What's the Matter Mary Jane?

BET just aired a shockingly thoughtful and engaging beginning to a dramatic/comedic series. Being Mary Jane stars Gabrielle Union (who I've loved for years) and bears the markers of Mara Brock Akil (who worked behind the scenes of Girlfriends, among other shows). It's witty and energized.

But . . .

I really wish that it didn't begin with that squirly (and dubiously conceived) statistic about black women and marriage.

Still . . .

Being Mary Jane is really enjoyable.

Not suspicious

I wanted to share this perspective from NPR on the horrendous Trayvon Martin killing. It is one of many salient, reflective, and sorrowful commentaries by a wonderful writer.


http://www.npr.org/2012/03/20/149003647/trayvon-martin-the-lingering-memories-of-dead-boys

And because it apparently needs to be said: My son is beautiful and funny and bright and brown. And NOT SUSPICIOUS.

In Hair News

Twice recently black hair has shown up unexpectedly on television in interesting ways.

First, on "Reed Between the Lines" Traci Ellis-Ross and her head full of curlies tried to teach her TV daughter a lesson when the daughter straightens her hair. Initially, the straightening is about a role in a play; they give her a knotty wig to wear that looks terrible, so she decides to flat-iron her own hair instead of wearing the wig because the character is supposed to have long, flowing hair. But when her crush sees her and compliments her, she decides that she should wear it straight all the time. Ellis-Ross finds the daughter just before she applies a home relaxer and tries to get her to see the error of changing something she likes about herself in the name of pleasing some guy. Then a rather "Cosby Show"-esque skit ensues when both parents pretend to be a 1950s-ish June Cleaver, man-pleasing couple. The daughter's crush is over for dinner and seems to think this kind of man-catering is a great idea, at which point Malcolm Jamal Warner (just realized that these people have a lot of names--Anna Maria Horsford is on the show, too!) takes him into the kitchen to correct his ideas about gender. Eventually, the daughter just decides that she likes her hair and starts wearing it curly again, telling crush boy to like it or leave it. It was a surprising way to engage black women and hair. Hmmmm.

The second instance was even more surprising. Olivia on "The Waltons" (which my family has renamed "Mommy's favorite show!) is bent on making a change in her mundane, routined life. She settles on changing her hair and gets hooked up to one of those hair-curling monstrosities that you only see in books--with a thousand hooks and cords that descend from the ceiling and look like they would rip every hair out one-by-one. Unfortunately, she hates the permanent wave that results and her whole family laughs at her. So she goes over to Birdie's house because she's heard that her people know how to straighten curly hair. Well, Birdie laughs at her, too, and tells her that the women in her family don't know nothing 'bout straightening no hair because they've always worn it natural. I was pleased at the shout out for natural hair, even in the 1920s, and kind of glad that the one black person on Walton's mountain didn't end up, in this instance, simply serving the random needs of this family. But it was also kind of funny to me that Olivia seemed so desperate to learn the mysterious ways of black folks' hair.

As usual, I don't really have a take on these moments, but it's interesting to me that black women's hair is so pervasive an issue that it finds its way into stories all over the place.

New Things

So, I'm at a turning point in my hair transition. I finally took out the kinky twists, so that now the only thing on my head is the hair that grows out of it, unchanged. I washed and conditioned it, then looked in the mirror.

It was jarring, this knotted/knotting puff with no definition.

I went to the stylist who has been helping me transition and she put in two strand twists. But . . . they are small and tight and close to my head. I'm having a hard time with it. I think I'm going to take them down and try a couple of the styles that I keep seeing on the (many) hair blogs that I've been lurking around for months. So, wish me good hair days. Please.

On a semi-related note, I'm two classes into swim lessons. Having my hair exist without the chemicals makes getting in the pool easier and I'm excited, if nervous. It's kind of hard to make my body do these unfamiliar tasks, just like it's proving difficult to fully make this paradigm shift about my hair. Two important observations: perhaps "dead man's float" isn't the best choice for teaching beginning swimmers--hello!; the teacher told me in the first class that I, like she, have a dense body type that makes it harder to float. Where was this information when I was a child, thinking that something was deficient and weird about my body that kept me from being able to swim?! And one more thing: I know I'm not supposed to swallow the pool water, but it happens. What I want to know is why I can taste it in the back of my throat all flippin' day?

Don't Mess With the Hair

There seems to be a lot going on with Black women's hair this week.

