Nappy is Cool too.

The distortion of  the views that people have towards Black women are very prominent when Beneatha chooses to cut her hair off. The narrator describes it as "close-cropped and unstraightened"(Hansberry 80), meaning her hair was short and somewhat curly. Ruth, completely baffled, makes it seem as if it is not normal to have hair like Beneatha's; She made it seem as if Beneatha is not socially acceptable to have hair as she does. Saying "You expect this boy to go out with you with your head all nappy" (Hansberry 80)?  Nappy literally meaning "Afro-textured hair", but, why does nappy have to be a bad thing? George goes say that Beneatha looks "eccentric"(Hansberry 80), saying that she and her hair look abnormal and uncommon, but in a shameful way. 
Africans naturally have curly, kiny, and ziggly types of hair. So to go from having naturally curly hair, to the hair that sprouts from your roots..."naturally"  to be "eccentric" is quite a theory. "How can something that's natural be eccentric"(80)?
(like, there's an entire scale and everything) 
Of course during the 50s and the 60s, Black women were known to have pressed/straightened hair. I know that as both time and society have evolved, Black hair and its societal standards will evolve too, as they have. 

Here's where it gets interesting...

At the start of slavery, to possess Euro-centric features was acceptable, and Black women began to abandon their cornrows, and their fro's to transition into a new do' that wasn't curly, or that did not resemble their original heritage. Which began the assimilation into White or European culture- Which is also exactly what Beneatha is challenging in this altercation between George and Ruth. 

                             

Just a Grape

As I was doing the reading for A Raisin in the Sun, I've come to terms with the type of character Ruth is so far. 
She's kinda hopeless, a bit of a worrier, and is always prepared for the worst case scenario...
She's almost- Rude, to an extent to where there is nothing to be happy about in the life she lives. All of her decisions, all of her emotions seem to be dictated by the monetary issues in her home. Her husband, Walter, notices as they converse over his breakfast.  

He even makes the wide generalization that it is all colored women that behave this way... Which is a pretty large assumption, seeing that you'd have to know all Black women in order for what he said to be valid. 

Beneatha, she doesn't believe in God;Which is fine. I guess I was really just a little uneasy to her mother's reaction because she slapped her. Then tried to justify her response by saying "What you did was childish-- So you got treated like a child"(Hansberry 52). 
I think I can go as far as to say that's pretty much belittling her opinion, but I know things were different during this time. 

- Something to think about...

A little Party Never Killed Nobody...

Which ironically it kind of did. 
"I think he half-expected her to walk into one of his parties...Then he began asking people casually if they knew her, and I was the first one he found." (Fitzgerald 79). 
In this passage, Gatsby goes the immeasurable lengths just to rekindle his love with the married Daisy Fay Buchanan.  
Seeing that Gatsby threw all of his extravagant gatherings as a gesture of his love to lure Daisy back to him. Spending mass amounts of money on parties he'd hope she'd walk into was a bit of a stretch in my opinion. In the novel, he throws two parties, the one he invites Nick to, to where he coincidentally runs into Ms. Baker,  and the second one, to almost celebrate the newly found union between Daisy and Gatsby. Daisy, stringing him along, doesn't seem to care about his grand gestures, while her own husband engages in an affair with his mistress. What Gatsby was doing was half-sweet, and obsessive.  He even "bought that house so that Daisy would be just across the bay" (Fitzgerald78),  but, clearly love is blindness when it comes to Gatsby concluding the story with his own death and the mere fact that Daisy never musters up the courage to leave her husband for the man she truly loved.  
 Such a tragedy it seems because  it all were for nothing. Gatsby's actions exceed any ideal of love that any other man could match. 
This entire novel is a doomed love triangle that ends in the death's of Tom's mistress, Myrtle, and Daisy's lover, Gatsby. The people in the crossfire, Nick and Jordan, help them cheat on each other which shows just how dysfunctional their friendships are, and where their loyalties lie.  How heartbreaking it was, showing not the least bit of remorse for what Daisy had done(killing a person and a relationship), and then she fled to avoid dealing with the cleanup. 
She went back to him, and he went back to black. 

Whose Eye is Actually the Bluest?

