Tag Archives: black women

International Lover?

23 Thursday Oct 2008

Posted by in Soundtrack of My Life

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A friend invited me out to a gathering put on by an interracial meetup group for White and Asian men interested in Black woman (and vice versa). Initially, I was somewhat open to the idea but the more I thought about it…not so much.

Black men are all I have ever known – the good, bad, and the oogly.  Even though I’m from the up the way, I’ve never even had a Latino Papi on the roster. Until recently, I never gave much consideration to dating outside my race. Since those pull out posters of Christopher Williams and Al. B Sure came off my walls, it has been all about the taste of dark chocolate. (Occasionally a piece of caramel sneaks his way in.) By and large, black men are the only ones that have caught my eye.

Now don’t get me wrong. Every once in a blue moon, Brad Pitt’s distant cousin might turn my head. But I’ve had problems hanging around white boys in the past so I usually smile and keep it moving.

In recent months,  I’ve decided that my old ass needs to make the transition from keeping a starting lineup with a couple coming off the bench in a pinch to having just one franchise player. However, to find the “one,” I know that I need to expand my horizons a bit and keep an open mind. My married friends and family members are always telling me that he may not show up in the package I expect. I’ve always had a vision of Mr. Vivrant as being a big ole brown man and of us bringing a couple of little brown Vivrants into the world to run around tearing up shit. However, it’s always been a foggy vision – such that it allows for the possibility of…something else. So I decided it was time for me to spread my wings a bit and consider becoming an international lover.

A couple of weeks ago, I went out with a Latin man from Bolivia. He was a cool guy – outgoing personality, smiled a lot, seemed comfortable in his skin, very well-traveled (which is always attractive to me). We had one of the best dates I’ve been on in a while.

 We ended up hitting two different spots. At the first place, we engaged in the getting to know you banter over margaritas and Spanish appetizers. I could tell he was digging me and I was having a nice time so we decided to continue the date in the Adams Morgan area of DC. He suggested the spot (major points for that). We ended up at a very cozy lounge with walls the color of the sunset and plush red couches. Turns out it was also a hookah bar. I’ve always been curious about smoking hookah so I didn’t hesitate to try it. Turns out I loved it.  More martinis flowed.  Conversation was good. I learned all about his country, his diverse group of friends and some of his dating experiences.

At some point while he was talking, I realized that I had been staring longingly over at the tall, chocolate loc’d man sitting alone writing and smoking hookah. I had the very strong urge to go over and ask him what he was writing. I also found myself glancing over at a black couple sitting across from us. At the time, I didn’t quite understand why. I was having a great time despite that fact that he was a bit too affectionate for my taste on a first date (although a friend reminded me I had been quite affectionate on first dates before – but that’s another post).

After some reflection, I realized that I just wasn’t that into him. He sensed that before I did and when we parted ways, I could tell that was the last time I would hear from him. And that was okay. But was it him or the whole idea of becoming an international lover? It was one thing for me to stare at the foine dude. I’m not dead. But the way I was staring at that couple kind of disturbed me.

I did have a great time on the date. It was a breath of fresh air in a sea of never-ending staleness. So likely I will saddle up and try to ride that horse again should the opportunity present itself. However, the experience made me wonder whether I’m truly “cut out” to be an international lover? Maybe this is one time it’s okay for me to be closed-minded.

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I Am Not My Hair

17 Wednesday Oct 2007

Posted by in Feeding The Music Jones

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Good hair means curls and waves/ Bad hair means you look like a slave
At the turn of the century/ Its time for us to redefine who we be
You can shave it off / Like a South African beauty
Or get in on lock / Like Bob Marley
You can rock it straight/ Like Oprah Winfrey
If its not what’s on your head/ Its what’s underneath

This is not the post I had in mind, but sometimes the best posts are not the ones you planned.