First, there is Justin Bieber and his lack of education about indiscriminate touching. He reaches out to touch Esperanza Spaulding's hair during an interview with her. This is a bad move. As I am continuing my own hair evolution (I'm rocking kinky twists now) I can attest that most Black women I know--and actually, some Latina women I know as well--do not appreciate when white people, especially men, touch our hair. That goes double when they don't even ask. It feels like petting. A dog. I often wonder why the thought even arises. Is it because my hair's just so "weird" or what? What will touching it tell you?

Then there was Iyanla Vanzant's return to "The Oprah Winfrey Show" after her abrupt departure 11 years ago. One of the most intriguing revelations to me was that Barbara Walter's folks immediately demanded a change to Iylana's ethnic hair styles (and her clothes) when they produced Iyanla's show. "It's too harsh for TV" they told her. Of course, it had not been too harsh for the months and months when Iyanla was turning into a star on Oprah's show. So she let them straighten it in order to curl it. Even Iyanla admitted that this was a foolish move.

Then there's this weirdness about Beyonce Knowles, who is being accused again of lightening up. I can't attest to its validity, but it's disturbing.

I'm not sure I even have a comment about all of this, but I think it's all worth a second thought.

Linkage--Raising a woman

I was planning a post in my head today about how, when I asked The Babydoll today what job she wanted to have when she grew up, she said, "A mommy." Even in her five-year-old eyes, being a mommy is work. Honorable, important work. And she made me think that I might be good at my job. Sometimes?

Then, I saw this post about raising daughters (I think it applies to daughters of every kind) and realized how much more work I have to do as she grows up. She needs a skill set that helps her to avoid being caught without a response to the crap of life. It really is important work.

Listen Up, White People (Pissed Off Edition)

Seriously, the next time you need to blame your own crazy, illegal, or evil behavior on some anonymous stranger, I'm going to need you be more creative. Can we PLEASE make this the last time you decide to make imaginary black people your obvious scapegoat? I mean, really--the criminal is imaginary. You can make them anything you want. Pick something else!

At least this nutso chick decided to use a woman instead of the standard issue black male . . . .

Cheese and crackers! (Okay, now I'm ready to return to my normal self and being friendly with some white folk. Thanks for indulging me.)

Hairy Situations

So, I've started this new hair plan: I'm going to stop relaxing my hair.

For an African American woman, this is a pretty major move. As Star Jones used to say on "The View" "Women don't obsess about their bodies; white women obsess about their bodies; black women obsess about their hair!" And we do. It's a primary source of pain and pleasure, a focus of beauty standards, and marker of race. The other thing is that we have so many choices about it. When I think of the black women I know, the hair ranges from weaves to wigs to Afros to braids to twists hot presses to letting-it-do-whatever. In fact, I discussed my hair care decision with some female students this semester, and many of them were in the process of an alternate hair decision themselves. One was in the middle of going natural and underwent "the big cut" (cut off the chemically relaxed hair down to the 3 or 4 inches of natural new growth). One had been natural all of her life and usually wore spirally curls or blew it out straight. One had stopped relaxing it but had it hot pressed regularly. One wore twists. One wore a weave (I think). It was a perfect setting to solidify my decision. They were excited and vowed to hold me to my promise to myself to change my hair style. Of course, I told them that I was not going to come to campus every day while this process unfolded. Who knows what my hair is going to look like with half relaxed hair and half new growth? No, I told them, I'll start this process in the summer when I don't have to stand up in front of people every day.

So I've just skipped my first touch-up. Normally, this is when I start to run to the salon for some chemicals. And when people start to ask when I have a hair appointment. My roots are thick and it's harder to comb my hair. The curls from my roller set won't hold very well anymore. But I'm trying to stick to the plan. After each of my babies, my hair fell out in scary amounts. I know that it was normal, especially since my hair was so thick and full and shiny while I was pregnant. It had to end, right? But after the shedding I expected, it just kept right on falling out. Until I was practically wearing a comb over. All around my hair line I was completely bald. With my daughter, I went crying to my hair stylist, afraid that the hair loss that older women in my family had experienced had been jump started by my pregnancy. "You need to go to the doctor, now," my grandmother told me. So I did; I made an appointment with the dermatologist forthwith. It helped, and the hair did eventually grow back, but it took about a year, and by then I was about to be pregnant again. I was really afraid that I was going to be bald. Now, with my hair all unpretty as it is now, I'm feeling a little panicked again.

