1.This necklace/bracelet/hairband. It's malleable, so you can be as creative as you dream. I bought two and gave one to my sister. I am sure they sell them many places but I got mine from francesca's collections.It was $15, which I didn't mind droppin. I figure if anything, it's a nice conversation piece (it already has been).
2. This awesome robe from anthropologie. I can't take credit for picking it out- it was a gift. I wore it all morning today while I did my laundry. C'est l'amour!
3. This clutch, which is also a shoulder bag. I also snagged this from francesca's collections. It was a little pricier than I like to pay ($38) but so far I've used it incessantly. I'm absolutely in love with the pattern. so purdy.
a break from teaching means plenty of time to play. Since Solange has done the big chop, I have to say she's been flyer than fly. Today, I am inspired by her headscarves.
Solange in Paris (via http://blog.franchesca.net/)
I went on youtube and found this simple headwrap tutorial. Fast forward 1:45 to cut to the chase.
And...here is how mines came out! Give it a try. My scarf was a little thinner than the tutorial, so I had to wrap it around more. Be creative; sometimes a mistake looks intentional. And, it's another way to rock that protective style while looking flyer than fly ;)
Ok. So I've been in the kitchen again, experimenting with oils and such to determine the best conditioning regimin for winter. Because I am semi-free forming my locs (only re-twisting the back of my head every 2 months or so), I need really wonderful protective styles, something to keep my hair up and away, protected from the winter air.
Pictured here are three-week old pipe cleaner curls. These are actually a great protective style as well.
But... as you can see, I haven't re-twisted in months, so it's about that time.
1. clean that scalp. I'll do a deep Apple Cider Vinegar Rinse in a few months or so for a deep cleanse, but for now, I just scratch some of this into my scalp. love this shampoo, but really any shampoo will do. love a good tingle though.
2. deep condition. this is my latest obsession. and, it's cheap too! 3.49 ain't bad.
3. I cover my head in a shower cap. My locs are too big for the shower cap I have, so I had to get inventive. A shopping bag will do ;). I kick back and relax, leaving it in for 15-20 minutes.
4. time for re-twist!
5. as I re-twist, I plait the hair...
6. and voila! I take all of the plaits and pin them up. It took me about 4 bobby pins and a sloppy basket weave.
Ok so time to review my holiday creations. muahahaha! see my post on DIY Holiday Fun for deets on ingredients and steps. shouts to urbanbushbabes.com for the recipes!
1. DIY Sugar Scrub
Pros: easy to make; simple ingredients; easy clean up
Cons: no real fragrance to it, which may be a pro for many, but it kinda smells like grocery-store sugar.
Suggestions if you try: I added sweet almond oil for smell
Cons: a bit sticky- only use in the wash or if you have a little extra time to get a little messy
Suggestions if you try:
buy a good moisturizer! It works best if applied immediately afterward.
I also took a trip to the container store at the cherry hill mall. You don't have to do this, but find a container that allows easy access. I opted for a push-down spout.
3. Shealoe Butter Pros: great to use on feet at night (with some socks of course); great for scalp, especially after shower.
Cons: white chunks may appear in the hair, so use sparingly. a bit greasy for full-body coverage. I would use it lightly.
Suggestions if you try:
for final presentation, use a metal spoon to stir into a large crumble. zit's flat surface can be a little annoying for application. I followed the recipe, but also took creative license with the ratios. Have fun!
Naming has always been, among many other things, about power.
I remember watching Roots, reluctantly under my parents' rule. I remember Kunta, notoriously holding onto all he had left, his name, refusing to accept "Toby" as his new label, as his fate.
Malcolm and Martin both changed their own names in response to cultural influences to political affect. Add to the list: Nina Simone, Alicia Keys, Ocho Cinco, bell hooks, Mark Twain, Harriet Jacobs...
The act of naming illustrates a power dynamic and a political act: one between the namer and the named and the other, in the act itself. As long as I've been alive I've known this concept as it works personally and as it relates to the collective. From Negro to Black to African American to colored to black to afro-american and everything else in between, we've seen how naming is laced in political detritus and personal vernaculars. We've seen how politically correctness infiltrates even the most sincere conversations turning it into a tip-toe shuffle. And, we've seen how inappropriate and ill-informed naming reveals ignorance and insensitivity.
