissors and I could not stop myself. I kept cutting and cutting and cutting some more. It was addictive. It just felt right. I watched my look change with each chop.

I have been wanting to do the natural thing for the past 18 months but I found every excuse in the book not to do it. I grew up like most black women in which our hair was considered our crown and glory. In the southern black community hair should be long, straight and always done. Nappy was a no no! The time, effort and money spent on keeping your “hair did” would shock the average person when you step back to look at it. If I had a dollar for every minute I have spent IN a salon I would be on Oprah’s level by now. After college I remember being a slave to the beauty salon every Thursday. I had a standing appointment at 6 and I would leave the salon around 11pm. It was the biggest waste of time but so very necessary to keep my hair “right.”

Right equaled straight, bouncy and anything other than kinky…in other words European. I hate to be on some black vs. white stuff, but when it comes down to it black women have been taught to ignore their natural beauty in search of society’s version of what is beautiful. Yes, black is considered beautiful now in some circles but when you closely examine who is considered beautiful in society the features of these people are a bit European. Halle Berry comes to mind. Beyonce. Vanessa Williams. I am not knocking these black women because they are indeed beautiful, however, beauty does not always equal white.

The saddest part of it all is that I am 30 years old and I do not know the real texture of my hair. I have been perming and pressing it so long that I had no idea what my actual hair looked like. I also have no idea how to treat it. For that alone I feel robbed on some level. I missed that privilege. I missed that freedom.

So I have taken that privilege of knowing all of me back! Despite my mother’s outrage and other people’s opinion I am rocking my baby fro with pride! At times I look in the mirror and I do not even recognize myself.  Most times I look in the mirror and it just feels so so so natural.

Freedom is natural.

 

A window

When the world seems to feel like it is crumbling all around me I find solace in knowing that God will provide me a way of escape. I look back on situations that seemed impossible and somehow I found myself on the other side of that obstacle. I can only trust and believe it due to my faith and the power of my Creator. I am not a super religious person but I believe in God and I have a personal relationship with Him. I believe that my steps have been ordered and predestined. When the world’s doors are closed God provides a window.

I am thankful for my window.

Southern Guls

I grew up in the south but I never felt southern. Many would argue that Texas is not exactly the “south.” However, a compass would beg to differ. When I think of the south I tend to think of Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia and the Carolinas. So mentally I am exempt from being called a southerner. To be honest, I have harbored some contempt to the south. This is mostly due to it’s ties to racism and backwards thinking all tucked in by the huge bible belt it is hard to really want to be a part of it all. I mean the fact that I cannot buy alcohol on a Sunday alone just irks the crap out of me. I remember after the Atlanta Olympics how Atlanta was the place to be. A lot of my friends from college were migrating in mass numbers to the south? Being the natural antagonist that I am I ignored this trend and headed up North. I spent some time in New York to eventually migrate over to the midwest in Chicago. I meshed well in both cities which confirmed that I was NOT a southerner and there was nothing that the south could really offer a girl like me.

 

While the south has a lot of drawbacks, one upside is the women—Southern Guls.

Paper

When I pledged back in college there were girls at other schools who made the cut due to their qualifications. They did not have to endure the craziness of the pledging process. Women who pledged after graduating also escaped this process. While we respect them as sorority sisters we call them “paper.” On paper they are sorority sisters because they meet the qualifications. However, they missed out on the bonding, the struggle and creating memories that would last for a lifetime. I will admit that I did not bond with all my sorority sisters, but the ones I did connect with trust me when I say it was heavier and deeper than paper.

 

Today I was chatting with a friend about relationships and how much our value systems have changed. We both walked around with our lists of all the things we wanted our ideal person to have. Be it physical attributes, qualities, possessions or accomplishments, we all have or have had a good long list of must haves.

 

It is easy to obsess over these things that I like to call “on paper.” It is not wrong and in fact it is easier when this world filled with so many options. I have dated these paper girls. Yes, things made perfect sense right off, but there was something empty or something missing at the end of the day. Maybe it is that needed more balance because we tend to attract people who are similar to us. Maybe the outsides match but our insides did not for whatever reason. Maybe it was just the chemistry. Maybe there were some external issues playing a factor. Who knows?