This weekend, another interesting hair situation came up. The Babydoll graduated from preschool--so exciting by the way, there was a cap and gown and everything--and I noticed how much trouble the moms had gone through with the four-year-olds' hair. Many of them had straightened it or had curly braids put in. I wondered if I should feel guilty because I had not gone to such lengths. We had been cautioned not to put ponytails on the top or sides of the girls' head because the caps wouldn't fit if we did. So I put two thick braids in The Babydoll's hair and left the ends loose, thinking that it would look festive and cute and sort of grown-up. She likes that style, so she had so complaints. But I still wondered if I should have taken her to the salon for curls and hot combs and let her wear it hanging loose like a grown up. I think maybe I just wasn't ready to let go of her little girl-ness, even in her hair. I'm guessing that most of these girls will be getting their virgin relaxers in a year or two. And they'll probably keep doing it for the rest of their lives. That was basically my experience. There's nothing wrong with that, but I'm going to try a different way. If I can learn to handle my own hair, I can teach The Babydoll to do hers, too (although her hair is thicker and more compliant than mine).

A big part of the weirdness is that I don't really know how else to handle my hair. But even though I've decided to stop forking over hours (and hours and hours) of my time to sitting in hair salons, and goo-gobs of my money as well, I'm just sort of standing around confused. Ultimately, I'm probably going to keep visiting the salon until I can figure out how to take care of it myself on a much more regular basis.

So, here's my new hair journey. It feels rather risky and I'm not a risk-taker. At all. Maybe I'll go completely crazy and put some pictures up. Maybe.

Losing Lena

In a cultural moment when the beauty and value of black women and their bodies is so much still up for discussion, the loss of the lovely Lena Horne is poignant.

She was rare for a number of reasons:

• She had a career in which she remained in and out of the public eye for decades, never disappearing or becoming irrelevant. She was recognizable and beloved by generations. Grandmothers who sang "Stormy Weather" every time they saw Horne on TV had grandsons who tilted their heads in mannish admiration of her enduring beauty. Her episode of "A Different World" in the 90s is remembered fondly by most of my peers.
• She spoke her mind. As an actress, a woman, and a black woman, telling folks where to get off was not supposed to be in the cards. Yet, there are many stories about her outspoken opinions about race in Hollywood.
• She didn't run from being black, even though she could have. She probably could have "passed" (maybe?) but was very clear about the way she identified herself. She didn't need to come up with contrived categories or separate herself from other actresses who were also confronting the difficulties of discrimination and inequity.
• She was a sassy singer and a wonderful actress. Many of those today who try to do both clearly need to stick to only one genre. Halle Berry was right to include Horne in her Academy Award acknowledgements.
• She was the good witch in "The Wiz." That performance is mesmerizing every time I see it. I remember seeing it as a little girl and thinking that she looked like an angel, too beautiful to be real. When she sang, "Believe in yourself as I believe in you!" I cried.
• She was sexy. The road to recognition for black women has been filled with pressures from within and without that often forced them to strip themselves of sexuality altogether; or they were relegated to a simplistic portrait of hypersexuality that was one dimensional and dangerous. (This happened in literature as well, hence the need to prove black respectability.) Horne, with her impossibly small waist and sultry smirk, dared to present herself as a woman who was desirable. And she knew it!
• Dang it--she looked fabulous at 92!

Thank you, Lena Horne!

Thoughts inspired by Chris Rock's Good Hair

1) Nia Long should sooo play me in the movie of my life.

2) I had the culture of hair on my short list of dissertation topics in the beginning stages. If I had stayed with that, maybe I'd have been in Chris Rock's film.

3) What was Barbara Walter's issue on "The View" this morning? She asked a question about black women's hair that Whoopie answered about 5 times. Then she immediately asked Chris Rock, who gave her the same answer.

An addendum: Thoughts about my crappy day that should shock teenage girls into using birth control every single time:

1) I've actually had poop in my hands today. Twice.

2) Yesterday my son sat on the toilet and peed a straight line. Onto me.


*And happy, happy birthday to The Diva!

Oh No You Didn't!

This is an interesting analysis from racialicious.com of those kgb commercials. I had a problem with the portrayal of the black women in the "Weave" commercial mainly because of the neck-rolling, "Oh-no-you-didn't!" attitude coming from the woman. Plus, I saw it after watching that anti-drug commercial in which the boy's guardian (black) angel had a neck-rolling, "Oh-no-you-didn't!" attitude. My goodness, do all black women go through life with attitudes?

Anyway, I hadn't thought this deeply about the commercial, but the writer makes some thought-provoking comments.