I AM My Hair: Or, Why I've Chosen to "Rebrand"

I came to understand myself as a little girl through the beauty rituals of black womanhood: weekend days in the salon with my mother and sister; hours between my mother's knees as she combed, oiled, and braided; endless tears over lost handfuls of hair after a first relaxer or braid-job gone wrong.

I agree with India Arie when she says; "it's not what's onyour head, it's what's underneath," but I also challenge her: the notion "I am not my hair" denies two realities — First: that Black women are defined by our physical appearance whether we choose to accept or reject those definitions, and second: that the way we adorn our body—literally what we wear, how we look—has a significant affect on our psyche. 

This isn’t news to anyone: you look good, you feel good.  I personally discovered this idea my sophomore year of undergrad after I stopped relaxing my hair— realizing that the person I felt myself to be on the inside did not match up with the person I (and other people) saw on the outside.

As part of a continuing process of self educating, I’ve been reading Rock My Soul: Black People and Self Esteem by the brilliant bell hooks. hooks relies on a quote from Six Pillars of Self-Esteem by Nathaniel Branden: “Integrity is the integration of ideals, convictions, standards, beliefs—and behavior. When our behavior is congruent with our professed values, when ideals and practice match, we have integrity.”
To revisit this idea, I’ve recently undergone a process of rebranding. I call it "rebranding" with an ounce of sarcasm, but I am fully committed to the idea. Here’s how I’m hoping this works: Change the way you look–> change the way you feel–> change the way you are perceived. (Depending on who you are or the circumstance, it could also go this way: change the way you look--> change the way you are perceived--> change the way you feel). 

I realized, in not so many words, that I was not living with integrity. My theory was not integrated with my practice. I believed in the beauty of blackness, but did not perform it. Until I stopped relaxing my hair, I never realized how far from my true self I had been in the past. 

So. I cut off half of my hair. Lost fifteen pounds. Changed my subtle nose ring to the hoop I've always wanted. There’s something empowering about using my body as a site of resistance. (What I mean by this is best explained by youth scholar Sarah Abbots: the body is a site at which oppression is manifested, and from which resistance can be generated.) 

By refusing to conform to a standard of beauty set forth by a seemingly invisible something/one (white, heterosexual males), I’m literally embodying the belief that no one's definition of beautiful is more valuable than mine. 

By wearing my hair natural, I’m prioritizing my own aesthetic over that of an Anglo-Saxon culture that has defined straight hair as beautiful. By wearing my hair short, I’m prioritizing my own aesthetic over that of a patriarchal one that defines long hair as beautiful. If we keep conforming to a standard that tells us that the body in which we feel most comfortable is wrong, ugly, to be hidden, to be adorned only in a way that they approve of, (sick, even), then the definition will not ever shift. We remain prisoners to other people’s thoughts. We give them power.

A teacher of mine once told me “don’t let anyone have power over you.” It is the most valuable lesson I have received to date.  By doing what I want with my body and not apologizing for it (from with whom I choose to share my body to what I put on it or in it), I am choosing to not let anyone have power over me. 

hooks encourages us [black people] to develop oppositional consciousness as a way to decolonize our minds. She defines decolonization of the mind as “letting go of patterns of thought and behavior that prevent us from being self-determining.” In letting go of the ideals that have been created by oppressors and sustained by oppressive systems, I am freeing my mind. 

In short, Nina Simone said it best: Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel. In an effort to get free, I'm trying to learn how to be okay with doing what I want. I am my hair. I am my body. I am my mind. It is a process. Get free, y’all.

 

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Nobody Owes You Anything

 I’m unsure if I should thank godsend humbling experiences, but I’ve learned that no one owes me anything: a job, support, money, a “hook up”, or a Twitter shout out.  Therefore, imagine my surprise when I learned many people who I follow via Twitter do not agree. Recently, I witnessed Twitter Nazis from my university digitally attack Stephen A. Smith for not vocalizing the football team’s recent feats on a major network.  I was left confused as to why people believed that because this man’s degree retained the university’s name, it was an empowering implication that he would exude school pride.  I’m sure Smith’s success up to this point is independent of where he received his undergraduate degree, just as a college education is independent of one’s intelligence.  Moreover, the twitter rant revealed a more salient revelation—the dangers inherent in a sense of entitlement.

