Amel Larrieux- For Real

One of my favorite female vocalists. From her 2005 album Bravebird.

Enjoy

Au Naturale

I've been struggling with writing this post for the past few months. The reason being, I wasn't 100% confident about my decision.

The decision that I'm talking about is going natural.

Unless you are a "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" soul sista like myself, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about.

My HAIR kids, I'm talking about my hair!

For any woman her hair is, as they say it biblically, her "crowing glory." For most black women, our hair is the end all be all of our identity. There are so many versatile styles that we can rock with our hair, and so many statements that we can make while rocking them. As many of my fellow black women know, there are a few statements that you do not want made about you when it comes to your hair. They all may include the words picky, nappy or peasy.

There is the obvious logic that the way you wear your hair does not define who you are as a person, but one's appearance can drastically affect certain aspects of their life (career, hobbies, friends, romance) just to name some things off the top of my head.

As I embark on my 25th year of life and my 2nd full year of living in California, I have had the opportunity to explore who I am as a young woman. Like most people, my idea of beauty was mostly shaped by my mother. A former beautician and glam queen, my mom always took pride in her appearance and the appearance of her kid.

It was normal for us to be up into the wee hour of the morning while she painstakingly washed, pressed and cornrowed my thick unruly hair. I would cry out in agony "owww, don't be so aggressive," and her response would always be the same, "beauty has no pain." Sorry mom, but you lied. Beauty hurts like hell. From the relaxer and straightening comb burns to the headaches of the too tight box braids and corn rows that go under the sew-in weaves, beauty freaking hurts.

I always thought of it as a necessary evil. This relaxer is supposed to burn, I have to sit with it in my hair for a few mins before I wash it out because how else will my edges lay flat? These braid are supposed to be this tight, how else will my braids/weave last?

I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with getting a relaxer, braids or weaves, but I came to the point where I asked myself, "Why am I doing this again?"

There is a perception of the black community that a lot of our beauty practices are done to mimic white people, while some things like skin bleaching and wearing color contacts may be questionable, I don't think it's true.

I've never liked the accusation that relaxing my hair meant I wanted hair like that of a white person's.

Having relaxed hair is another option among the diverse styles that I can pull off.

The truth is, when it came to relaxing my hair I didn't have a choice. I have been getting relaxers ever since I was a small child, as is the norm with many young black females.

I don't fault my mom for doing what she thought she was supposed to do, keeping my appearance acceptable for society. Let's face it, being a nappy headed black kid can be cause for teasing and self hate. I'll be honest, as a kid I am guilty of ridiculing other black girls for not have chemically straightened hair like myself and every other normal black woman I knew.

The past is the past. I can't undo those hurtful things I may have said just like I can't undo 20+ years of getting my hair relaxed.

For the past 5 months I have gone without relaxing my hair. This did not start out as an intentional process, I just had other things to worry about and getting my next touch up was the last thing on my list of problems. It wasn't until I started noticing how much thicker and healthier my roots were becoming, I decided to continue to hold off from getting  my hair relaxed. I began researching transitioning from relaxed to natural and found that there is a vast online community of women that have similar stories to my own.

So I transitioned for 5 months. It was boring. The plan was to grow out my natural hair and just keep trimming the relaxed hair until in eventually grew out completely... didn't happen.

On Wednesday, May 11, 2011, I stood in front of the mirror with a pair of scissors and I proceeded to cut off all of my relaxed hair. I felt like I was cutting away all that I've ever known myself to be for the past 20 or more years. I knew that doing this wouldn't make most of the people in my life happy, some of them be upset and others would be confused. I am ready to be teased, laughed at, criticized, ridiculed and whatever other negative responses that comes with my decision. No one in my immediate family is natural, if they understand fine, if they don't, fine. I didn't do this for anyone but myself. I couldn't be happier.

I'm  not trying to make any political statements with my new hairstyle. It's just hair. It will grow. If I decide to keep it this short for a while that's okay too. The moral of this lengthy story is that I've never felt more confident and beautiful. Right now, I am everything that I was raised to be afraid of; black, bald and nappy headed. I love me and everything that is me. My hair is nappy because it's supposed to be.

An Open Letter To My Mother

Dear Mimi,

today marks the 2nd Mother's day that we've been separated by 3,000 miles. I know that it's been a tough transition for you, but despite your feelings, you have been unconditionally supportive of me and my decisions.

