The Problem with Natural Black Hair

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I lied… THERE IS NO PROBLEM!!! Do you see this gloriousness?!?! When I see pictures of a group of naturalistas I almost feel giddy. Because it is a beautiful sight. Hell, even when I see a crowd of black women with natural, relaxed, wigs, short, long, braids, afros, locs, etc, my heart swells with pride at the stunning variety.
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In fact, if you think about it, if when we, as black women, see a group of stunning natural sistahs and are struck with pride, envy, and awe, imagine what those who aren’t black feel. Which is why there is a “problem” with natural hair.

 

 

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They can lie all they want and say that natural hair is threatening, unruly, unprofessional, etc. What they’re really saying (especially after seeing beauty magazines try to copy our style, but with different names) is, “I’m so f*cking jealous of what you can do with your hair and pull it off so effortlessly. You’re hair is cool and trendy and unique and I can’t compete with that ish. So instead, I’m going to make you feel ugly and inferior.”

I’ve made it my life’s purpose to watch and pay attention to why people do what they do. I’m a writer and what motivates people is something I’ve always been interested in. So I notice these things. It won’t be true in every case, of course. But I’m telling you, more often than not, it is so very much about the jealousy.

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If it wasn’t, folks wouldn’t try so hard to emulate what we do…

And for me, personally, I don’t care if you want to copy our style (aka culturally appropriate) as long as you:

  1. Don’t rename it to try and make it your own (That’s just rude and stealing) See: Cornrows [the real name] aka Boxer Braids [the bullsh*t made up name], Bantu Knots [the real name] aka Twisted Mini Buns [the bullsh*t made up name], so on and so forth
  2. When sh*t goes down and black people or any other races that you sample from, are treated poorly, get your ass up and fight along with us
  3. Don’t tell us that our hair is unacceptable at work or anywhere else for that matter and then wear the same style (just renamed) a minute later.

Because after all, imitation is the highest form of flattery. Just so long as you give credit where credit is due. And the credit goes to our maker who made us in his image and our creativity to manage what he gave us. Please, respect it.

And for the rest of us, let’s enjoy, revel, and be proud of what was given to us naturally. For it is beautiful.

 

***I do not own the rights to these photos.***

Happy New Year?

Hey, folks! Long time no see. I’m sorry I’ve been away and inconsistent for a while. I’ve been too flabbergasted with the changes this country is going through to even come up with anything truly coherent to write about.

Relationships? Meh.

Body image? Who cares?!

Trumpelthinskin? Don’t even get me started.

Anything I’d write would sound more like the ravings of a lunatic. Incoherent, spit-filled rants.

So instead, I’ve been trying to get my ducks in a row just in case this country goes to hell in a handbasket. I’m not above running to another country. Especially, considering I’ve wanted to move for years anyway. The election results just put a fire under my ass to get going.

Anyway, I have some trips planned this year and I pray that they revive my creativity. Hopefully, I’ll be able to write a fun travel segment.

Stay tuned…

Stay hopeful.

The Electronic Companies Ruined Modern Relationships…Among Other Things.

Let me preface this post by saying, this article is more than likely not factually correct. It is just my opinion and random observation.

Now that that’s out of the way. I totally blame Apple and their iPhone for the ruination of modern relationships. How so, do you ask?

Well, as far as I can recall Apple is the first to start the whole, “We know we just released a new phone just six months ago, but hey look we’re releasing a new one!” This started a culture of ‘I want what’s new and I want it now!’ It didn’t matter that consumers’ phones were only six months old. I didn’t matter that their contract wasn’t up and they had to pay full price for the upgraded phone. All everyone cared about was getting the upgraded version. The newest and hottest thing. And other electronic companies followed suit.

The result: This way of thinking. This goldfish level attention span crept its way into everything. Video games and their consoles, movies, music, and relationships. Young people don’t want anything to do with what’s old (unless it’s hipster cool like vinyl albums). I’ve talked to my nephew who is 22-years-old about older movies and he turns his nose up. I’m talking the Matrix here! Not To Kill A Mockingbird. And let’s not even talk about music. When Prince tragically past, young people were asking who he was. Really? And when Missy Elliot performed with Katy Perry during the Superbowl half-time show a couple of years ago, kids were asking who this chick was trying to copy Nicki Minaj. Or when they thought Kanye was going to help Paul McCartney’s career. Come on!!! I’ve even heard someone young say, “Tyrese sings?!” or “The dude from the Hunger Games (Lenny Kravtiz) is a musician?!”