Intimacy

When I was kid my mom used to teach me words by first using them in a sentence. Then she would spell the word. Next she would say the word over and over again until my brain clicked and my big bright eyes would indicate that I got it. Whenever a word had multiple syllables she would use the word association trick.  So even now I break words down and maybe that is why I enjoyed Latin as much as I did in high school and later in college. 

Today the word intimacy has been in my head. In-Ta-Ma-See. I keep saying this word in my head like that child trying to learn what it means and how to use it. In-ta-ma-see. This is how my brain works: In-tu-ma-see. In-ta-mi-cee. In-to-me-see. Into me see.

The result: Into you to make me see.

Intimacy is something created by listening, talking and just being there.

It demands time.

*looking at my watch*

I’ve got time.

 

 

Look there’s hope man…

Cuz dreams of being Hova went from being a BROKE man to being a DOPE man. To being a PRESIDENT. Look there’s hope man! – K. West

Everyone that knows me know that I have toyed with the idea of public service. When I saw this article it made me smile. I thought that I would share:

Webb becomes Virginia’s first openly gay African-American elected official

Dear Mama

To my friend…

The person I can call at any hour to say absolutely nothing. 

I can lean on her when I cannot lean on myself. 

So many jams she has saved and removed me from. 

She is my angel on earth. 

She never judges me. 

She always forgives. 

She loves me unconditionally. 

She always praises me. 

She always remind me of how great I am and how I am her biggest joy.

She taught me the little things and she lives a life to show me how to handle the big things. 

She can look at me and with one glance knows if I’m okay. 

When I’m sad I find my way to her and many times I do nothing. Just being in her presence is enough. 

At my lowest moments she tells me to pray and she immediately stops and prays for me. 

She is nosey as heck. 

She can push like no one else.

She can nag and remind me to do something a million times.

She can really get on my nerves.

But through it all she is really my best friend. 

I admire her. 

I love her more than love. 

The Good Life

It is easy to focus on the bad in the world or to complain when things are going all wrong. While we’re in a moment of good we forget to stop and smell it.

I’m greedy so I want to taste, feel, touch and smell it.  I guess for now I’ll just list it (You know I love lists!!!):

1. Barack Obama will be the Democratic Presidential Nominee in 2008. Sorry Hill but check your watch because it is time to go!

2. I have found a professional mentor who has committed to help me find my way and my place within in my company long term.

3. I found gas for $3.49 per gallon Thursday

4. I found the keys to Kanye West’s “Everything I Am”

5. Spending Friday night with my favorite person eating chicken fingers, sipping rum and watching movies at the drive-in.

6. Making out like 10th graders…3rd base!

7. Getting a smile from a puppy because she’s happy you took her out to potty.

8. Sleeping past noon with a warm body reeeal close to you…the new sex.

9. Catching up with friends…updates…

10. Cherry Slurpees, the old fashion kind…Target still has them.

 

 

Music: Kanye West

I, the anti-suburb buppie, drove 30+ miles to Bumfuck, Georgia to see the Kanye West ”Glow in the Dark Tour.” The tour featured the hip-hop skateboard Muslim, Lupe Fiasco, who I think is dope but for some reason I cannot fully get into his hype. No disrespect. He was followed by N.E.R.D. a group featuring Pharrell that I have been jocking since late undergrad. I’m a closet rock lover so the hip-hop fusion is the sweetest thing to me. Rihanna brought sexy back in her own little Caribbean way. Her vocals were not strong but she was nice to look at. Like Kanye says, “…And she got the goods
And she got that ass, I got to look, sorry!” The concert was good. The energy was there. The crowd was excited. All was good.

The house went dark. We immediately stood to our feet. For months I anticipated what I was about to witness. Then all of sudden the stage started to glow. Lights were everywhere. My eyes began to grasp that what used to be the stage and is now a landscape of space. I looked at the screen and I see Kanye. He is lying on his back somewhere in orbit while his computer generated sidekick Jane tries to wake him. The screams and cheers from the crowd help her out. Kanye rises to his feet and the musical journey takes off. His first words: 

Wake up, Mr. West, Mr. West, Mr. Fresh
Mr. by-his-self-he-so-impressed
I mean, damn, did you even see the test
You got D’s mother fucker, D’s, Rosie Perez
And yes, barely pass any and every class
Looking at every ass
Cheated on every test
I guess this is my dissertation
Homie, this shit is basic
Welcome to graduation
 Good morning!