natural living

When I said good bye to the creamy crack and started to grow out my perm 2 years ago it really wasn't a political statement. I just wanted more options in styling and healthier hair. But now that the chemically treated tresses are a thing of the past I want to embrace the whole natural lifestyle.
Minus the tofu of course. As a good Trini girl, I need to make sure I save room for some good curry and roti with sorrel. Although divorcing Kennedy Fried was hard, I want to eat food that came from the death and not from some scientific lab.
So this summer I'll be planting a vegetable garden in my backyard. Rolling up my sleeves and digging deep.
Hopefully the strawberries, tomatoes, and cucumbers I plant will be as tasty as the ones my grandmother and I planted back in the day. If not, Fairway it is!

i am not my hair

After 2 years of flirting with the idea and watching my sisters and moms switch teams leaving me the last hold out with a perm kit, I've decided to give up the ruse. The jig is up! My hair has to be beaten into submission by Motions, Dark and Lovely or Affirm. Hell I've even tried to get my hands on some Soul Glo during bad hair days brought on by London fog.

I'm fixing to go from Dorothy Dandridge to Angela Davis. I'm growing out my perm after 10 years. My relationship with the creamy crack is coming to a close.So I throw my hat into the fray of the debate over black hair. Right now it feels like a scene out of School Daze, dancing along to the "Good or Bad Hair" song.

I've been labeled - "that" black girl many times before. The one with the light skin and long hair. In London with its high population of people of mixed heritage, people assume that my daddy is from Country Cork. Unlike at home when people front on their backgrounds, lots of these people really do have Indian in their family (only they are from the subcontinent). But at home when I was younger I got a lot of this -
Ooooo she think she cute (well I do, but for more than just my skin tone thank you).She stuck up. Or my favorite, when people either tell me I'm not "really" black - my reply to this is to take a look at my moms then ask a white man what he would label me.
Will my natural look prevent interactions like this?:
Random person: "So what are you? I mean where are you from?"
Me: "Brooklyn. But I've been living in Queens for about 8 years"
Random person: "No, no. Where are you really from. Like your parents".
Here is where my answer changes. If I'm in the mood for a discussion over the fact that black folk come in all shades I'll tell them the truth. Or if I'm tired of the absurdity, I'll be like -"OOO, well you know. I got a touch of Puerto Rican, Sri Lankan, Romanian". Just let the imagination run wild.

Don't get it twisted, I'm not looking for authenticity. I just want to be reacquainted with my hair in its natural state.

We need to have a national Black women's meeting over the politics of hair and skin color. I'll bring the macaroni and cheese if someone else donates free jars of grease and silk head wraps.