Two days ago I received a phone call that tickled me.
It was from my sister, and her simple words have had me smiling ever since I heard them.
"Oh my God, Khadija, I absolutely love my hair."
This from the girl who, just a few short weeks ago, held back tears as she watched her once long hair being cut short to remove the last remnants of perm forever.
My sister's decision to go natural was shocking to say the very least.
Fareeda's always been the stylish, glamorous one.
Her appearance is never less than flawless and her chemically straightened hair had been beautifully styled to complement her image.
Style-wise, Fareeda and I are as different as night and day.
While Fareeda's always been cover girl trendy, I've always been a plain jane, refusing to wear make up ("If a man doesn't have to wear it, why should I?"), get my nails done ("It's just going to chip in a matter of seconds anyway"), or spend hours at the mall ("God, I hate shopping, let's go have lunch instead!"). But for all of our differences, eventually, both my sister and I would come to the decision to grow out our perms and "go natural" instead.
It's a decision that scores of Black women across the country have made as well.
Which is why when Chris Rock released his movie, "Good Hair" I was struck by the untimeliness of the film. Black women in America are experiencing a hair revolution the likes of which we haven't seen since the 70's. I know very few sistas who still perm their hair, much less have a weave. One need look no further than youtube to find COUNTLESS videos of sistas talking about their decision to go natural, and showing off their various hairstyles. And for Rock to not interview a SINGLE sista in Hollywood who wears her hair naturally seemed deliberate to me. (I suppose he couldn't get in touch with Jill Scott, Erykah Badu, India Aria, Whoopi Goldberg or any other natural sista to provide an alternative opinion huh?)
But overly-simplistic movies aside, most American sistas of my generation share the same hair story. We're born with heads full of curly hair that our mamas love to style with ribbons and barrettes. As we get older our hair texture begins to change. Our curls tighten up, our hair becomes more kinky, and our mamas, never having been taught how to manage this hair, will eventually take us to the hair salon to perm this unruly mass. It's a win-win for everyone. Our mamas no longer have to deal with it, the stylist is getting paid regularly from a new client, and suddenly, we look like the girls on tv. Our hair becomes long, straight, and manageable.
Much like a white woman's.
I went natural about ten years ago.
I hated my hair.
Hated spending HOURS at the salon.
Hated knowing that my hair had to be "touched up" more often than other sista's because it was so thick and kinky and because I worked out so much that I was just going to "sweat out" my perm anyway.
I hated, hated, HATED my hair...
Until I went natural.
Suddenly, I could DO MY OWN HAIR.
Turns out the unmanageable is pretty fucking manageable after all.
It was impossible for me to keep my hair straight because IT WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE STRAIGHT IN THE FIRST PLACE.
My hair is black and thick and kinky and that's a-okay with me.
I LOVE the texture of my natural hair.
If I want to wear it straight (which I do once or twice a year) I can have it blow dried at the hair salon. And when I'm ready to wear it kinky again, I simply wash it and it returns to its natural state.
Life's a hell of a lot easier once you decide to stop fighting an unwinnable war.
And my sister's still a trendsetter.
She's had more hairstyles in the short time she's been natural than I've had in the past ten years.
And she turns more heads and gets more compliments today than she ever has before.
I have nothing against perms or the women who wear them. I truly don't care how anyone, besides myself and my daughter, choose to wear their hair.
The beauty of Black hair is that, unlike a lot of other races, we can do SO MUCH with it.
And the beauty of life is that it's never too late to discover that fact.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Rally to Restore Sanity to My Life
Two days ago, Nita (Amira's grandmother) introduced me to one of her friends.
"This is my grandbaby, Amira," she began. "And this is her mother, Khadija."
"Nice to meet you" I said.
"It's nice to meet you, too" said the lady whose name I've already forgotten. "And what a beautiful baby girl! But now it's time to start working on a little boy. Don't wait too long between babies because..."
I decided to take that moment to politely interrupt.
"Oh, no Ma'am." I said. "I'm not having any more kids."
