Like any other ‘deep’ sister, I struggled with bought hair, especially the weave. I spent years judging girls who wore weaves, not really understanding why I did – it just sounded like the deeply right thing to do. But I couldn’t help but always notice how much fun those girls always seemed to be having. How they always looked stylish, flicking their hair behind their ears in that carefree way that I- and them -had only seen blondes and brunettes do. So when one day, I started drowning in my own depth, I decided to go blonde the only way a black woman can, without actually going blonde. I got a weave. I remember guiltily and gleefully staring back at my reflection in the mirror, my complexion starkly contrasted by the strange texture of ‘human’ hair. Already, without even stepping out of the hair salon, the fun had found me. I knew I was going to have a ball having a weave. Unfortunately though, I didn’t get as much support from my soul sistah crew, who spent hours analyzing my hairstyle and what it said about my regression while I…flicked my weave my hair behind my ears, of course. The funniest thing about having a weave is how much reaction it causes – it’s the Lil’ Wayne (I’m still gonna blog about him!) of hairstyles – you love to hate it but you kinda like it. Especially guys…deep brothers front for it like it’s the worst thing in the world to have a receipt for hair but the ones I’ve spoken to have all admitted that whenever they see a chick with a weave, they get a little excited, like they wanna take her home, flip her over and have her from the back. (Yep, soul brothers have sex too!). The script I liked to flip on them though was actually knowing what I was talking about in a conversation (because the assumption is always that if you have a weave you must not be too bright). But I also realized, just like Ms Thandiswa Mazwai said about being thin, with a weave, I was only interested in being desirable, not interesting. I paid more attention to my characteristics than my character. So eventually, I knew that I wouldn’t spend my life in a weave (just like I wouldn’t spend my life in any one hairstyle) and moved on to find out what other hairstyles could tell me about myself.
I Am My Hair Phase 3: C'mon and braid my hair...
Friday, July 18, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
I Am My Hair Phase One: The Chiskop Chick
I love India.Arie. She speaks to me in ways which conversations with people I'm closest to, haven’t at times. Her wisdom and insights shows me truths that I’m sometimes to caught up in living in my own head to feel. When she sang: 'My mama told me a lady ain't what she wears but what she knows,' in Video Girl, I knew that, even though I wasn't the 'pantyhose-wearing type' of lady, I was a woman worth knowing. When she serenaded her Brown Skinned man in the park, asking him where his people are from, I traced the origins of my brown skinned man on the kinky hair that curled his chest. When she lamented being ready for love and it not being ready for her, I accepted that it’s OK for you to love someone who's not ready to love you…and let them go. Finally, most recently, when she flew in the Wings of Forgiveness for a man who had given her everything to her and then heart achingly tore it all away, it dawned me that just like she croons: 'If Nelson Mandela can forgive his oppressors then surely I can forgive you for your passions.'
But there's one song that I've always sung along to, 'inside knowing it wasn't true (for me). I Am Not My Hair. Having been brought up to believe that hair is a woman's crown, I spent years trying to live up to this ideal – relaxing my hair when I could finally tell my mom: ‘No, I would not like to do the perm and have gel dripping from my ears and forehead!’ In my early teens I sported the ‘Toni Braxton’ (relax, cut and tong) because I really wanted to look like her and the guy who was the master of the Toni Braxton cut at Le Curl hair salon was ultra-cute. Back then, I exuded what Ms India.Arie would sing about later - I wasn’t my hair, my hairstyles were just that – styles – they came and went.
But when I came back from a coming of age holiday in Cape Town in 1998, I cut off all my hair as a symbol of new beginnings. I’d finally plucked up the courage to get out of a relationship that had passed its’ sell-by date. In that year I was also to discover the rebel in me – signaled in school by promptly being sent to detention for my shocking and attention-grabbing hairstyle; signaled in my life by my showing norm and societal expectations the middle finger in every way; signaled in my growth by learning the other side of me – the exciting but dangerously destructive side that gets off on treading way too closely to the edge. Over the years, my chiskop has always been a metaphor for change in my life…. the thing I did to give me courage to do something new … or say goodbye to something old. For guys, the chiskopped me showed off my ghetto-ness – the girl you didn’t dare mess with but asked her friends for her number.
What happens when a deep sister sheds her fro for a weave? Find out in I Am My Hair Phase 2: Getting Beweaved
But there's one song that I've always sung along to, 'inside knowing it wasn't true (for me). I Am Not My Hair. Having been brought up to believe that hair is a woman's crown, I spent years trying to live up to this ideal – relaxing my hair when I could finally tell my mom: ‘No, I would not like to do the perm and have gel dripping from my ears and forehead!’ In my early teens I sported the ‘Toni Braxton’ (relax, cut and tong) because I really wanted to look like her and the guy who was the master of the Toni Braxton cut at Le Curl hair salon was ultra-cute. Back then, I exuded what Ms India.Arie would sing about later - I wasn’t my hair, my hairstyles were just that – styles – they came and went.
