I was as intrigued as the rest of you when Tyra Banks announced that the season premiere of her talk show would involve her taking off the wigs and weaves and showing us her real hair. Something about the description convinced us that, much like the classic gag of someone’s wig being snatched off, we’d get to see Tyra bald-headed, peasy, or otherwise looking a little bit off of the beaten path style-wise. What were we thinking? Instead, of course, Tyra’s hair without the weave was pretty much what many women get weaves to look like – full, straight, healthy shoulder length tresses that have been cared for by the best stylists using the best products for decades. You got us there, girl!
The phrase “cuddle up,” doesn’t really compute in my mind properly, but thanks to a really overactive imagination the idea of spontaneously falling in love with someone who I thought was just a friend has always resonated with me. Maybe…
I’ve stayed quiet on the Chris Brown/Rihanna situation because the thought of one person beating another person until her mouth fills with blood is not very funny and you know I like to crack myself up. Notice that I did…
Latoya Jackson has always been, and will always be, one of the loopiest women to walk the Earth. She is part of the Jackson family after all, so craziness is her birthright, but she consistently redefines crazy with her own brand of low self-esteem and color issues, nutty declarations and press releases, and of course, the delusions of grandeur that must be necessary for her to have released TEN studio albums. The latest bead in this devil’s rosary – “Home,” a song paying tribute to Michael Jackson with proceeds going to his favorite charity. I know the woman is grieving and all, but this is just…well…watch for yourself and let’s discuss.
First of all, since when was Latoya biracial as a child? Her hair never did and
Anyone who’s spent a little time in Philadelphia knows that we have a distinctive culture all our own. One of our dirtier little secrets is Jomar. This small chain of stores sells anything you can think of at a deep discount. Sure most of the stuff is off-brand, damaged, really dirty or just fell off of a truck. So what if my father, who is as notorious a bargain hunter as I am, once found a pair of pants there with a mousetrap stuck to them (you know, the glue kind). And even more of a so what if all of the signs and price tags are produced on ink jet printers in a not very glamorous Times New Roman font? There are bargains in there! A friend of mine spotted this very what-the-eff-worthy display at a Jomar in South Philadelphia.
As soon as she showed me this I hopped in the car to see for myself. What the eff is “ethnic hair deodorizer” and how can I get my hands on some before they inevitably run out?
It happens to most black women. Whether you have relaxed or natural hair, a weave, or braids. I’m talking about white people asking questions and making nutty comments about your hair.
If you spend any time in an environment where blacks are in the minority (i.e. if you have a job), then there has to be someone who wants to touch your ‘fro, another who asks how long your braids took, and another who innocently inquires about your new weave. The effects of humidity and heat styling on Negro hair are lost to most people, and the difference between a “perm” and a “curly perm” has still not been clarified for the masses.
Gary Coleman has gradually made his way onto the short list (ha) of people whose behavior I don’t understand. On the one hand, he’s a deliciously quirky pop culture icon responsible for a catch phrase that, if used in the perfect situation, is still funny twenty-five years after its inception (yes, there is a time and a place for a ‘whatchu talkin’ bout Willis…I just haven’t personally observed one recently). On the other, he’s demonstrated violent and aggressive tendencies repeatedly and of course there was that whole homosexual love affair/rap album debacle. Bottom line – this man continues to bring in the paychecks, whether the joke is on us or on him. His most recent venture: Fry Cup Fortune for New York Fries.
Editors Note: The flashbacks are funny so feel free to bust on me for being such a corn, but the point is just to share my journey.
The Naïve Years. Left to right, me in second and third grades. Those two cornrows were go-to style #1 and the sassy pigtails were #2.
The first time I chemically straightened my hair it was because I really really wanted a perm – in fact I’d wanted one for over a year. I’d had childlike cornrows, a braid bang that needed to be curled with a sponge roller at night, and a press n’ curl that caused other girls at
My favorite thing about it all is that there’s a dude dancing right behind him who would be a fascinating spectacle if only he weren’t being shown up by the one in the t-shirt with the ventilation holes.
“Time flies,” is one of those cliches that becomes truer as I age and quite admittedly become my mother. Case in point: she and I went to see the film Soul Power and realized that we have many common musical…
Racism fascinates me because as much as we’d like to believe that anyone who fervently hates another group is simply stupid, that’s far from the case. The thinking racist knows that it’s useless to be blatantly prejudiced because to successfully push a racist agenda one must be sophisticated, sly, and have a tidy answer for every argument that proves they aren’t really racist. For example, it was just a bit tougher to untangle the subtly racist election cycle claim that Barack Obama was “an elitist” than it’s been to see that the Birthers movement, with its lack of evidence, just doesn’t like black people (or foreigners). Idiot racists don’t quite know how to navigate social taboos and instead try to fool everyone with code words and other racism . . .
Aisha Hinds is striking: brown, bald-headed, and full-lipped, with a deep, crystal clear voice and black and beautiful features. My “a-ha!” moment with Ms. Hinds came courtesy of HBO’s True Blood in her role as voodoo lady/drugstore clerk Ms. Jeanette (a character that was meant to be a good twenty years older than Ms. Hinds, who is thirty-five). Aside from her commanding screen presence, the true pleasure in her performance is her voice.
I need for white girls and fellas to stop getting blackgirl haircuts. Cease and desist. Do not pass Go or collect two hundred dollars. In the immortal words of Full House‘s Uncle Joey “Cut. It. Out.”
Kate Gosselin, I see you. I hate that you’ve been abandoned by your man and are now the single mother of eight screaming kids (as much as that sounds like a stereotypical black woman’s dilemma). But you’re not doing yourself any favors with that characteristically complicated blackgirl haircut. Why on earth would a white woman do such a thing?
Oh, Google Reader, thank you for the share function and for friends like Mr. Smart Guy who share things with me that no one should see, like this “back boobage/diminished glutes,” tragedy posted by Saney Sane over at In Hood Terms. Now I get to share it with you but still pretend that I had nothing to do with spreading it across the Internet. Figuring out this woman’s body is a Rubix Cube level endeavor, so good luck.
Chaka Khan has a distinctive, amazing voice, a dazzling stage presence, and a fascinating life story. But what I really care about is the hair. Ever since I knew there was a Chaka Khan I’ve wanted my hair to be…