Confronting racism can be one of the toughest things to encounter. Whether it be a sickening comment, or the way you see or view a hateful symbol. Especially when it's tucked away in the closet but always peeking through the cracks of the door. Racism is not something people can try to hide now, now that time is evolving and social and societal acceptances begin to shift and change.

In the Bluest Eye, Black women and Black men are faced with inequality living amongst their White neighbors. The amount of pressure society yields on its children forces eyes to look down and smiles to smear. How bad does it have to get for our Black children to desire physical features of those that are white? Uncomfortable enough in their own skin that they would desire to be someone else; Someone that was them, but did not look like them.

In The Bluest Eye, Pecola admires Shirley Temple on the side of her cup. Desiring to be like her, aspiring to ingest her culture as she drinks her white milk. "We knew she was fond of the Shirley Temple cup and took every opportunity to drink milk out of it" (Morrison 23), Morrison wrote describing Pecola's interest In the cup. Washing down White culture, and washing away Black culture, she figured if she looked like her, then her woes would disappear. 

I Won't Hide the Funk

I used to press an iron to my hair to disguise what was underneath...
 Or I could even take it back to two years ago, when I didn't even know I had curly hair... Or the closest I ever was to witnessing it, was when the hairs on my neck stuck out of my shower cap, and they curled up due to the humidity after a shower.  Or even after I got out off the pool, the waves would turn up, and the length would crinkle. 
Mother always told me the creamy crack was the way to go... Straight hair was just "easier to manage" as she would say. 
And yanno', I never really understood what she thought about curly hair until I went natural. 
Straight hair was easier to manage; and I will always hands down agree. 
Ever since I cut off my straight hair to let my curls roam free, I'd be standing over the sink in my bathroom for 45 minutes, trying to achieve that bomb twist-out I pinned on Pinterest, and the bantu knots i'd watch on Youtube. 
I'd always had a perm as a child, and for a black women to freely wear a fro was quite uncommon. It even made me feel as if they should tame their hair and conform to the flat iron as my mother had taught. I'll always respect the women with the coils and the ziggles that sprout from their gardens. They had the courage I didn't learn until last December. "Wherever it erupts, this funk" (Morrison 83), i'll let it fly and lay as it pleases. For the funk, makes me, and as I allow it. 
Curly hair has always been portrayed as something that needs to be tamed and handled, and the media doesn't help to make people think otherwise. I won't suppress my curls to the steam of a pressing comb, or the sizzle of a flat iron. 
i'll slick my baby hairs, following that bomb twist-out, and i'll watch the curls bounce in the mirror with a grand smile pasted across my face, as you should be happy with yours. 

You Equip Yourself to Look.

I wish "we were still in love with ourselves" (Morrison 74), because, if it were up to society; self-loathing would become quite the trend. Not in love with ourselves in terms of conceit, but being so in love with ourselves that flaws become a foreign concept, and that you are at peace with reflection in the water. It has become so difficult for people to take compliments because they feel obligated to compliment you back, rather than just saying thank you...Or, if you ever run into that one person that just cannot take a compliment, and they continue to try to explain as to why your compliment is invalid. 

Or maybe they actually just can't take the compliment because they just don't think they look they way you say they do. And that's even more painful.

I wish we were so in love with ourselves that our confidence could be naked and we would not be afraid to cover up. Being comfortable in our own skin is probably one of the most important things that can't be taught in school, but one teaches itself. Somebody could spout to you "love yourself" , and that "you're beautiful" all day long; but it'll always amount to nothing if you don't believe it.

I wish those few didn't have to ask "What did we lack?" (Morrison 74), because without question, they'd examine themselves and find nothing that caught them up. Beauty would come in a variety pack and everyone would've created their own definition.

2016 in a Nut Shell man

Alrighty.

Quick Rant: It's a bit frustrating that we live or lived in such a society that masculinity and femininity is sorely based upon your gender. A man can't get his eyebrows done without it being seen as gay, a female can't play football or be as strong as that big buff dude in your local gym... Even in a corporate instance, men and women sometimes aren't even paid the same, but, that is beside the point, and a whole different rant that's been done before. Like, little girls can't even play with action figures and get stuck playing with barbies, or maybe a little boy wants to dress up a baby doll... but that's not man enough.