But how do these power dynamics play out? What happens when we name ourselves? Do we exert an authority, an authorship in our identity formation? What type of power does one exert by naming another? Parents certainly hold a unique ownership over their children, which partially manifests itself in this responsibity of naming the child. Similarly, when we reject our given name, naming ourselves, we engage in an assertion of power and subsequently voice.
But, what happens when those doing the naming do not know the namee personally? What happens when one group prescribes a hurtful name, which they view endearing, to a another group? Complicated further, what happens when the group giving the name does so from a traditional place of power or a place of privilege, giving the named no say?
An article I read recently on urbanbushbabes.com raised these and many other questions for me. you know how I get.
the article didn't anger me, as it seemed to want, but it definitely raised some interesting ideas.
When do we sing our little song about sticks and stones and when do the words people call us need to be put in check?
read:
So... this is the first Christmas that I am not scrambling for money. Ironically, this is the first Christmas that I have the clarity of mind to make my own gifts. So, the women in my life, myself included, are getting a few quality handmade gifts.
Here are some DIY gift ideas - or gifts for yourself...yay!
a fabulous website for people who: glean inspiration from aesthetics and love looking in really really stylish people's closets. Bold looks, fearless fashions.
food recipes, natural hair recipes, fashion and hair gallery inspiration, two dope chicks who find the cool stuff for you. If you wish you could afford places like Anthropology because you love everything in it, this is the site for you.
i have to say i've been too busy for my own britches. it's a fine balance between purposeful churning of the wheels, propelling toward goals and such, and mindless, senseless churning of wheels, hamstering to nowhere.
some of the moments we have in life take a bit of time to process. it is once we come up for air that we realize how far we've come. we look back at the shore and say, damn, I didn't realize my strokes were amounting to anything, let alone heaving me forward. grading my students' work and watching them improve give me these momentary breaths of air.
a recent encounter with mr. dais, a substitute teacher who fills my shoes entirely when i have to miss a day, not only gave me a breath of air, but a moment to realize i am present. in my absence, he noted a few books i keep on my desk. one of which that is my lifeline: writing down the bones by natalie goldberg. i've read it several times, and each time glean new insight. she is my inspiration and makes me realize this writing thing is not a black hole. she allows me to settle deep inside and outside of myself. her words invigorate and remind me that this writing thing is okay to do, even on days when i hate myself for doing it. excited at the prospect of encountering someone who loves this thing just as i do, i gave him the book. shit, i've read it at least three times. needless to say, i immediately went to the internet to order another. a fresh new hardcover now sits on my desk.
i am grateful for people like natalie and mr. dais for keeping me honest.
I've decided to steal *camille*yanair's* thiry days of gratitude.
Yesterday, at the top of the page in my wrinkled marble notebook, I wrote: "I have to remember to be thankful. I have to remember to be present."
it's just so fundamentally crucial
I am a few days behind, so bare with me s'il vous plait.
grateful for:
1. friends that put up with my nonsense
2. autumn leaves and breezes
3. my very own classroom
4. forgiveness
5. family - in any shape
6. a clean bill o health
7. the prospect of a long gratitude list
Just washed and re-twisted. I can't wait to show the pictures of my journey- so far it's been a year and some change. No, I don't count down to the day like some of my fellow dread heads, but a year and some change is good enough.
I've stumbled upon a quick and easy way to get a nice, tousled daytime look. If I can do it- you can do it! Low maintenance is the reason I started locs.
3 Easy Steps + A Few Simple Ingredients: You will need:
3 strong hair ties, a spray bottle with water and olive oil (mix in about a tablespoon of olive oil and fill the bottle about halfway with warm h2o), and Carol's Daughter Tui Hair oil (optional)
Step 1: Spritz hair lightly with olive oil water mixture *i like to rub some Carol's Daughter Tui into my locs for a fresh smell and for a little extra conditioning
Step 2: Section hair into 3s
Step 3: Coil hair in a tiny bun or knot, then place hair tie over it, and...
