In The Eyes of the Beholder

Now it’s my turn to weigh in (excuse the pun) on the Gabourey Sidibe controversy (Cue Prince).

When I initially thought about writing about this post I was going to take this whole approach of Black is Beautiful and mainstream American doesn’t understand that beauty comes in all forms. Especially after my friend told me that Acai Berry offered Gabby a good workout plan using their product. Of course a lucrative deal to be their spokes person would come after. Can you imagine how many gastric bypass contemplating, send me to boot camp please, subway sandwich eating, help me do it Oprah folks would be clamoring to use Acai Berry? Kiss the intern who brainstormed that idea, we’ve all seen Gabby’s before shot, and thought wow!

And Howard Stern’s comments got me to thinking about the well meaning-ness of several white folk. Well meaning-along the lines of enslaving people around the world to bring Christianity to the heathen. That turned out great didn’t it? It’s not like Christianity should be introduced to others and it’s not like we don’t know that Gabby is a big girl. I think most of us who saw her outside of her role in Precious thought “wow” that wasn’t a suit. I know I had these thoughts, as a chick who orders $5 footlongs sans the mayo and thought about enlisting in the service to shed some pounds.

But the rub has got me two ways. The first is the assumption that Gabby isn’t happy. Who can say that other than her? And the second is the assumption that Gabby’s self confidence and esteem somehow overrides everything the medical world has told us about health. I guess I don’t like how all of this has gotten tangled and twisted together to equal that Gabby is fat and therefore she is unhappy and unhealthy. I think the latter is definitely true…but the first remains to be seen in Ms. Sidibe’s autobiography. I am sick of mainstream American spectulating on Gabby’s outlook on life and then justifying their often cruel and rude statements on the fact that they are concerned for her health. Pish posh-and the civil war was about freeing the slaves right?

Maybe I am going out on this limb alone, but in the formative years it’s pretty hard for a little Black girl to feel beautiful in America. I know that it bothered me when the white girls in my class would comment on how cute the little braids and animal barrettes in my hair where. And even though their statements where complimentary, it was how they said it, or the fact that they even needed to say it that bothered me. And so I wonder how these uncomplimentary comments will affect Gabby.

I want her to feel good about herself, think she’s beautiful, be excited about her success. But I also want her to be healthy too. Now if only mainstream America could learn how to express the same concern without killing her esteem in the process.


See You In Seven

Yes, Women of Color Do Age Well

Excuse me ladies, I need visit the restroom.

Oh I'll come with...

Me too.

You know I don't like going to the restroom anymore,

can't stand looking in the mirror...

I hear you.

What?!

I can't see how old I am getting in my face.

You kidding me right?

Oh be quiet...you are going to look 45 when you are 90!

Never really thought about it before but yes, women of color do age well. Maybe now that I am approaching that age where I don't look like a teen anymore and my friends of other races are seeing the signs of age creep up on their faces...I starting to take notice.

While I was on vacation, a lady I swear was in her late forties turned out to be in her early seventies with grandkids older than me. Reading the latest issue of Essence article on Valerie Jarrett, she is 52...get out of here!

Then I am sorry, this last one took the cake for me...Michelle O pics at her highschool prom. WOW!

I hope to age like this!

Much luv until next week...peace:)

michelle, ma belle

Since November 4th folks (read: Black folks) have been talking bout, "Well, now that Obama is president...[fill in your random request here]." Most of these requests are a little far fetched but I came across one that may actually have some merit. The other day while chatting with one of my co-workers, she hoped that with the O-man in office, Black men would follow in his footsteps and get themselves a Michelle! And being the perceptive Black educated woman that I am, I immediately knew exactly what she meant.

See Barack could have done the Harold Ford and came off less threatening. Or he could have gotten himself a lady who lunches. Someone who looked good on his arm but served no real purpose beyond political eye candy. But it seems, as with all things in his life, he was thinking ahead, like I-wanna-be-president-of-this-motha ahead. Barack is a man of great strategery, if you will. He wrote books about himself and his thoughts on America when no one really knew who the hell he was. He picked a city that he had absolutely no ties to, moved to one of its poorest neighborhoods, joined one of the most influential churches in that area and became a community organizer when he coulda been Chief Lottsadough. This was no accident. He wanted authenticity. He wanted to become a Chicagoan coming from the south, the south, the south side of the Chi!