As your only child we have experienced every milestone and pitfall of my life together. Sometimes it seems like you take on the pain harder than I do. I also know that sometimes it seems like I don't appreciate you as much as I should and it hurts you. Saying "sorry" a million times could never repair some of the pain that I've caused you.

For all the tears you've secretly shed, all the anger, worry and embarrassment that you've felt on account of me, I'm saying thank you. Thank you for loving me enough to forgive me each and every single time. 

No child is perfect, but let's be honest, I've been far from great.

I've been hardheaded, stubborn and at times a rotten brat. Yet every time, you've stopped at nothing to sacrifice for me.

Most of the toughest struggles in my life's journey have come on account of my rebellious defiance. You've said so many times, "I told you so" and it kills me every time to realize when it's too late that I should've just listened to you from the very beginning. 

Thank goodness our rough patches are just that, patches. 

The best part of my relationship with you is our friendship. You are the most loyal, honest and kind hearted woman I know. I love our honesty with each other, you give it to me straight up without holding back, and you expect the same from me. Our bluntness may at times hurt each other's feelings, but if your best friend can't tell you the honest truth, who else will?

I don't always tread lightly when it comes to your feelings, but you already know I will protect you from any outsider trying to cause you pain, and you'd do the same for me.

You are a blessing, and I feel so grateful to have you. Many children take their parents for granted, but I think about Aunt Jackie and how tomorrow isn't promised for any of us, I put myself right back in check. I have you now and I'll honor you now. 

I've been telling you ever since I was a kid that one day I'd make you proud of me. One day I'll retire you and let you live off of all my money. I still tell you that, but it's not as cute anymore now that I'm grown and in over my head in student loan debt. You still entertain my imagination, and for that I love you.

One day these big thoughts and dreams will turn out to be something. I have faith, because you taught me to have faith.

You've been everything to me that I couldn't be to myself, and for that I'm blessed. 

I've tried to hide things from you, but you know me better than I know myself. Sometimes I feel so misunderstood by so many people, but it doesn't matter because I know you understand the real me.

You might not always like the way that I dress or even the way that I wear my hair, but you love me.

As mother and daughter we butt heads, but as best friends we have each other's backs no matter what. For this I love you.

There will never be enough "sorrys" or "I Love yous" to make up for all the love, nurturing and support that you've given me, but I will always try to make you proud. 

Mothers day is a day that comes and goes every year, but the energy, love and support that you give me comes everyday and never goes away.  For that I can never repay you. Thank you for everything.

Daina

In honor of mother's day...

all Hail the Fierceness that is Claire Hanks Huxtable.

Denise Huxtable

I miss the Cosby Show. Don’t we all?... I know for a fact that there is not one Cosby Show that I haven’t seen at least four times.

My favorite Huxtable kid was always Denise (Lisa Bonet).

Always cool, even in the early episodes when she had braces, Denise was a stunner.

There were many poor souls that were victims of 80s and 90s fashion, but Bonet’s sense of style transcends the decades. She was a fashion misfit. She dared to rebel from the pretty in pink era.

I loved her mismatched clothes, her wild hair and her ability to make all the boys swoon. (Ain’t that right Dwayne Wayne and Cockroach?)

The entire Huxtable family was relate able, but out of the entire clan, Denise was the one that I could best picture as my cool big sister. Being an only child with an active imagination here's how I'd picture our relationship going:
-I'd want to borrow her clothes. She'd say NO, but I'd sneak and wear her things anyway.
-I'd want to hang out with her and her friends. She'd say NO, but make time to occasionally hang out with me at places where no one that knows her.
-She'd be the prettiest, coolest upperclassman in our high school. I'd be her dorky freshman little sister that she's let sit with her in the cafeteria sometimes.
-She'd graduate and go to Hillman, and surprise me with some of her cool jackets and sweaters.
...As you can see I've really thought long and hard about this relationship.

Alas, all dreams must eventually come to an end. Denise dropped out of college to find herself and went away on a safari in Africa. When she came back she was married to a Naval officer that was a total cornball and she had a cute little step daughter that would have taken all of my shine.

But it was still a good dream while it lasted. Here's to you Denise Huxtable, forever and always, my imaginary cool big sister.