I mentioned meeting a female student in Cape Coast who was my age and very cool in a past blog/journal entry. As I said we exchanged information, and sometime last week she e-mailed me. I was so excited. I felt like sometimes I would be giving my e-mail out in vain because even if there is Internet access available (which in the cities it pretty much is), I don't expect anyone to make e-mailing me top priority over living their day-to-day.
In any event though Maame e-mailed me. She reintroduced herself in the e-mail and hoped that I was well. I told her that I certainly had not forgotten her, asked what she had been up to, and gave her this blog address. She has not responded back yet. Hopefully, I will hear from her by the end of this week.
Another contact I made I began to e-mail shortly after my return. We e-mailed back and forth a few times, the usual 'how are yous.'
I have to admit, it's like elementary school. Pen pals were really big when I was in elementary school. The only thing that makes my e-mails even more exciting though, is that they are connected to real memories, real stories, and real people that have made an impression on my life.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
My Hair
I have heard it's chic and sophisticated, it's cute, it's sexy, but most of all, a simple why? Why did you cut your hair they say? Why any Black woman would want to stop perming and curling (which both amount to burning), or weaving and texturizing is beyond the imagination. Just call me Ms. E. Nigma with an afro.
In the world of natural hair land I do not have to worry about my hair *breaking off. I do wear a scarf at night still, but I don't really have to. I can do my hair in minutes. Oh, and unless I feel moved to get some particular style, I only have to get a haircut (no more than $11)! As a college student supporting myself through school, it all works out quite nicely. Sure, I could work extra hours to pay $60 a month to look like something God did not intend, but I would rather go out to eat with friends, or buy a new outfit. I mean I must be out of my mind.
I am not putting down all the beautiful women out there who get relaxers, but all the 'happy nappy' sisters out there, like myself, are just as beautiful. I mean who knows I might even go back to the *Dark and Lovely, but I am having too fun being different right now.
FYI
*For those of you reading this who might not know much about Black hair care, this simply means that your hair has been worn out and beat from lack of moisture coupled with too much treatment (chemical, heat, etc.) and has begun to fall out.
*Dark and Lovely is a brand of relaxer.
Also, for the record, I did not cut my hair because I was inspired by 'the motherland' to do so. I had decided long before I went to do this, and at a young age I knew I always would. (I had the most problems with my hair for a number of reasons.)
In the world of natural hair land I do not have to worry about my hair *breaking off. I do wear a scarf at night still, but I don't really have to. I can do my hair in minutes. Oh, and unless I feel moved to get some particular style, I only have to get a haircut (no more than $11)! As a college student supporting myself through school, it all works out quite nicely. Sure, I could work extra hours to pay $60 a month to look like something God did not intend, but I would rather go out to eat with friends, or buy a new outfit. I mean I must be out of my mind.
I am not putting down all the beautiful women out there who get relaxers, but all the 'happy nappy' sisters out there, like myself, are just as beautiful. I mean who knows I might even go back to the *Dark and Lovely, but I am having too fun being different right now.
FYI
*For those of you reading this who might not know much about Black hair care, this simply means that your hair has been worn out and beat from lack of moisture coupled with too much treatment (chemical, heat, etc.) and has begun to fall out.
*Dark and Lovely is a brand of relaxer.
Also, for the record, I did not cut my hair because I was inspired by 'the motherland' to do so. I had decided long before I went to do this, and at a young age I knew I always would. (I had the most problems with my hair for a number of reasons.)
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
I Look African?
A couple of weeks ago I attended Dawgs After Dark at the University of Georgia. As a fun-filled alternative to the drunken debauchery of downtown Athens, Dawgs After Dark's biggest draw is the free food. I am not on the UGA meal plan, so free food was certainly a good enough incentive for me to go. I also knew I would be able to see and catch up with a number of my classmates, which I thought would be nice, (but little did I know).
The fact of the matter is that most people don't change like the seasons. They may have moods, situations, or episodes, but day after day most people will stand on certain beliefs and ideas. I discovered that many of my classmates are not particularly exceptional in this case.
