"I want to expand.Like the universe,let my body become the void that can nurture energy in pulse waves of pleasure and light but just as easily swallow this world whole,destroy it in dusk"
-- She Ate Her Tale by Dantiel Wynn
I am looking for my own peace, love and light.
I am fascinated by healthy eating and true, raw beauty.
I am impassioned by social issues regarding basic human rights, involving race, gender and sexuality.
I want to capture the world I've experienced in words.
I want to write, live, love and laugh every day.
Last night I had an unsettling thought.
I was examining my hair in the mirror, completely in awe of how absolutely amazing it really is, how intricate.
All the coily kinks wrapping around each other, the soft fuzzy strands that intermingle with it all. It overwhelmed me with its beauty. There is no other hair in the world like mine.
And then I thought, “How is something this beautiful so hated and disrespected in our culture?”
Was it fear of its loveliness?
Take corporations, for example. Every job has a set of rules that an employee must abide by if they wish to attain and maintain a position at the company.
Inclusive in this set of rules is undoubtedly always a dress code: Professional, traditional attire and appearance, no tattoos, no facial piercings ect.
But most of the time, not always spelled out in black and white, under the “professional, traditional attire and appearance”, this means “traditional appearance” of the Eurocentric standard. Oftentimes, hairstyles of Afrocentric origins are discouraged or forbidden, even if neatly kept.
I had an experience of my own when interviewing with the manager of a restaurant where I had applied. We talked schedules, availability, on-the-spot mock sales-the usual second interview jargon.
We eventually got to the dress code, as these conversations usually turn when you’ve owned the interview, won him or her over, and are about to be offered the job.
He told me I’d have to take out my nose ring, which I had expected after the assistant manager told me the same during the first interview the day before. I had already come to peace with that.
Then, casting a surreptitious glance at my faux-hawked twist out, he said, “Um, your hair is fine, but just don’t let it get too-” He stopped and made a motion outwards from his head with both hands.
I cocked my head at a slight angel while keeping a small, stiff smile on my face. Though I couldn’t believe he had done it, I knew exactly what he meant. He’d painted a clear picture for me, no caption needed. “Most of the girls put their hair in buns,” he finished. I told him that as soon as it was long enough, I’d do so to.
I accepted the job, and later, when driving home, I thought of the impact of that moment. This was the first time I had interviewed for a job with completely natural hair. Any other times I’d had relaxed or transitioning hair. In all of those interviews I wore my hair down around my shoulders, and the news that my hair had to be pulled back while I was on the clock never came up.
Why had it come up now?
Getting back to me in wonderment at my natural hair, I knew I had never felt more confident in the truth of my beauty. Accepting myself as I am, without needing alteration. All the years of my life I carried the term awkwardly, sure that my “brand of beauty” came with qualifiers, a set of rules I had to follow to keep the adjective. I never stopped to examine whose rules they were, never fathomed that I didn’t have to at the game.
And it came to me. Maybe natural hairstyles are so tabooed because it is an indication of the level of confidence a person must have to proudly wear their natural hair despite the lowly connotations it inspires because of how it has been portrayed in mainstream media- nappy, unkempt, unprofessional.
And why would you want a group of people you have systematically disadvantaged for hundreds of years to gain confidence in who they are without regard to your standards of acceptability?
Something to think about.
If you’ve given up on reading paper books for the ease of your e-reader’s screen, you may want to step back a bit. Neuroscience confirms that our brains use different areas to read on paper and screens, and you need to exercise both.
“They call it a ‘bi-literate’ brain,” Zoromodi says. “The problem is that many of us have adapted to reading online just too well. And if you don’t use the deep reading part of your brain, you lose the deep reading part of your brain.”
So what’s deep reading? It’s the concentrated kind we do when we want to “immerse ourselves in a novel or read a mortgage document,” Zoromodi says. And that uses the kind of long-established linear reading you don’t typically do on a computer. “Dense text that we really want to understand requires deep reading, and on the internet we don’t do that.”
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if you think black women wearing their hair natural is unprofessional you are racist.
if a white woman worked in a store with hair she hadnt brushed and called it her “natural” hair it would still be unprofessional.
A black woman’s natural hair is of the same quality as a white woman’s unkempt hair.