I am completely aware that Twitter is a cesspool for pretentious folk. I know this.  As I find myself entertained at the laughable attempts of portraying the pretense of no pretense, I’m reminded of the several instances in which these behaviors permeated academia.   I’ve witnessed several students become angered by ignored emails in their passable attempts at networking. Or, they become displeased at the lack of opportunities they failed to cultivate themselves. As a student in college, you are granted that much more access to a balance between support and resources. How you utilize what is in front of you, however, is your choice and dependent upon your own initiative.  My university’s football team achieved an undefeated season without Stephen A. Smith. Why anyone would want someone who refused involvement at the beginning of a process to be part of their eventual success is beyond me.

I believe one must have a “manageable” sense of entitlement in order to gain a decent level of respect. However, it becomes unmanageable when you expect recognition or support for achievements that are not applaudable.  Life is about access.  You are not entitled to that access.  Your major, achievements made as an alumnus, and self-proclaimed accomplishments are all independent of this access.  Unless you are taking initiative towards your 10,000 hours of expertise (I highly recommend reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell), then your campus involvement and accomplishments achieved within the same student population for however many years becomes trivial once you graduate and compete globally. 

I decided to write this article without any intention to minimize anyone’s accomplishments, as I am positive many are well deserved and worthy of recognition.  However, you owe it to yourself to make “excellence” function as your adjective, and to surpass the expectations of others without looking for their recognition.   Stephen A. Smith continued to live his life, earning a salary, accolades, and with no interest to concede to the requests of angry students. As for the students, well, they continued to rant.  The more you feel you are entitled or that someone owes you, the further you isolate yourself from your own happiness.

de$ap

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Mindful Monday: Liberty and Justice For All

Liberty and Justice For All

On the heels of the horrific shooting in Newtown, CT, we have seen a number of people, famous and otherwise, politicizing the tragedy and making certain religious assertions. While I understand the need to use this issue as a lightning rod to affect change, the focus right now should be on the kids both in Newtown and around the country. Gun control debates aside, there is a meme that has been floating around that captures the kind of religious assertion that I find disturbing.

Lets start with some facts. The Establishment Clause of the First Amendment of the Constitution has generally been interpreted to prohibit 1) the establishment of a national religion by Congress, or the preference of one religion over another by the U.S. government. In the 1963 ruling that combined two cases, the Supreme Court determined that prayers written for public school use by the States were unconstitutional, and that the required recitation of the Lord’s Prayer or daily Bible readings violated the Establishment Clause. (see Abington Township School District v. Schempp and Murray v. Curlett) This effectively ended all prayers in schools, not just Christian prayer--albeit the majority of prayer going on in school was Christian. 

This is often misinterpreted as a rebuke of God by general society and to stifle religious rights.These sentiments, however, are without basis and present a skewed argument.  How fair is it to the young Hindu child to require a recitation of the Lord’s Prayer in class? If you are not Muslim and your child had to pause five times a day face the east and recite the Fajr, Ruhr, Asr, Maghrib and Ishaa, I would assume that you would not  take very kindly to this form of force. 

The ruling was an attempt to make our public schools and our country more accepting of all systems of belief. This absurd idea that God somehow allows these tragedies to happen because he is “not allowed” in our public schools, implicates both immaturity and ignorance. If that is the manner of the deity you serve, you might want to take stock of your moral and mental faculties. 

I firmly believe that all religious teachings and doctrine should be left out of public schools. I don’t expect my children’s teachers to raise my kids or to teach them what morals or practices I believe to be essential--that is my job as a parent. If you wish your child’s education to include religious doctrine there are Catholic schools and Christian academies for exactly that purpose. Public schools are just that, for the public. Last I checked, the general public consisted of a myriad of demographics with different needs, standards, and practices. What people are failing to grasp about this is that America is a free country, it is a great country, and it is a country based on the idea that its diverse population can exercise individual rights without infringing upon the rights of others.

As a Connecticut native with young family members in the area, this tragedy hit especially close to home for me. I would like to extend my deepest condolences to the families affected.  Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

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The Most Important Job I'll Ever Have: The Parent I Hope to Be

*sighs* I adore these two.