"But you have to!" She exclaimed. "You have to have another one. She needs a brother or sister to grow up with." And then this stranger began to list the various reasons why my life won't be complete without another child. She was a perfectly nice lady and of course she meant no harm but...
I've heard this list before.
In fact, I hear it all the time.
Family members and friends, store owners and bus drivers, everyone seems to have a reason as to why I "HAVE TO" have another child.
These people all have one thing in common:
THEIR children are already grown and out of the house.
They seem to have forgotten how difficult it is to raise a toddler.
Forget about the poopy diapers and endless nursing...that's nothing compared to the loss of identity that I've encountered since becoming a stay at home mom.
Now I'm not saying this happens to everyone but...
I rarely leave the house without Amira.
"This is my grandbaby, Amira," she began. "And this is her mother, Khadija."
"Nice to meet you" I said.
"It's nice to meet you, too" said the lady whose name I've already forgotten. "And what a beautiful baby girl! But now it's time to start working on a little boy. Don't wait too long between babies because..."
I decided to take that moment to politely interrupt.
"Oh, no Ma'am." I said. "I'm not having any more kids."
"But you have to!" She exclaimed. "You have to have another one. She needs a brother or sister to grow up with." And then this stranger began to list the various reasons why my life won't be complete without another child. She was a perfectly nice lady and of course she meant no harm but...
I've heard this list before.
In fact, I hear it all the time.
Family members and friends, store owners and bus drivers, everyone seems to have a reason as to why I "HAVE TO" have another child.
These people all have one thing in common:
THEIR children are already grown and out of the house.
They seem to have forgotten how difficult it is to raise a toddler.
Forget about the poopy diapers and endless nursing...that's nothing compared to the loss of identity that I've encountered since becoming a stay at home mom.
Now I'm not saying this happens to everyone but...
I rarely leave the house without Amira.
I don't go to a doctor's appointment without WILLING the doctor to hurry up so that I can get home to my child.
I can count ON ONE HAND the number of times I've left my daughter at home in order to hang out with my friends and she is 19 months old.
In a rare moment of intimate coversation with Lorenzo he said, "I miss you, babe" and I answered, "I miss ME, too!"
I love my daughter, ya'll. That goes without saying. I CHOSE to stay at home with her for as long as I could and that was absolutely the right choice for my family but...
Now it's time to make some choices for me.
I used to be an admin at NESL, a student at UMass, a gym rat, a daughter, and a best friend.
Now I'm "just a mom" and as Gloria Steinhem and Oprah will tell you, it's just not enough.
Not for me anyway.
I want to be Lorenzo's girlfriend again.
I want to be the co-worker who brings donuts for everyone on Friday mornings.
I want to rediscover ME.
Because while my most important role, the one that truly gives me the most happiest, is that of Amira's mother...
It will never be ALL of who I am.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
What A Difference...
Right now it's Saturday afternoon and instead of engaging in my customary habit of channel surfing while my daughter naps, I'm sitting in front of my laptop typing this entry.
This fast is one of the smartest things I've ever done.
I thought I'd be lost and lonely without Facebook and television to keep me company but nothing could be farther from the truth.
Instead I feel more focused than I've been in a really long time.
I'm able to sit still for 20 minutes and have an uninterrupted conversation with my boyfriend.
I can read a magazine from cover to cover, jotting down the recipes I'd like to try.
When I have broken my fast it was to spend time with Lorenzo. When he asked me to make pancakes and watch the season premiere of The Cleveland Show with him, I didn't have to think twice before saying yes.
I'm ashamed to admit this but there was a time when the answer would have been no.
I would have had dishes to wash or the baby to tend to.
I would have hemmed and hawed and complained about missing a repeat of The Office or something similarly stupid. Bottom line: I never made time for my relationship.
That has to change.
Doing this fast has helped me put tv, Facebook and even junk food back into their proper places.
They can be fun diversions but shouldn't be used to help me get through life.
This fast is one of the smartest things I've ever done.
I thought I'd be lost and lonely without Facebook and television to keep me company but nothing could be farther from the truth.
Instead I feel more focused than I've been in a really long time.
I'm able to sit still for 20 minutes and have an uninterrupted conversation with my boyfriend.