And don’t even say, “Well, I doubt you listened to older music or watched old movies when you were a kid.” Because that would be false. I actively watched old musicals. The King and I and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers are two of my favorites that I own. I found Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers on my own in Jr. high and went to the library to rent their movies. I’ve always loved 50’s doo-wop music and Motown. And I went on a search to find who sang At Last until I found Etta James, bought her greatest hits and fell in love with her and her voice.

Anyway, I digress. The point is, this new ‘I gotta have it and its gotta be new’ trend has seeped its way into everything. Even relationships. With new dating apps coming out daily, giving people more and more options, people have no incentives to stay in relationships anymore. ‘Oh, he’s cute! But I bet if I swipe left there will be someone hotter.’ ‘I like you, but what if there’s someone better around the corner? So how about we just Netflix and Chill instead of getting too serious?’ ‘I DMed this hot girl on IG. She’s so much hotter than my lady. I think I’m gonna smash that on the DL.’

It’s sad and depressing. I don’t even want to dip my toe in this jacked up dating pool. More than ever it may be imperative that I stick to my age range and pray that this culture hasn’t made its way into my older generation. I’d prefer not to be a ‘Left Swipe.’

 

For anyone older that doesn’t know what the acronyms are, here is a key:

  • DMed- Direct Messaged
  • IG- Instagram
  • DL- Down Low

 

Decades…

I often hear people say that they wish they could go back to when they were a little kid or in high school or their 20s. You wanna know what I say? I say, “Fuck that noise!”

First of all, if you’re saying this, it means that you’re not enjoying the decade you’re in. Which always seems to be the case. When we’re kids, many of us can’t wait to be adults. And then when we become adults, we wish we were kids. No one stops to appreciate the now. Well, I have to say with complete honesty, that I loved and pretty much made the most of every single decade I’ve been blessed to have thus far. Well, maybe not my teen years, but I’ll get to that.

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When I was little, grade school age, I loved it. I enjoyed playing outside, watching cartoons, going on family trips to amusement parks, even school. I ran through the grass, playing hide & seek. I army crawled with my brother in the woods. I ate cookie dough at slumber parties, while watching and reenacting Dirty Dancing. Other than being teased about my weight and getting in trouble with my parents, I loved being a kid.

 

 

The Awkward Years

Decades 22High school was a bit rougher. I was insecure and trying to figure out who I was. A lot of it was bad because I had a friend that wasn’t really a friend. She had my self-esteem so low that I walked down the halls with my head down and not making eye contact with anyone. But then I dropped her and found friends that actually complimented each other and made each other feel good about themselves. That’s when I went to parties, drank a few wine coolers and tried weed for the first time. Not a good experience, by the way. There was a lot of crying and talking about Jesus being ashamed of me. I really don’t wanna talk about it.

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In college and my 20s, I had a great freakin’ time! This was the time of learning to be independent. Well maybe not financially, but being away from my parents as I tried to make decisions on my own. I learned how to drink or how not to drink. I gained life-long friendships. I learned to stand up for myself. I learned about my sexuality. Boy did I ever learn that. Let’s just say, I enjoyed myself. I learned about relationships and how to be a girlfriend. I barely had a care in the world and didn’t think much about my future.

The ‘Time of My Life’ Years

Now, currently in my late 30s, I can say this has been the best decade thus far. I ended my twenties and celebrated my Dirty Thirty in Japan(can’t get much better than that) when I taught English there for a year. I came back to the States and moved back to my hometown in Illinois. After spending time in Japan, Taiwan, and Vietnam, Joliet wasn’t enough for me anymore and I packed up once more and moved across country to Long Beach, California. I spent four years there struggling to make ends meet and then packed up again and moved to Arizona when my parents decided to retire here. Here is where I figured out my calling. Figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. And the last three years, I’ve been working on building my writing career.