Recently, while perusing my often unenlightening Facebook account, I was elated to come across an amazing statement by one my favorite people ever: Jada Pinkett Smith. Her statement was in reference to "letting" Willow cut her hair:  

“This subject is old but I have never answered it in its entirety.And even with this post it will remain incomplete. The question why I would LET Willow cut her hair. First the LET must be challenged. This is a world where women, girls are constantly reminded that they don’t belong to themselves; that their bodies are not their own, nor their power or self determination. I made a promise to endow my little girl with the power to always know that her body,spirit and her mind are HER domain. Willow cut her hair because her beauty, her value, her worth is not measured by the length of her hair. It’s also a statement that claims that even little girls have the RIGHT to own themselves and should not be a slave to even their mother’s deepest insecurities, hopes and desires. Even little girls should not be a slave to the preconceived ideas of what a culture believes a little girl should be.”

As many of you may have heard, the Smiths areoften criticized and questioned about the methods they use in parenting theirchildren, and while many will argue their parenting style may be a bitunorthodox, I don't think their methods are unorthodox at all. 

After reading her response, I immediately began thinking about how important it is not only for our little girls, but for our little boys to know where their worth lies and where it most certainly does not. I also began to think about my childhood and some of my own freedoms I had while growing up and how thankful I am to my parents for allowing me to have them. By no stretch of the imagination were we rich or privileged by any means,but my parents made sure that I was exposed to so many things (people, ideas,experiences, etc.) - which ultimately played a major role in how I developed and how I now see and process the world.

Like the Smiths (and my parents), I hope to expose my children to everything. I want to be their first source of validation; ingraining this into their minds from the time that they are old enough to comprehend that they alone are enough. I want them to know their worth and have the freedom to express themselves and even in that, be able to stand by and live with whatever decisions they make in any area of their lives. It is my sincere prayer to raise children who are aware by creating a household where the search and acquisition of knowledge is not only encouraged, but also required. As a mother, I hope to have the courage that Jada (yes, I really believe it takes courage) has to truly embrace the idea and practice of allowing my children the freedom to find themselves and be the people they were meant to be; not what society suggests for them.

Nakia D.

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When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong: Captain Save-A-Ho (Family Edition)

The dust settles, the smoke clears, and you're left holding your proverbial dick in your hand. Nothing has changed for the better. You're in the same position and state you were when you decided to lend a helping hand you knew would be to your own detriment. You allow your inner voice to be muffled. Your own sense of peace is exchanged for the semblance of appreciation delivered to you in half-hearted thank yous, artificial declarations of contingent love, and, what you believe to be, the ability to sleep at night feeling as though you helped someone else. The only issue with that, though, is that your peaceful sleep is disrupted because, now, you're bitter, habitually rueful, and unable to progress. You've become the stepping-stone for everyone to accomplish their hopes and dreams--a springboard to catapult your loved ones to the next stage of their lives while you remain...stuck.

There's an old saying: "You can't pour from a pitcher that's empty." Despite my gross overuse of second person pronouns (I think it's a coping mechanism. I sometimes hate to think I'm in such a preventable situation), this article, as with most of my writing, is an open letter of sorts to myself first, then to others. Constant neglect of self in favor of the advancement of others only hurts you in the long run; loss of chances in life due to lack of available resources; loss of friendships and familial ties because of your inability to express yourself. This all stems from one place, though: pleasing others. That gnawing you get when you know someone isn't satisfied with a choice you've made. That nagging you feel when you know that you've made a decision that will benefit your life greatly, but MAY cause slight and, quite possibly, temporary discomfort to those around you. Therefore, you choose to forego your own contentment and go through that cycle once more, one that always ends in you throwing a solo pity party.

Ya'll are probably reading this and saying, "This negro has yet to use 'I' once. You're right. Let me associate myself closer with this issue.

The frequency in which I (y'all like that, don't you?) find myself in this situation is quite astonishing. Many friends and family have come into my life, gotten something from me, and moved upward. Whether it be with school, employment, relationships, or anything else, they stay winning and I remain black and underemployed.

In church, they tend to tell us that God has a way of getting your attention through the many different situations that he puts you in. I disagree in part. I believe God gives us many signs that we need to back the hell up and reevaluate some shit, yet we ignore. So, he/she/whatever you prefer to call it steps back and lets us put ourselves in situations that will get our own attention.

When I think back, one-hundred-percent of the conditions I'm in are self-inflicted and completely consequential of the choices I've made. We could get into the details of the way I was raised, how what I can do for others played an intricate role in the vision of my own self-worth, but that's for another time, and another article. This shit here; this is for the healed part of me that can now accept that my self-worth isn't in what I can provide to others in terms of material items, but more in the realm of the intangible.