I can read a magazine from cover to cover, jotting down the recipes I'd like to try.
When I have broken my fast it was to spend time with Lorenzo. When he asked me to make pancakes and watch the season premiere of The Cleveland Show with him, I didn't have to think twice before saying yes.
I'm ashamed to admit this but there was a time when the answer would have been no.
I would have had dishes to wash or the baby to tend to.
I would have hemmed and hawed and complained about missing a repeat of The Office or something similarly stupid. Bottom line: I never made time for my relationship.
That has to change.
Doing this fast has helped me put tv, Facebook and even junk food back into their proper places.
They can be fun diversions but shouldn't be used to help me get through life.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Fast
Like almost every other Black person I've ever met, I grew up in the church but I didn't stay there long.
My mom is a really strict Pentecostal Christian. She doesn't curse, she doesn't smoke, she doesn't drink, and until the accident happened that would leave her wheelchair bound, my mother was at church each and every Sunday of her life.
Me...not so much.
I stopped going to church as soon as it was allowed, at around 13 or 14 when I entered high school. But I still believed in God nonetheless. Confusion on that matter wouldn't come until I got to college a few years later, where I began to study Baldwin and Morrison and slavery in depth and it became much more difficult to believe in a god that would let heinous crimes abound unpunished.
But eventually my faith came back to me and while I don't adhere to any particular religion, I do believe (hope, wish?) that there's a being out there that's far bigger than all of us.
Every mother does.
Because it's damn near impossible to look at your child's sleeping face and NOT believe that this perfect being had to come from something divine.
It's even more impossible to let this child out of your sight for even a single second without holding fast to your faith.
As mothers, we HAVE to believe in God. We have to believe that there's something all-knowing, all-powerful that will keep our children safe from harm. It may not be rational but hell, it's all we've got.
I for one, wouldn't be able to sleep at night without this belief.
All that being said, I've decided to try something that both my boyfriend and best friend Michele do on the regular.
I've decided to fast for 30 days.
For 30 days I'm giving up facebook, potato chips, and tv.
Let me explain.
For most of my twenties and early thirties I could be found at the bar, club, and/or house party every Thursday through Sunday night. Even after I gave up all of that partying my friends were still the biggest part of my life. We did everything together; from going out to eat to getting waxed, I rarely spent a weekend alone.
My life is very different now.
I went from being a social butterfly to a fairly isolated, stay-at-home mom, living hundreds of miles away from my best friends and family.
It's easy to get hooked on tv when you feel like you don't have shit else to do.
But in much the same way I finally outgrew the drinking and drugging, I want to outgrow the "using tv to mask my boredom" phase as well.
There's got to be something more productive I could be doing with my time. And while I won't be giving it up entirely (Friday Night Lights is too good to let go of even for just a month) I won't be turning it on during the daytime anymore either. For the next 30 days my tv will be on during primetime only. That may not sound like much but it's a HUGE step in the right direction for me.
And as much as I love facebook and appreciate the fact that I'm able to stay in touch with so many people on a daily basis, it's preventing me from being TRULY present with the people I need to connect with the most. My boyfriend and child.
The giving up potato chips is something I'm doing just for me. I want to be as healthy as is humanly possible. I want to set a good example for my daughter. I want her to know that eating anything is fine in moderation but eating junk food daily simply isn't good for us. And I want to learn to turn to something besides food, tv and facebook when I'm feeling bad or lonely or depressed.
I may not be religious, and I may still be too much of a sinner for my mother's liking, but I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe in the notion that faith can carry us through all hardships. And I do believe that giving up my safety nets for just 30 days can have a positive impact on the lives of Amira, Lorenzo, and me.
So I'm starting today. Wish me luck!
My mom is a really strict Pentecostal Christian. She doesn't curse, she doesn't smoke, she doesn't drink, and until the accident happened that would leave her wheelchair bound, my mother was at church each and every Sunday of her life.
Me...not so much.
I stopped going to church as soon as it was allowed, at around 13 or 14 when I entered high school. But I still believed in God nonetheless. Confusion on that matter wouldn't come until I got to college a few years later, where I began to study Baldwin and Morrison and slavery in depth and it became much more difficult to believe in a god that would let heinous crimes abound unpunished.