Voila!
i throw a scarf around this bad boy and call it a night. p.s. i would def rock this as a daytime style too!
in the morning, I take them down, and I have an easy, tousled look:
I have always been a VH1, MTV, BET, junkie. I used to get my fix from programs like MTV Diary, VH1 storytellers, and Rap City, whose basement freestyles with Big Tigger always gave my inspiration fodder. I craved anything that could give more insight into the process behind the product. I imagined myself backstage with the artists, holding my tape recorder to their stories, dreaming of myself on Oprah. She'd ask me to recount my rendezvous with Mariah at the Ritz, and marvel at our chummy connection marked by our laughs and lip-stick covered glasses of Moet. Then, she'd introduce me as the writer who's able to capture the artists' energy and emotion unlike any other writer. So when, Toure, a music journalist, novelist, tv personality, and essayist, someone who I've admired since my high school days for his similar background and upbringing, came out with his new book, I indulged, and was rejuvenated in new ways.
The book, Who's Afraid of Post-Blackness: What it Means to Be Black Now is a necessary and relevant addition to the conversation on identity formation for Black Americans. Just as Toni Morrison notes the complexity of race as it pertains the Black writer in her essay "Home", Toure notes the complexity of race as it pertains to Blacks in this post-civil rights, Obama era. While Morrison pushes to create a space where we can articulate race free from "deceit, blindness, ignorance, paralysis, and sheer malevolence," so that "different types of perception [are] not only available but [...] inevitable," Toure offers the notion that Blacks must exist beyond previous boxed definitions. So long to the idea that Blacks can't speak articulately and grow up in the hood. Goodbye to the idea that authentic Black means loud, violent, and drug dealer. I'm happy for this book because it screams out: Blacks are a heterogeneous, diverse group. As Henry Gates Jr. insists, if there are 40 million Blacks, then there are 40 million ways to be Black. Similarly, the artist William Pope adds,"'Blackness is limited only by the courage to imagine it differently.'" In the book's dedication, Toure pulls at my most sensitive and internalized experiences by dedicating "it to everyone who was ever made to feel 'not Black enough.' Whatever that means."
Thanks Toure; I enjoyed every bit of it.
Here, he reads excerpts and chats it up on Media Beat:
Keeping the conversation going is one of my role models, and I'm sure one for many others, Tracee Ellis. Through her character, she begins the conversation with her daughter about the ramifications of getting that first relaxer.
As of late, I’ve wrestled a great deal with my writing. Of course I continue to do it everyday, but the focus, the joy, the diligence, is not as consistent as I'd like it to be. I’m
blaming this block on self censorship due to the fear of failure. As a response to my
block, or apprehension more aptly, I decided to rummage through my library, but after careful perusing, I could only find faces I've already read, the faces I've memorized and recited too readily before. So, naturally, I hopped in the Jetta and cruised route 4 to b&n for a fresh jolt. Welcome my three new additions: Narrative of Sojourner Truth, The Heart of a Woman, and remembered rapture. I’ve decided that step one in unblocking the writing must include burying my face into the words of female writers before me. This will not only give me something I've been craving, but reveal a necessary network, a family.
Bell hooks’s book of
essays, remembered rapture, offers frightening,
but bolstering familiarity and a touchstone that not only validates my
apprehension, but also elucidates my sentiments by articulating her own so
cleanly. Her words tickle me, giving me
the same giddiness that started me writing years ago, the same jollity that
threw me to the floor in my room as a little girl, stomach pressed to the
carpet, urging me to tell my journal all of my crazy ideas, even if no one cared to read them.
Refusing to let this block own me, I’ve found release in
hooks’s prose. In her first essay,
“writing from the darkness,” she opens with an anecdote from childhood.
Recounting the words her granddaddy shoed upon her as she made her way to the
outhouse before bedtime, passing through the darkness, she writes, “‘there is light in the darkness, you just have
to find it’” (3). His advice resonates. The
oxymoronic phraseology reminds me again that the act of writing is fluid, shape
shifting inside and outside bounds of what we think we know. It floats, almost weightlessly
between the realms of imagination and critique. My own process is swimming
fervently against the current, pulling away from the critic, so I can get
something down on the paper.
Perhaps the second step in unclogging my block is an attention to space. Maybe if I
spruce up the place, I thought to myself, I can get the ideas flowing, clear the air and make room
for creative energy. Hundreds of dollars and two trips to Ikea later, I’ve a
new space. Together, my imaginative and critical self carved a space where the
three of us can co-exist. Perhaps, the critic can lounge in the new, cubed bookcase,
while the imagination explores the autumnal afternoon sunlight, and I can
write. Seems to have done the trick, at least for now.
With a little advice from the experts and a rejuvenation of
space, I’ve words to paper.