Listen, now, Mother Vanzant can go on tangents and pull stuff out of that kid 'n play fade, but take a portion from the message she gives above. Without keeping yourself fully capable of supporting yourself, you're doing a disservice to the world.

I hope this penetrated your souls 'n shit. Be blessed.

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what i'd tell my daughter one day by Afua Asiamah-Adjei

[Contributor's Note: Below is a letter a sister-friend of mine wrote in 2008. I thought it'd be an appropriate summation of this week's articles bolstering fearlessness, communication, and transparency. But I could have never foreseen its relevance in the wake of today's tragedy which has befallen our brothers, sisters, and babies at Sandy Hook Elementary School. It's important to live and let live while we can...in abundance...and altruistically. - juh] 

what i'd tell my daughter one day.

by Afua Asiamah-Adjei 

If i ever have the opportunity to be a mother and give birth to a black girl-child, I'd write her the following letter and leave it in a box where she would be allowed to read it at 11.... the supposed dawn of puberty.

Dear daughter:

It was your great god-mother, Audre Lorde who had once said this in a letter she wrote and left for me in a collection of essays: "Black women are programmed to define ourselves within this male attention and to compete with each other for it, rather than to recognize it and move upon our common interests.....For so long, we have been encouraged to view each other with suspicion, as eternal competitors, or as the visible face of our own self-rejection." 

I pray you never worship self-proclaimed kings to the extent where you lose yourself, your soul and whatever is black and female....your sister's bond. 

I pray you never walk the earth a scorned woman who only sees vertical dreams while laying horizontal to catch them between your thighs. 

I pray you never weigh yourself down with emotional baggage of self-destruction as a broken heart rips through your chest and pierces your lungs, making it hard to breath with the pressures of what society wants you to feel as a woman...or perceives you to be as a black woman. 

I pray you never plot your own demise by selling yourself short, whether by only loving black men and not ALL men; or telling yourself that you can never fall in love with another woman. 

I pray you never get ugly with a vindictive streak used to slice the egos of other women, your sisters, in the spirit of jealousy over men who can never defecate stools of gold even if they tried. 

I pray you will experience the good fortune of loving another black woman, and not seeing her as a mere competitor or enemy, but as a part of you. 

I pray you will learn how to love as well as you've learned how to survive. Black mothers' gift to their children is survival; but my gift to you will be tenderness in which you can connect elements of the universe with a gift of grace, tolerance and self-love.

I pray you never let a man become the center of your pain upon which you project on your sisters. Not that another woman won't hurt you; but the primary reason why black women hate each other is due to competition to win the heart of a black man...the scarce "prize" they were socialized to believe in that never stays.... no matter how high he's elevated or how deep he is buried inside you.

Dear daughter, I pray you'll find yourself before society finds you and tell you who you should be as a black woman by implanting stones in your heart for you to throw at another black woman, the "said" source of your pain.

(you all should read A. Lorde.)

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But it Says Here...

“If I look up 'carrot' in the dictionary, most people will acknowledge I do not know all there is to know about carrots and if I truly want to understand carrots, I should probably pick up a horticultural text book. We know that legal and medical terms are going to be, at best, simplistically represented and know we need to find a lawyer or a doctor if we want to know more. Anyone deciding to base their argument on, say, a philosophical concept or term using the dictionary is going to be laughed at at best, or automatically lose whatever argument they’re trying to make at least.

Yet the minute we move into a social justice framework, the ultimate authority changes. We don’t need lived experience, we don’t need experts who have examined centuries of social disparities and discrimination, we don’t need societal context. We don’t need sociology or history – no, we have THE DICTIONARY! That ultimate tome of oracular insight, the last word on any debate!

It’s patently ridiculous and you can see that by applying it to any other field of knowledge. But the privileged will continually trot out simplistic, twitter-style dictionary definitions as if they are the last word and the ultimate authority. No-one would drag out the dictionary to debate science with a scientist. But they’re more than willing to trot out a dictionary definition of racism over any sociological analysis. A dictionary is not the ultimate authority - they’re a rough guide for you to discover the simple meaning of words you’ve never heard before – not an ultimate definition of what the word means and all its contexts.”

 - Sparky, Womanist Musings

 

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