But eventually my faith came back to me and while I don't adhere to any particular religion, I do believe (hope, wish?) that there's a being out there that's far bigger than all of us.
Every mother does.
Because it's damn near impossible to look at your child's sleeping face and NOT believe that this perfect being had to come from something divine.
It's even more impossible to let this child out of your sight for even a single second without holding fast to your faith.
As mothers, we HAVE to believe in God. We have to believe that there's something all-knowing, all-powerful that will keep our children safe from harm. It may not be rational but hell, it's all we've got.
I for one, wouldn't be able to sleep at night without this belief.
All that being said, I've decided to try something that both my boyfriend and best friend Michele do on the regular.
I've decided to fast for 30 days.
For 30 days I'm giving up facebook, potato chips, and tv.
Let me explain.
For most of my twenties and early thirties I could be found at the bar, club, and/or house party every Thursday through Sunday night. Even after I gave up all of that partying my friends were still the biggest part of my life. We did everything together; from going out to eat to getting waxed, I rarely spent a weekend alone.
My life is very different now.
I went from being a social butterfly to a fairly isolated, stay-at-home mom, living hundreds of miles away from my best friends and family.
It's easy to get hooked on tv when you feel like you don't have shit else to do.
But in much the same way I finally outgrew the drinking and drugging, I want to outgrow the "using tv to mask my boredom" phase as well.
There's got to be something more productive I could be doing with my time. And while I won't be giving it up entirely (Friday Night Lights is too good to let go of even for just a month) I won't be turning it on during the daytime anymore either. For the next 30 days my tv will be on during primetime only. That may not sound like much but it's a HUGE step in the right direction for me.
And as much as I love facebook and appreciate the fact that I'm able to stay in touch with so many people on a daily basis, it's preventing me from being TRULY present with the people I need to connect with the most. My boyfriend and child.
The giving up potato chips is something I'm doing just for me. I want to be as healthy as is humanly possible. I want to set a good example for my daughter. I want her to know that eating anything is fine in moderation but eating junk food daily simply isn't good for us. And I want to learn to turn to something besides food, tv and facebook when I'm feeling bad or lonely or depressed.
I may not be religious, and I may still be too much of a sinner for my mother's liking, but I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe in the notion that faith can carry us through all hardships. And I do believe that giving up my safety nets for just 30 days can have a positive impact on the lives of Amira, Lorenzo, and me.
So I'm starting today. Wish me luck!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A New Beginning
Damn, it's been a long time.
I'm sitting in my basement, staring at the computer screen, and waiting for inspiration to strike. Writing about the daily happenings of my life used to be second nature to me but apparently, motherhood has changed all of that. I keep waiting for my 14 month old daughter to come running into the room, demanding her space on my lap. But it's quiet here this Sunday morning. Lorenzo, my boyfriend, has taken our daughter upstairs to visit his mother. And for the first time in what seems like centuries, I have the house to myself.
To write.
So where do I begin?
Once upon a time I knew EXACTLY who I'd turn out to be. In 7th grade we had to write a report on our futures. Nervous, I stood in front of the classroom and read the story of all my hopes and dreams. I would grow up, go to college, move to a penthouse in New York, and make my living as a writer. I'd travel all over the world, meet new people, make great friends, and most importantly, I'd always have a story to tell. At the end of my reading, my classmate Nadene raised her hand and asked,
"Who's going to watch the kids while you're travelling all over the place?"
"I'm not having any kids."
"What's your husband going to say about this?" She countered.
"I'm not having a husband either."
She was silent for a few seconds before responding, "You are so selfish."
I was stunned. I'd had the same best friends my entire short life. I loved them, I'd do anything for my friends and family. Did not wanting to commit to a husband and children really make me selfish? I decided in that moment that if that's what people thought about me, then so be it.
I still wasn't having any kids.