On my way to the custom hat making booth, I spotted two guys that I was cool with back in the dorm days. They were making up a beat and some goofy rhymes. As I walked over to say hello I was not greeted with a 'how was your summer?' Instead, the two commented on how I had lost weight (unfortunately in a certain area). (I had lost weight, but I am still quite proportional.) Before I could counter with a witty response, one of the guys started repeatedly saying that I look African. I was shocked at his boldness and his ignorance. Before I completely lost my composure and made a scene, I walked away.
I should not have been so shocked, because that guy has been just as out of touch and immature since freshman year. I should not have walked away either. Although, at the time I was at a loss for the right words. I did not fire back and tell him that the women are amazingly beautiful with their dark skin and full figures, which at 125 lbs I do not have. Nor did I tell him that they wear their hair in long hair weaves, micros, relaxed, wrapped in scarves, and any other way imaginable, much like the Black women here. In fact, what he meant to say, with my small frame and afro, is that I looked like an African secondary school girl bright eyed about the future, minus the fresh pressed uniform.
The comment made by my classmate was no insult, but in reality a compliment beyond belief. In my heart I knew this, but his tone carried all of the negative conatations that many Black Americans put on their own heritage, simply because we do not know, and in my offense I was unable to quickly correct him.
I thought about his comment on the ride home. I thought about how lovely the people in Ghana were inside and out. I thought about the disconnect that would cause someone to hurl 'You look African' as an insult. Why are African-Americans still made to believe that Africa is one giant jungle? Even in the most 'primitive' of times, Africans developed irrigation systems and built rich empires. I discovered that we come from kings and queen mothers. The resources that abound on the African continent are undeniable. Yet and still many Black Americans have cut the ties and stopped searching for the truth. They voluntarily live in the land of the free- free of our history and truth.
To clarify, I am not bashing my race or pointing a finger at 'The Man.' I am merely commenting on the fact that after hundreds of years of denial (of education, opportunities, etc.) some of us are still afraid of Sankofa, which means 'go and fetch it, looking back to the past,' in the Adinkra symbols of West Africa. You can not have unity without self-respect, and there is much love left to be desired amongst us Black Americans. It is way past due.
The fact of the matter is that most people don't change like the seasons. They may have moods, situations, or episodes, but day after day most people will stand on certain beliefs and ideas. I discovered that many of my classmates are not particularly exceptional in this case.
On my way to the custom hat making booth, I spotted two guys that I was cool with back in the dorm days. They were making up a beat and some goofy rhymes. As I walked over to say hello I was not greeted with a 'how was your summer?' Instead, the two commented on how I had lost weight (unfortunately in a certain area). (I had lost weight, but I am still quite proportional.) Before I could counter with a witty response, one of the guys started repeatedly saying that I look African. I was shocked at his boldness and his ignorance. Before I completely lost my composure and made a scene, I walked away.
I should not have been so shocked, because that guy has been just as out of touch and immature since freshman year. I should not have walked away either. Although, at the time I was at a loss for the right words. I did not fire back and tell him that the women are amazingly beautiful with their dark skin and full figures, which at 125 lbs I do not have. Nor did I tell him that they wear their hair in long hair weaves, micros, relaxed, wrapped in scarves, and any other way imaginable, much like the Black women here. In fact, what he meant to say, with my small frame and afro, is that I looked like an African secondary school girl bright eyed about the future, minus the fresh pressed uniform.
The comment made by my classmate was no insult, but in reality a compliment beyond belief. In my heart I knew this, but his tone carried all of the negative conatations that many Black Americans put on their own heritage, simply because we do not know, and in my offense I was unable to quickly correct him.
I thought about his comment on the ride home. I thought about how lovely the people in Ghana were inside and out. I thought about the disconnect that would cause someone to hurl 'You look African' as an insult. Why are African-Americans still made to believe that Africa is one giant jungle? Even in the most 'primitive' of times, Africans developed irrigation systems and built rich empires. I discovered that we come from kings and queen mothers. The resources that abound on the African continent are undeniable. Yet and still many Black Americans have cut the ties and stopped searching for the truth. They voluntarily live in the land of the free- free of our history and truth.
To clarify, I am not bashing my race or pointing a finger at 'The Man.' I am merely commenting on the fact that after hundreds of years of denial (of education, opportunities, etc.) some of us are still afraid of Sankofa, which means 'go and fetch it, looking back to the past,' in the Adinkra symbols of West Africa. You can not have unity without self-respect, and there is much love left to be desired amongst us Black Americans. It is way past due.
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