Afros y Rizos

Hair has been such a hot topic in 2018. So many people care so much about the hair that's on someone else's head, and I can't seem to grasp why. Braids. Dreadlocks. Apparently hair determines someone's work ethic and professionalism. Naturally curly fro. Hair expresses how wild you are. Clean crew cut or bald. Hair shows your mental state. Blue hair. Purple hair. Pink hair. Hair also determines your maturity. Hair is a woman's crown of glory apparently, and without it, my crown is gone. 

Growing up I didn't even know I was an "Afro-Latina." (The word/classification was foreign to me until a few years ago). My maternal grandmother was a dark, brown skinned Puerto Rican woman, but I came out like my mom -- café con leche, and my family members called me "negrita" because of my complexion and my hair texture. I dreaded getting my hair done every single time. Braids, twists, relaxers, ponytails. It was all just so torturous. The hot comb and I will never see each other again since divorced many years ago. I am scarred for life as I recall the occasional burns to my ear, forehead, and back of my neck. In my mind, my mom just wanted me to have soft, manageable hair like her -- not this curly, kinky, knotty mess. I remember my mom threatened me a few times by saying she was going to shave my hair off if I didn't stop fidgeting when she did my hair.

I got my first relaxer at age 7. My edges were never the same after that. My edges were snatched...for real! 

Afros aren't pretty.

These hair complexes are engrained in us as little brown girls. We weren't taught to embrace the kinks, coils, curls, and curves of our hair. I see this complex in my six year old daughter who has tight wild curls. She wants her hair to be straight and not "so crazy." She wants it to hang and blow in the wind. I will never forget the day I had to read to my daughter's first grade class. She told me she was nervous for me and when I asked her why she told me that she was afraid the kids in her class weren't going to like my hair after I did my big chop. I really wanted to say that I didn't care what a bunch of six year olds thought of my hair, but instead I used that encounter to teach her. I told my daughter that our beauty isn't defined by our hair and if someone doesn't like it, that's just too bad. The way our hair naturally grows out of our head is not a problem. It's just the way it is. A few days later she asked me if I had cancer because I didn't have hair. I think she missed my point. 

It took 30 years for me to love my skin, my hair, my full lips, and all this sabor I was born with. We aren't the little girls we used to be.

When a know-it-all know nothing at all

Lessons From a Recovering Know-It-All

I've always thought myself to be quite the intellect. I love learning and am full of random, useless facts. When I don't know the answer to something, I make it a mission to find the answer and ingrain it in my memory to never forget.  I love to think critically and get my brain juices flowing. I'm one to take charge in group settings and lead to seize the task at hand. 

Too much of anything is a bad thing. 

I remember in my early 20s someone told me they can't tell me anything because the next words out my mouth would be "I know." I admit I always have good intentions, but I've come to learn how I can become overbearing. I became difficult to communicate with. I learned that I sometimes talk too much to show how much I know. I just want to drop some knowledge.

"You best act like you know!"

I used to feel that if I didn't know the answer to something, I was in the wrong. So I had to act as if I knew. When I was growing up I was the one all the kids came to for tutoring. I even helped older kids with their homework. When I was in school, I was always the first one to raise my hand. I felt useful and wanted. Subconsciously, I felt like I always needed to know the answers so people always wanted to have me around. Years later, I learned that most of my youth was lived out being performance driven. I always needed to be on my A-Game, outshining the rest, being a show-off. 

As an adult, I had to deal with the side-effects of not knowing. I didn't take that too well. When life was falling apart and I didn't have the answers, I fell hard. I did not handle rejection well. The feeling of being wrong hurt so bad. The feeling of not having the answer cut like a jagged knife. Why didn't someone tell me something about my arrogance? I wish I learned this lesson earlier in life so I didn't f

a

l
l

 so hard. 

There's a light at the end of the tunnel...

These days I'm recovering from the symptoms of being a former know-it-all. I remain confident in my intellect, but have learned not to belittle others or be condescending in the process. I've learned to embrace my intelligence without aggravating others in the process. It's all about balance. 

Living in Freedom...

I used to think I sucked at life. I remember being in church services where the Pastor would preach about living a life of abundance and freedom. I listened on different ways to "walk in my calling" and "live a life of purpose." I went to events, groups, read books, and listened to sermons about my gifts and calling. I stressed myself out with the amount of time I invested in finding who I was. Great! Another thing to add to my list of things to stress over. I did all of these things to be able to knowwho I was and what exactly I was on this earth for. Walking blindly is scary, especially when anxiety was the blanket I slept with at night. I just wanted to figure it out.

My own thoughts is what consumed me. I pressured myself.

I wanted to feel amazing. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to feel blessed. But, I wasn't even feeling myself. Where was this joy people spoke of? Where was this "blessed" feeling? I realized I didn't experience any of it authentically without any outside sources. I always had the need to be around people even if they were toxic. I always needed to be busy doing something even if it wasn't productive. I wanted to feel healed and free when no one was around. Everyday I woke up wishing I hadn't. This went on for years. My soul was in pain. 

And one day...