Fast forward twenty years and in many respects my life was pretty similar to what it had been in 7th grade. I was still writing, though it had taken the form of a daily myspace blog. I still lived in the Boston area (like so many Bostonians I absolutely hate NY and had long since retired my plan of one day living there). And I still had the same best friends I'd had in grammar school. My family still lived in my hometown of Cambridge and that's where you could find me almost every weekend. I travelled every year. Jamaica, New Orleans, California, Mexico...my friends and I really lived it up.
If you had asked me then I would have told you that my life was as perfect as I could wish for. Everyday was pretty much the same. I woke up at 6:00 a.m. and headed to the gym. I worked out for an hour and half before going to a job I adored as an Admin at New England School of Law. After work, I'd meet my girls for dinner, drinks, or a movie. And each night, I'd be in bed no later than 10:00 p.m. to ensure I was rested enough to do it all over again the next day.
What some would call monotony I called safety. My life had veered dangerously off-course for several years and so the sameness of my routine felt good to me. I had the best friends anyone could ask for. They were my soulmates, much more so than any husband ever could be. And their children were my children. I was finally at peace. Until one day, at my roommate's urging, I decided to try an online dating service. I thought it would be hilarious. I'd have a couple of bad dates and endless stories to regale my friends and blog readers with. I signed up for a 30 day membership and waited for the parade of losers to contact me.
They never did.
I got one email and one email only.
It was from a guy in Chicago. Black, vegan, and a football fan.
Just like me.
We started emailing each other for several weeks until the night he finally called me.
We talked on the phone for about 8 hours straight.
By the time we hung up I knew I'd found "the one."
And I was screwed.
Because I loved my life of sameness and routine. I'd never wanted all the messiness that comes from emotions and love. But...that's exactly what I ended up with.
It's been three years, one cross country move, and a daughter later and my life is as different as anything I could imagine.
Gone are the days of leisurely lunches with the girls, afternoons of outlet shopping or salon days but...I don't miss it half as much as I thought I would.
I always thought that if I ever had children I'd be the world's WORST mother. That's why I never planned on having any. Nadene was wrong, I wasn't selfish I just didn't believe in myself and I didn't think it'd be fair to bring a child into this world if I didn't know how to care for him or her.
When I very accidentally got pregnant and finally decided to have the baby I bought every book on pregnancy you can possibly imagine. I watched dvds on natural child birth, breastfeeding and attachment parenting. By the time my daughter was born I'd tried to learn everything I could about how to be a good mom.
But the one thing the books never mentioned is this: after 30+ years of knowing exactly who you are, motherhood changes EVERYTHING. When I got pregnant I told Lorenzo that he would have to stay home with the baby, because working was too much a part of my identity for me to give it up. During the second trimester I decided that I would stay home for "a little while" to nurse my child. On the day my daughter was born I took one look at her before turning to Lorenzo and saying, "Looks like you'll have to get a second job cuz I will never work again." I had no idea it was possible for ME to love another human being so much. I used to love waking up to the sound of the alarm clock and knowing exactly what my day had in store for me. Now I wake up to the feel of my daughter butting her head into my chest and it is the sweetest feeling on this earth.
You just never know who you're going to be as a mother until...it happens.
And it's not all good times. Not being able to pee or take a shower without my child bursting into the bathroom can get VERY annoying. And God knows I can't wait till Amira is potty changed but...when she smiles at me with her toothy grin I melt inside. This may be a whole new world for me but...it's one I'm actually enjoying a lot.
I'm sitting in my basement, staring at the computer screen, and waiting for inspiration to strike. Writing about the daily happenings of my life used to be second nature to me but apparently, motherhood has changed all of that. I keep waiting for my 14 month old daughter to come running into the room, demanding her space on my lap. But it's quiet here this Sunday morning. Lorenzo, my boyfriend, has taken our daughter upstairs to visit his mother. And for the first time in what seems like centuries, I have the house to myself.
To write.
So where do I begin?
Once upon a time I knew EXACTLY who I'd turn out to be. In 7th grade we had to write a report on our futures. Nervous, I stood in front of the classroom and read the story of all my hopes and dreams. I would grow up, go to college, move to a penthouse in New York, and make my living as a writer. I'd travel all over the world, meet new people, make great friends, and most importantly, I'd always have a story to tell. At the end of my reading, my classmate Nadene raised her hand and asked,
"Who's going to watch the kids while you're travelling all over the place?"