The 30s have been beautiful in so many ways. During this time of travel and self-exploration, I have learned many things. One of the best things I’ve learned is that  I do things in my own time. No one can dictate to me how I live my life. I learned that I don’t have to have a man to feel beautiful or to be happy. I learned that if I don’t want to have kids, I don’t have to have them. And fuck those who say otherwise. I learned what I wanted to do with my life and though it is a constant struggle, I love it. I learned that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side, that shit’s just spray painted. Which taught me to stop worrying about keeping up with the Jones, but to outdo myself each and every year. I learned to love me in all my beautiful flaws and glory.

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Onward and Upward

Now my 40s, I’m hoping that it’ll be the decade to appreciate all that I learned and worked towards in my 30s. I’m gonna name it and claim it! So it is written. So it is done.

Babies=Lifelong Commitment to Someone You May Not Even Like

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Marriage. That word is filled with commitment and apparently, a lot of hard work. But here’s the thing. Say, you no longer love or even like your spouse. You can cut the ties and get a divorce. And you never have to see them again, especially if there are no children. Ah…children. Which brings me to the point of this post.

Children. That word is filled with more commitment than any marriage certificate ever could. You see, every time you lay down with someone in bed, ready to make whoopie without protection, aside from possible diseases, you’re potentially creating something that could tie you to this person for the rest of your life! Do you hear me? THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!

So ask yourself…Do I really like this person that much? Now I’m pretty sure some of you are like, “Well, I wouldn’t be having sex with them if I didn’t at least like him/her.” To which I say, I’ve been in a relationship that if I dug really deep, I would’ve said “I don’t even really like you. You’re kind of an asshole.” And I know I’m not the only one this has happened to. You get so caught up in the idea of love than actually being in love with this person. You want the relationship to work so badly that you ignore the fact that you don’t even really like the person all that much. Just so you don’t have to say you’re alone.

Then you think that having a baby will make it better. Or maybe you “accidentally” get knocked up. Though honestly, there’s no such thing. Unless he slipped you a roofie and had sex with you without your knowledge. Whenever we sleep with someone without a condom or any form of birth control, you’re playing Russian Roulette with your uterus. Anyway, I digress. So then you get prego. Now, no matter what happens in your relationship, you’re stuck with this person for life.

If you break up? Birthdays. Holidays. Graduations. Weddings. Grandkids. The list could go on and on. All these major life events, milestones, and celebrations will have to be shared with that person. And if one or the other decides to disappear to leave the other with all the responsibility of the child, then no, you don’t have to deal with them for the rest of your life…physically. But even if they’re not there, every time you look at that child you’re going to see his/her features or mannerisms. Or just plain and simply remember the presence of this person almost every day because you had a child with them. Or see the hurt in your child’s face when mom or dad isn’t there for all those life events. So instead of annoying you with their presence, they annoy you with their ghost.

I’ve seen enough people turn up their noses at their exes/baby mommas/baby daddies with a look of “What was I thinking?” to know that this situation is not ideal. So please, think to yourself, “If I were to break up with this person for whatever reason, would I be okay seeing them for every holiday, birthday, or milestone in my child’s life for the rest of my life?” If the answer is no, then you know what to do.

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Big D Doesn’t Always Equal Big O

So, we as women often fantasize about finding the Big D. Dreams of 7, 8, or 9+ inch wangs dancing around our heads like candy-coated gumdrops. We imagine finding the Holy Grail of cock and it hitting all the right spots. Sending uncontrollable tremors through our thighs and cramps in our curled toes. Le sigh…

Though often, an orgasm is not what you’ll get. Your legs will shake, alright. Only because he’s tilting your uterus! Trust me, I dream of Big D just as much as the next girl. Hell, I even write about it! But after talks with friends and other females and my own experiences…Big D might not be all that it’s cracked up to be.

My theory…

I’ve heard men say that they’ve met a super hot chick and was so stoked to get her home. Once they’re in the middle of bumping nasties, they realized, “this isn’t even close to what I imagined it would be.” Many times this is because the hot chick thinks that she doesn’t have to put forth much effort because…well…”I’m hot! He’s lucky I’m even giving him a shot.” Now get with the “chubby girl” (I’m one of them) or the girl that’s not classicly pretty and she may put forth some more effort. Usually, because we feel that we have too, to compete with the “hot chicks” of the world.