I decided I didn't want to feel like this anymore. I didn't want to mope around with my head hanging low. I was tired of trying to act like I was okay while I was falling apart. I had to choose to a mindset and beliefs that were healthy for me. I went to therapy and was even on medication. I was (dys)functioning as a mother, wife, professional, Christian, and friend. This was normal, butI wanted to be balanced and live in a state of equilibrium so bad.  I woke up one morning and snatched my power back and felt stronger than ever before. I refused to spend another day with my mind on 100. This is why I believe in having a healthy mind. It controls every single thing in our life. We don't just have it all together all the time. I've learned to live in my truth. I've accepted the crap I've done and experienced, took responsibility for my actions, and decided not to hold onto it. I released them and they are no longer factors in my life. 

I'm so grateful to feel mentally sane and healthy. I've come such a long way and have become my own biggest fan.

And there I was...

Apparently hair is supposed to be a woman's crown of glory. It's supposed to define femininity and beauty.  But...

#shorthairdontcare #nohairdontcare #bigchop

I've gone through phases of different styles and colors in my hair. More recently, I've donned a precious pixie. It was curled, colored, tapered, slicked. It worked for me all around until a product didn't agree with my hair and it began to break and literally fall apart. I had tears of anguish and disbelief. This came shortly after my bout of confidence during my "journey of self-love." This is what I got for professing that I was beautiful even if I was bald. My false sense of confidence did me in good. Did I really believe this? Was this karma? My scalp was hurting. I saturated my hair in coconut oil and wrapped it up in my head scarf because coconut oil is life.

I text my husband who's a barber and told him I needed all my hair buzzed off. He so lovingly said let's just cut off the damaged parts. I sent him a picture and said "It's all damaged parts." I think he was more distraught than I was. I was trying to be optimistic and boast a false sense of confidence that I had. I reiterated that I just needed it all buzzed off and went to sleep.

Monday morning. 
I text my husband while at work and he told me to go to the shop after I picked up the kids from school. I showed up with my head scarf as he finished a client and my heart began to sink at the thought of being close to bald, but I tried to play it cool. Once it was my turn and I exposed the "damaged goods" I felt my husband's heart drop. He had to cut it down to a 2 which is 1/4 of an inch. I was damn near bald. I have never felt so physically exposed and vulnerable. All I could see was my face. No makeup. No hair. Just my face. I wanted to cry but held it, wrapped up my head in my scarf, and headed straight to buy a wig.

I hid behind head scarves and a wig for a couple of weeks. Whenever I was home I treated my hair (or lack thereof) with argan oil, biotin & collagen conditioner, Jamaican castor oil, and took a biotin pill every morning. I wondered when I would wake up with a head of hair so I could look pretty again.
A few of my friends saw my head after my big chop. They loved it. I got daily affirmations from them --encouraging words, pictures, and funny memes. Did I mention that women are amazing? A few days, on a Sunday, I decided that I didn't want to cover my head. I put on some highlighter, mascara, matte lipstick, and threw on the biggest earrings I owned. I took a selfie (or two... or a few) and decided "Social media so I know it's real."  And it was at that moment that I felt emotionally liberated. I put on a new attitude, a new outlook. I didn't care how many likes/comments I got. I felt unshakeable. #BlackGirlMagic is real. There I was. Just me and my face.

None of this was on purpose, but let me share what I've learned in this process. 

There are some things in life that aren't going to react well with our spirit. They are damaged goods that need to be cut off so we can be liberated. We hold on to certain things because they provide a sense of security, and at times it can be a false sense of security. Sometimes we hide behind a false sense of positivity when we are really on a downhill spiral. Embrace where you are. Embrace the process. Feel it. Then keep it moving. 

What damaged goods do you need to cut off to be liberated? 

Breaking Barriers I Created Myself

There were some things that I promised myself I would and would not do as I entered my 30s. One was to live unapologetically and to embrace who I am. I've walked on eggshells most of my life and always aimed to please people. Yes, I have always been a people pleaser.  Admittedly, I always cared what people thought of me. I also have always erred on the side of being conservative with my attire, behavior, speech, appearance, and my views. It always mattered what I looked like on the outside.

On December 31, 2017, I got inked. 

Not only did I sit through an almost 3 hour session, but it didn't even hurt like I thought it would. Oddly enough the process was somehow therapeutic. I originally wanted it on my back but then realized that I wouldn't be able to see it, especially if I had to take care of it. But I needed to make a bold statement for myself so I decided on my upper arm. Now I can flex whenever I look in the mirror when I admire the beautiful art on my arm. My anxiety was on high after the tattoo artist laid the template on my arm. Even after having three babies I consider myself to have a low pain tolerance. And then he began. I laughed after I realized the pain was not really pain at all, but just a constant, annoying, pinching pain. And BAM! I was officially and permanently inked with a red, thorny rose shattering through a glass encasement.  

Yes, it's the enchanted rose from my favorite Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. 

I love the new piece of art on my body. It reminds me that I am fragile, yet bold; gentle, yet capable of shattering through any barrier. I do not have to conform to my surroundings. I can think outside of the box. Elegant but tough. I am learning to look at myself through a different lens -- not only loving myself, but admiring myself and who I am as a woman. After all, I have to see the golden in me before I expect anyone else to.

What are you ready to do this year? What bold statement are you ready to make? What big step are you ready to take?

Plan that trip. Write that book. Create that LLC. Start that blog. Take that test. Enroll in that program.
Take the plunge. It will be worth it.

-Stephanie