But he didn't stop there. He chose Michelle. Slave stock from South Cakalak Michelle. South-side born and bred Michelle. There is no denying it. Michelle is all the way Black, with thick shiny Black hair, long elegant limbs, piercing eyes, strong cheekbones and much junk in her trunk. Michelle is strikingly Black. She might not be the most beautiful woman (to some) but I guarantee that when she walks into a room, all eyes on her!

To be sure, Barack loves him some Michelle and the weeMichelles. Cause he loves whatever he commits himself to, whether it be a woman, a job, this country. But the beauty of the thing is that she (and any Black woman of her kind) is the perfect compliment to him (or any ambitious Black man). She upgrades him. She's an equal who will play her part but still let him take the lead role, believe me. Michelle challenges him (see: Barbara Walters) when she thinks that he’s wrong, but hits him with the terrorist fist jab when homeboy is doin' the damn thang. And she’s super smart and can provide him with some strategery of her own during their late night pillow talk. She is a co-mate and co-pilot. Down for the cause, but the cause better be a well-thought-out, exquisitely-executed, I'm-only-doin'-this-on-time-negro cause. Reliable, dependable, sweet and sassy. Ok, I'll stop for I could go on and on because I heart Michelle.

So that’s why Black men need to get them some Michelle in they life. Most striving Black men go for the easy or should I say a fair amount, approaching many but don't want to generalize, ambitious men go for a woman who they are not threatened or intimidated by (read: young and slightly dumb). They want the woman who will sit back and shut the fuck up. Who they can tell what to do and she will say baby I already did it without and independent thought as to whether it should have been done. Who won’t challenge them or make them think outside the box. To each his own I guess but from a productivity prospective, this is not a good look.

It's like when a woman decides to stay home and watch the kids. Aint nothing wrong with that but the family unit then loses 50% of its potential income. Or mayhap everybody doesn't want an equal. Maybe men are scared or threatened by a Michelle. I would not begin to presume to know what men think or want. I'ma just over here being me. But maybe the real life Michelle, as she glows as first lady before our eyes will teach these brothas a thing or two. Cause you know every Black man in America loves them some Barack. Tap on any Black man's iphone and see what wallpaper he has sitting there. Ask a random Black man on the street where he’ll be on January 20^th. Exactly!

For wanna-be Michelle's like me, let's hope they are dissecting his choice of a mate as well. And let's hope that they see that for all of Michelle’s strength, for all that she challenges and equals Barack, look at the way she supports him. How ride or die she is. How she pushes him to excellence and always brings her A game to the table. How she may not be light skin with long hair but homegirl is fierce! And maybe they’ll think outside the box as well.

Yes you can, my brotha, yes you can!

Christian Lacroix sketch for Michelle Obama

Photo by Courtesy Photo

The Fairest One of All

The other day I had brunch with a friend, and for the sake of story I’ll just call him Buddy. Buddy and I get together from time to time to catch up and reminisce about our past lives. Buddy is a friend I acquired a couple of years ago in adulthood through a series of random events that didn’t include a class project, a social networking event, or a church group. Buddy and I met in the trenches of a call center part time hustle, and while soliciting the opinions of good old Americans, we bonded over books and twenty-something brokeness.

So anyway, we are eating and having a time that’s good, when he updates me on the plight of his best friend who has recently experienced a devastating breakup. Her former dude has caused her to go all “Crazy Chick” because he essentially broke up with her without rhyme or reason. And in her breakup grief she has been on suicide watch. In anger has driven, with a female friend in tow, to his job…all without resolution to their three year relationship. Buddy then explained that now she is convinced that there is something wrong with her, and therefore there is something that she needs to change. And no, she isn’t thinking of the let this all go and let God variety… More like the “Doctor, more tits and ass please. And could you also throw in some lypo for good measure?”

Oh no! Hell Naw!

I said Buddy, did you tell her ain’t no nigga worth that?! He nodded, then shrugged. Because really what could he say, she’s already decided that is her solution. *Sigh* But the whole thing got me thinking about plastic surgery and how the idea has crossed my mind as a solution, but the outcome weighted against the needless risk I pretty have decided I'm not trying to undergo surgery just cause.

Looking back at childhood photographs I can say that I was one funny looking kid! I am so thankful for time and new gene expression because things weren’t looking so good for the home team! My older male cousin once told me that when comparing me to my other female cousins, he and my grandma (that mean old lady) had concluded that it was a good thing that I was at least smart. And that conversation led me down the rabbit hole of recollection where I don’t ever remember my parents fawning over my looks or even saying that I was beautiful. My father, and extremely intelligent man, told me that he believed that I was much smarter that he…and I remember being extremely pleased with that.