I was catching up on my blog reading today (I subscribe to WAY too many feeds because of my varied interests—the ones on the blogroll are just a sample of what I have in my Bloglines!) and saw an update on Afrobella’s fabulous blog about the Glamour Magazine incident. For those not familiar, a now former junior beauty editor at Glamour (which I don’t read) was giving a presentation at a law firm luncheon on the do’s and don’ts of corporate fashion. According to American Lawyer magazine, these were her “words of wisdom” :

First slide up: an African American woman sporting an Afro. A real no-no, announced the ‘Glamour’ editor to the 40 or so lawyers in the room. As for dreadlocks: How truly dreadful! The style maven said it was ‘shocking’ that some people still think it ‘appropriate’ to wear those hairstyles at the office. ‘No offense,’ she sniffed, but those ‘political’ hairstyles really have to go.

Oh to have been a fly on the wall and see the faces of the ten Black female lawyers in attendance.

It’s been causing quite a stir in the blogosphere for months, which you can read about here and here. Ask This Black Woman reports on the obligatory, canned apology she and other bloggers received in their inboxes from the powers that be at Glamour.

Like Afrobella, this story just makes me tired. I would like to hear exactly why it is so “shocking” that I would wear my natural hair at the office? I know that this way of “thinking” is certainly nothing new and not at all surprising. Our hair is and always will be cause for conversation and controversy.

This all made me think about my path to natural, which is still not complete! It happened by accident really. As a 80s kid, I used to rock the jheri curl and thought it was quite cute until about 7th grade when this kid came up to me and asked almost sympathetically,” Aren’t you tired of wearing a jheri curl?”

Little asshole.

So of course I pleaded with my mother to let me get my first perm and that would be the way I wore it for the next fifteen or so years. I had some variety in there: the asymmetrical Salt-n-Pepa; up-dos, bangs, finger waves, ponytails, pageboys, spiral curls. I let my cousin put in the occasional braids during the summer that I would leave in for a for a few months. However, for the most part, I was on that stop-scratching-a week-before-or-those-chemicals-will-burn-your-head up kick.

I was getting my hair done every week, spending hours of my life in the chair, under the dryer, waiting. Now my hair was fly. It was a nice auburn color, almost shoulder-length with layers cut in. It looked like….the 50-11 other females I encountered on a daily basis.

So about four or five years ago, I was going on vacation and planned to put braids in. I told my longtime hair dresser that I’d be back after I took the braids out. When I walked out of her shop, I had no idea that was the last time I’d step foot in there. I went to a hair show and saw a woman getting twists put in and fell in love. It was nothing new but it’s as if my eyes had been opened for the first time. I made an appointment at that shop and the rest is history. I never put another perm in and the same stylist I met at that shop, I still go to now, even though she works for herself.

There hasn’t been one day where I’ve missed having a perm. Why? My time is too valuable these days to spend it in the salon half the day. I go every three weeks to keep it maintained. I don’t have to worry about whether I’m going to come out with scabs in the back of my head from chemical burns. Something about that just ain’t right! And truthfully, I love the way my natural hair feels in my hands. It’s soft and beautiful…not “dreadful.”

I wear the twists because my hair still has not grown out to the fullness I would like so I can wear it big, wild and curly. I may have to face facts though–it may never grow anymore. It’s been a while– so this may be it! My stylist says that I may need to take the twists out and let it breathe. I’m considering that for the winter.

When I first did it, I did get the curious stares, particularly from my former supervisor. I could tell she didn’t like it. When we talked, her eyes would wander up. Ask me if I cared? I love it. I didn’t go natural to be political. I went natural in part because I was tired of the pain–of the chemicals and my wasted time! I wanted something different. It just feels right.

 

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*picture credit: Jezebel

I’ve been on the job market for a while and briefly considered whether my hair would affect my marketability. I quickly dismissed that thought. I’m not the least bit interested in working at any place of business that would consider how I wear my hair an issue, outside of the fact that I’m presentable for business purposes, which would never come into question. I’m far too liberal for that kind of environment.

Oh wait, I’m being too political.