This is the same with a big dick man. He thinks “I’ve got a big cock, that should be enough.” And they think we should be thanking our lucky stars that we’re getting the long arm of the law laid on us. Then they’re off. Pounding away like a jackhammer through concrete. Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need some prep work. *knock on door* Let me introduce the Average dick man. The 5 and 6-incher…or less. They’re not huge and they know it. So they feel the need to throw in some extras to overcompensate. Many have mastered the art of cunnilingus. They can throw down like it’s a bucket of chicken. “Finger licking good!” I have experienced both of these men firsthand.

Now I’m not saying there aren’t exceptions to the rule on either side. Some guys could have big Ds and also be overall good lovers. And some Average Joes could be lazy in bed. Same with the “hot chick” and not so hot chick. But considering that “About 75% of all women never reach orgasm from intercourse alone – that is without the extra help of sex toys, hands or tongue. And 10-15% never climax under any circumstances”(ABCNews), it’s obvious that Big D more often than not, doesn’t really get the job done. Plus, I’ve heard quite a few women say that they can’t enjoy different positions with their Big Dick man. Let’s shed a tear for no Doggystyle or Reverse Cowgirl… 😥

So instead of judging a man so harshly on his lack of length, we might want to wait and see what other tricks he might have up his sleeve or shall I say mouth.

~Twyla

Disclaimer: I mean no offense to “hot chicks” or “chubby girls”. Everyone has their own definition of hot. I’m just going off of society’s messed up standards. As well as conversations and things I’ve experienced.

 

Is Anybody Else Tired of Beautiful People on Social Media?

I so badly want to post pics of exactly what I’m talking about, but I’m not a fan of singling out individuals to make fun of them, no matter who they are. But seriously, I can’t believe I’m about to say this… I really am so sick of beautiful people on social media!

I love looking at hot dudes as much as the next chick, but in all honesty, I’m getting so tired of men and women alike on Facebook and Instagram (I’m not on Twitter enough to notice there). It’s one thing if it’s your job. Like if you’re a model or an actor at a photo shoot. But I’m talking about the douches and douchettes that post selfies and videos clips of themselves doing “hot” things. I.e. a guy flexing while he gives sexy smirks and air-kisses to the camera, a girl contorting her body so that she can get her ass AND her face in the picture, all at the same time (how does one accomplish this?!), the guy at the gym, the girl that is STILL making the duckface when we all know it looks ridiculous, the guy dancing like a stripper while licking a strawberry, the girl twerking her luscious booty at the camera, and so on and so on.

I get it if you have a beauty blog or you’re some hot dude that’s making money off of how many likes you get while promoting products at the same time though it’s still obnoxious. I honestly believe it’s all in the way you pose and what you’re doing when you pose. There’s a guy on Facebook and Instagram that is gorgeous and he’s a model. I love the artistic photos of him taken professionally, but the videos and selfies he takes of himself are just too much and his followers glorify it. And you can even tell that he thinks it’s ridiculous because he gives this self-deprecating smile and embarrassed chuckle and adds to the post how he’s being “silly”. If you’re holding a fluffy puppy, hailing a cab, reading the paper or a book with no shirt on, or drinking your morning cup of joe, that’s cool. I just hate the blatant, “look at me, aren’t I hot?” poses. It’s obvious that you’re already hot. You know it. We know it. And we know you know it. So just stop with the overtly sexual pics, already!

Our society has become so utterly infatuated with looks that it borders on the disgusting. Scratch that! It’s surpassed disgusting.

I don’t give a flying fig how ridiculously gorgeous you are, if you’re not working with more than just a pretty outer shell, then you’re not gonna get very far with me or too many others.

I don’t know. I’m just a fan of the understated sexy. A simple look. A small secretive smile. A relaxed gait. Confidence in your own skin. Because regardless of what many people say, most people (not all) that post a billion selfies are not all that confident and are looking for likes to validate their attractiveness. Not because they don’t really think they’re attractive, but because they know it’s all they have.

Oh and I’m sure any of the people that I called out in this blog for their superficial behavior will just say, “Well you’re fat and mildly attractive, you’d be grateful to date someone like me.” To which I say, no matter how many skin creams you use, no matter how much plastic surgery you undergo, your beauty WILL fade. That is assured. What can you offer when it does? So how about you flex some knowledge while you’re flexing those biceps? Or twerk your way over to the library and read a book? An individual is always sexier when they have more to offer than just their looks.