And so I don’t know what the lack of praise in my youth has done for my outlook on all things vain. It stands to reason that I should have a complex of some sort. But I will say that as my hair grew, and the braces came off, and the breasts grew bigger than my belly it was a pleasant shock as the old ladies started to say I was looking more and more like my mother, and less and less like my father. Thank the Lawd! For real ya'll!

But I’m aware that my outcome could have been different and my transition from a funny looking kid could have been to that of an ugly woman. And as a woman it’s difficult to exist in America if you don’t think you are beautiful. A few years ago I remember MTV had a show that allowed youngsters to undergo plastic surgery to look like their favorite pop culture idol. And I often wanted to know if they thought it was worth the pain and the risk, and how they feel about their decision today?

I think about what Buddy’s friend will do when ole boy still doesn’t want her or even to give her a reason to why they didn’t work out. What then? When I’m not looking in the mirror I feel like I’m pretty much the same smart little Amaretto who enjoys reading and puppies. And of course there is plenty of room for improvement but as cliché as it sounds, I am really of the thinking that it’s what folks got on the inside that's beautiful, and so therefore I am.

See You In Seven

That Good Hair Girl

When it comes to women there are a few rules all must follow.

Rule #1: Never ever ask a woman her weight. Unless you’re always guessing 95 pounds, whatever number you chose (even if you are dead on) will be too much.
Rule #2: Never ever ask a woman if she’s PMSing. If she isn’t, she just might start because of your stupidity! Besides, it’s not something that we can control anyway.
Rule #3: Never ever ask a woman her age. Except for Mr. Robert Kelly, who should always always ask!

But when it comes to Black women there are a whole extra set of golden rules that addresses our hair.
Rule #1: Don’t ever ask if it’s ours. Of course it is!
Rule #2: Don’t touch it! Hair touching is by invite only!
Rule #3: Don’t get it wet! Unless you want to see us turn into gremlins, keep the water away!

Our hair is a very big deal! There is a billion dollar industry devoted to making us hair happy. Whether relaxed, pressed or natural we are willing to spend a couple hours and dollars to get our hair done just right. And after our do is done, we are even willing to sacrifice comfortable sleep to ensure our style remains intact.

Somewhere in our childhoods we learned the difference between nappy hair and “good” hair. If your braids were long and laid flat you had good hair. If yours were short and sometimes one stood up in the air, well you didn’t have the good stuff. If your hair was shiny and silky thanks to a white great-great-grandfather or some Cherokee relative it was good. But if your hair wasn’t manageable or only shined with the help of blue magic hair grease, a hot comb and a brush, well no one was envious of what you had. And as little girls looking for validation of the beauty we saw in our mothers and grandmothers in the magazines we read or even in the mainstream we saw little to none. And it was hard not to believe that having good hair made you beautiful…

But thankfully times have changed, and so have our standards of beauty.

Currently I’m in pursuit of some good hair. But good hair for me is now something that is strong and healthy. For seven years I have been flirting with the decision to go natural. Second to the notion that my hair will be healthier for it, I’m really curious to see how I am going to look. This has been a very frustrating process ya’ll! And if I wasn’t a patient person before, this journey has made me even less patient!

Knowing that I couldn’t pull off a TWA I opted for braids during this period of growth. As the stylist tugged and pulled every strand of my hair with synthetic I realized that I was going to look totally different. And I began to get nervous because I wondered about my white co-workers reactions to my transformation. Sure I had had braids before, but I was in high school or at a job that wasn’t in a professional setting. The Senegalese Twists I opted for were a compete protest against the conformed Anglo office look and I worried if my actions would be viewed as rebellion. If these coworkers would wonder what happened to their good little Amaretto. And for an entire weekend I began to regret finally making a decision to go natural.

Well Black Woman hair rules 1 and 2 were violated that Monday. Oh, the questions! Lawd, there is such a thing as a stupid question. And I heard them all that Monday. They wanted to know who had done it, how long had it taken, did it hurt. Personal stories about seeing black women with braids on the street and them wondering about them were shared. It was like my hair decision had made it okay for them to ask me what they always wanted to know. Or share that they wish they could do that with their hair (insert eye roll here). The whole ordeal makes me wonder how they’ll react to the actual afro that’s growing beneath.

I forgot black woman hair Rule #4: Never ever criticize it! After all we’re sensitive about our sh*t!

Whether our hair is relaxed straight, laid in locks or a strong afro puff our hair is a crowning jewel many have refused to see as beautiful. And the new standard of beauty proves that we all got good hair.

See You in Seven