We, and oh yes I mean WE as a society have created bizarre ideals of masculinity, femininity, and what the human body should look like  for no reason... It's like a set of rules meant to be broken and not to be followed. A man should be slim and muscular, and a women should be slim with large assets to accompany her hourglass figure. Its explicitly stated nowadays that "everyone is beautiful, but not everyone". And if the fact that every women was or felt beautiful "Could this account for the popularity of breast implant surgery?(Prager)". To make the point that cosmetic surgery is meant to enhance but it's of question as to why enhance it.  In Emily Prager's Our Barbies, Ourselves, she uses rhetoric by incorporating questions that lead you to keep reading her piece to find out their answers. She uses humor, and creates an atmosphere of comfort when talking about a sensitive topic.

To which i'd end this... Conformity is lame. Be you.

a Socially Withered Fanstasy

Obviously by the title, there's a disconnect between my infatuation between the union of lovers. Not a hater, I love love. But my gosh, love and relationships are so overly fantasized on social media it makes me gag. The amount of pages on social media, and Pinterest boards catering to the perfect gifts for him or her, honestly by this time lack originality and thought... Especially since some are doing the same thing. 

The few  that are in relationships will glance at the pictures and will either relate or scroll right past them. Scrolling is what I prefer to do, it is all, repetitive. But, by that time, one will grow tired of those preaching on what a relationship is supposed to be like... If it is not according to society and all its social standards, it's wrong. Not only are relationships a trend, but have become exploited so far beyond what they are, they have so many rules attached to them. 

1. Post him or her everywhere so everyone knows you care about them

2. Throw a VSCO filter over your cute times together 

3. Bring them material things so they know you appreciate them

The list could continue. Being in a relationship sounds like a chore rather then exchanging smiles, exotic laughter, and enjoying one's company. One's love is immeasurable to any Instagram post or any gift they could purchase or craft out of thought. I could never stress it enough that accompanying someone should speak loud enough for itself. But, who am I to speak on what love is, or what a relationship should be like. I'm young, especially in a time period where you learn to love, and to share loss; so I guess I'm entitled. "Sing together and talk story" (Hong Kingston 45) of the times you share, and laugh as you continue to make your own memories, not according to others I'd hope. 

Maus

In this panel of Maus, written by Art Spiegelman, it displays the mice living their daily lives and eating with their family. While all of that sounds normal of course... Yanno' mice eating dinner with their family at a table n' stuff; from the prospective this panel is drawn, it shows that the mice are being watched through the window. During the time period of the Holocaust, Jewish people were confined to curfews and other harsh rules by the German reign powered by the fist of Hitler. I feel as if the fact that the mice are being monitored by Nazi's, emphasizes the controlling and demeaning ways the Nazi's exercised their power over the Jews. Speigelman even takes the liberty of drawing curtains in this panel,  but the fact that the curtains are not in use, shows the amount of privacy the mice have.
Spiegelman's use of anthropomorphism refers to the Jewish people as mice and the Germans as cats. Meaning, the Jewish people are minor prey that the cat's will taunt before zoning in on their meal.  Spiegelman wrote " When first I came home it looked exactly so as before I went away...(Maus vol.1 pg 74)". Explaining that Vladek's life before he went away to war looked as if he never left, the dynamic of his family was something the Germans could not take away, even under constant surveillance.  

Childhood

You'll be born as a child thinking you want to grow up and be a princess, an astronaut, a famous athlete, and a fire fighter. Or even in my sisters ex-boyfriends case... The fire truck. You'll color outside of the lines in the first few years as you learn to write, and learn to form opinions about things you didn't think you'd even care about in the first place. But, a few years later, you'll be corrected, and conformed to the lines of your own coloring book. Then, you'll start to demolish old norms and find new ones as the suspense of your life continues to build. Figuring out who you are and what you want to be are already in question as you become a snaggle-tooth child with pig tails, rosy cheeks, or an awkward haircut. 
Ever since kindergarten, or even daycare, you grow up learning the basic principles of how to be a human being. Sharing your animal crackers becomes consideration, pushing little johnny on the swing becomes caring, and finger painting with your bestie becomes team work. The epitome of childhood forms you into an adult on your own reality show with a never ending season finale. Things will become less interesting, and will feel forced as you'll kiss your childhood goodbye as it disappears into distant memories, and maybe some day you'll retell it as a memoir, or if you're that into it, maybe a novel... 
Gee, as much fun as adulting sounds, it won't bring you as much joy as the monkey bars, or going to fifth grade camp as your first time trip away from home, but... Who wants to grow up? "Some day you will be old enough to read fairy tales again
" (C.S Lewis) , and you'll remember how appreciative you were to be a child in your adult years as you experience what the future promises.   