"I'm not having any kids."
"What's your husband going to say about this?" She countered.
"I'm not having a husband either."
She was silent for a few seconds before responding, "You are so selfish."
I was stunned. I'd had the same best friends my entire short life. I loved them, I'd do anything for my friends and family. Did not wanting to commit to a husband and children really make me selfish? I decided in that moment that if that's what people thought about me, then so be it.
I still wasn't having any kids.
Fast forward twenty years and in many respects my life was pretty similar to what it had been in 7th grade. I was still writing, though it had taken the form of a daily myspace blog. I still lived in the Boston area (like so many Bostonians I absolutely hate NY and had long since retired my plan of one day living there). And I still had the same best friends I'd had in grammar school. My family still lived in my hometown of Cambridge and that's where you could find me almost every weekend. I travelled every year. Jamaica, New Orleans, California, Mexico...my friends and I really lived it up.
If you had asked me then I would have told you that my life was as perfect as I could wish for. Everyday was pretty much the same. I woke up at 6:00 a.m. and headed to the gym. I worked out for an hour and half before going to a job I adored as an Admin at New England School of Law. After work, I'd meet my girls for dinner, drinks, or a movie. And each night, I'd be in bed no later than 10:00 p.m. to ensure I was rested enough to do it all over again the next day.
What some would call monotony I called safety. My life had veered dangerously off-course for several years and so the sameness of my routine felt good to me. I had the best friends anyone could ask for. They were my soulmates, much more so than any husband ever could be. And their children were my children. I was finally at peace. Until one day, at my roommate's urging, I decided to try an online dating service. I thought it would be hilarious. I'd have a couple of bad dates and endless stories to regale my friends and blog readers with. I signed up for a 30 day membership and waited for the parade of losers to contact me.
They never did.
I got one email and one email only.
It was from a guy in Chicago. Black, vegan, and a football fan.
Just like me.
We started emailing each other for several weeks until the night he finally called me.
We talked on the phone for about 8 hours straight.
By the time we hung up I knew I'd found "the one."
And I was screwed.
Because I loved my life of sameness and routine. I'd never wanted all the messiness that comes from emotions and love. But...that's exactly what I ended up with.
It's been three years, one cross country move, and a daughter later and my life is as different as anything I could imagine.
Gone are the days of leisurely lunches with the girls, afternoons of outlet shopping or salon days but...I don't miss it half as much as I thought I would.
I always thought that if I ever had children I'd be the world's WORST mother. That's why I never planned on having any. Nadene was wrong, I wasn't selfish I just didn't believe in myself and I didn't think it'd be fair to bring a child into this world if I didn't know how to care for him or her.
When I very accidentally got pregnant and finally decided to have the baby I bought every book on pregnancy you can possibly imagine. I watched dvds on natural child birth, breastfeeding and attachment parenting. By the time my daughter was born I'd tried to learn everything I could about how to be a good mom.
But the one thing the books never mentioned is this: after 30+ years of knowing exactly who you are, motherhood changes EVERYTHING. When I got pregnant I told Lorenzo that he would have to stay home with the baby, because working was too much a part of my identity for me to give it up. During the second trimester I decided that I would stay home for "a little while" to nurse my child. On the day my daughter was born I took one look at her before turning to Lorenzo and saying, "Looks like you'll have to get a second job cuz I will never work again." I had no idea it was possible for ME to love another human being so much. I used to love waking up to the sound of the alarm clock and knowing exactly what my day had in store for me. Now I wake up to the feel of my daughter butting her head into my chest and it is the sweetest feeling on this earth.
You just never know who you're going to be as a mother until...it happens.
And it's not all good times. Not being able to pee or take a shower without my child bursting into the bathroom can get VERY annoying. And God knows I can't wait till Amira is potty changed but...when she smiles at me with her toothy grin I melt inside. This may be a whole new world for me but...it's one I'm actually enjoying a lot.
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