Long May You Reign.

Unrealistic norms have become your goals and when you don't achieve them, the cracks below your nose begin to set. Double-tap and screenshot as you wish, of  course... It'll all go in the trash eventually. Silently, you'll scroll, pin, and tweet whatever looks appetizing. 

How okay are you being you?

Quietly you'll scroll and retweet whatever looks great to you, and later you'll become the latest retweet. Essentially, what everybody else is doing, or wearing concerns you the most. Where's the individuality? Not to mention that, that cute couple you'll like and tag your friends in will become your standard of what your next or current relationship will be like. All of the false pretenses of love are mistaken for lust. 

 Man, medias got you by your laces huh? Next, you'll need your eyebrows to be as thick as hers, and you'll be encouraged to get in the gym to have a body like theirs. 

You'll take pictures naked.

 Not in the literal sense of course; but naked and baring it all. Will you smile or straight face it? Because your smile won't seem as beautiful as the last. Naked in terms of baring the fact that you are a product of what you've seen in the media and that you as yourself has disappeared behind a door you don't remember how to unlock. "Everybody worships" (Wallace 237), something of course. Whether it be a god, or just be idea that you're great. 

You'll then realize that you can create your own societal norms and won't have to follow a manual that was written for somebody else. 

My own Boxer Braids

My own boxer braids are so inspired by Kim Kardashian and by all the women with beautiful bold brows and winged tattoos painted across their eyelids.
My own boxer braids are glorified and tweeted and deemed beautiful and if they sway in the wind when I switch, but they thought to be someone elses.
My own boxer braids are exceptional and  eye catching on her but not me.

Dare I tell you they are cornrows and you'll correct me.

The red in my cheeks flourished through brown hues and yellow tones, and the cracks of my smile raised and fell  as she complimented me on my "Boxer Braids".


Kylie Jenner braids her hair into "Boxer Braids" but the black girl with corn rows in  hair automatically isn't as nice as hers is, or is questioned to not even be her hair.

Sherman Alexie wrote " We were in this cowboy bar. We were the only real cowboys there despite the fact that we're Indians". It is not uncommon for a base culture to become appropriated. Not hating on the pseudo cowboys or the lighter complected girls with the cornrows, but when credit is due... Give it. Black culture is stolen and Americanized, to be seen as less on me but more on you. 

There's a fine line between cultural appropriation and cultural appreciation. It pains me to see Vogue Magazine glorify Bantu knots and slicked baby hair on white women and it becomes high fashion.. It's Vogue of course, so why not? But when your fellow black women do what their culture caters to, the irony presents itself. Cornrows especially have been dated all the way back to African culture in 3000 B.C. And Native American Culture. For a country that prides itself on equality, this would be a prime example of what to reach for. There is no shame in appreciating our culture and our people for what they do. Appreciating far enough to where you'd want to incorporate it into your daily life is actually pretty nice.

 But.
Do not forget where your- "Boxer Braids" came from.

You Forgot Something.

Name any monument or memorial and find it on a pamphlet you pick up in a museum, or on the back of a map you purchase at a gas station... You visit these places, and ask any stranger to take multiple photographs of you with your family members so you can say you went there. You visit a MEMORIAL to commemorate death, not take fun family photos. 

 

would you  visit a grave stone, smile, and proceed to put it on your Snapchat story? No.

The pseudo-based ideal that a memorial becomes a tourist attraction probably leaves an uneasy feeling to those standing next to you paying their respects to those they lost in which the memorial was built for. "After a short time the memorial becomes another familiar object of the busy town centre, and is rarely looked at" (Whittick 44). Any memorial, Vietnam, Civil Rights, WW1/2, those were times to recognize hardship, conflict. The pure fact that somebody somewhere designed the monument is something to honor. 

A statue, flag, or engraving in the sidewalk, marks a point in our history that grants reflection. Especially those whose lives were taken on a battle field, or those that are recognized due to great deeds. It is an emotional experience to visit a monument, as it should take your breath away each time. 

Recognition is important.

You can take a picture later.