But when I came back from a coming of age holiday in Cape Town in 1998, I cut off all my hair as a symbol of new beginnings. I’d finally plucked up the courage to get out of a relationship that had passed its’ sell-by date. In that year I was also to discover the rebel in me – signaled in school by promptly being sent to detention for my shocking and attention-grabbing hairstyle; signaled in my life by my showing norm and societal expectations the middle finger in every way; signaled in my growth by learning the other side of me – the exciting but dangerously destructive side that gets off on treading way too closely to the edge. Over the years, my chiskop has always been a metaphor for change in my life…. the thing I did to give me courage to do something new … or say goodbye to something old. For guys, the chiskopped me showed off my ghetto-ness – the girl you didn’t dare mess with but asked her friends for her number.
What happens when a deep sister sheds her fro for a weave? Find out in I Am My Hair Phase 2: Getting Beweaved
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Facing Fear and Finding Freedom
I think my calling is to use my life's experiences to help others heal, especially women and young girls. Our gender, for all its power and majesty is also so broken and this brokenness manifests itself in various ways in our everyday life and limits us from fulfilling our greatness as a generation and individuals. I'm one of these women and my solace in this is knowing that even though I am broken, God has all the pieces and he is in the midst of fixing me. Over the next few posts, I will be discussing more of these universal topics in the hope that somewhere, somehow, someone is touched and a healing conversation is begun.
FIGHTING FEAR
For as long I can remember I have been scared. Fear in my life showed up as a lump in my throat, a knotted pain in my stomach, a chill in my back, a spasm in my abdomen. First fear trapped me in a corner, disabling me from doing the very thing that it made me afraid to do. Then over the years, I learnt to use it as my fuel - fear nourishes courage - as the adage goes. I learnt to measure the things worth doing in life by the fear I felt for them - falling in love, learning something new, going to a new country, having a conversation with someone new. I thought I had conquered fear and made it my friend but it wasn't until I read One day My Soul Just Opened Up by Iyanla Vanzant where she speaks about fear wearing many faces - laziness is the fear of success, failure or both for instance, that I realised that I had not in fact won this foe over, it just came to the party dressed differently, eluding the bouncer at the door.
Over the past few months, I've sat in fear's claustrophobic embrace, not moving an inch and allowing it to take over my life. Instead of it helping me overcome itself, it dictated my life - what I didn't do, didn't say, wasn't. It was only on the way home to East London, my retreat, when a voice in my head said: 'Fight.' All this time I'd thought that I had to just own fear and that would be it. But owning fear also means fighting it...with faith and faith is greatest shown in action. I know this is sounding preachy but I've also recently made peace with that I am an spiritually interrogative soul so everything I do, say, am must be grounded or explicable in Divine Wisdom. So again, I decided to change my response to fear. if it wasn't going anywhere, then me and it were going to sit down and have a mojito. Everytime I felt the fear of something that commanded more out of me, I surrendered. Everytime a little voice tells me it can't be done, isn't meant to be, won't be - I surrender. I tell it: 'That too is OK, because it will be God teaching us and in God's teachings there is unconditional love, so we can only grow great.' I think that gives me freedom from fear. I know that for the next while, I am going to wake up with fear attacking me from every angle but I pray to remember to surrender, even if that's the only thing I can do at that moment.
I read something freeing in a book called Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, that I'd like to share with you:
INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM
Life's metaphors are God's instructions.
You have just climbed up and above the roof. There is nothing between you and the Infinite. Now, Let Go.
The day is ending. It's time for something new that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now Let, Go.
Your wish for resolution was a prayer. Your being here is God's response. Let go, and watch the stars come out - on the outstide and outside.
With all your heart, ask for grace, and let go.
With all your heart, forgive him, FORGIVE YOURSELF, and Let Him Go.
Let your intentions be freedom from useless suffering. Then, Let Go.
Watch the heat of day pass into the cool night. Let Go.
When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It's safe. Let Go.
When the past has passed from you at last, Let Go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With Great Joy.
FIGHTING FEAR
For as long I can remember I have been scared. Fear in my life showed up as a lump in my throat, a knotted pain in my stomach, a chill in my back, a spasm in my abdomen. First fear trapped me in a corner, disabling me from doing the very thing that it made me afraid to do. Then over the years, I learnt to use it as my fuel - fear nourishes courage - as the adage goes. I learnt to measure the things worth doing in life by the fear I felt for them - falling in love, learning something new, going to a new country, having a conversation with someone new. I thought I had conquered fear and made it my friend but it wasn't until I read One day My Soul Just Opened Up by Iyanla Vanzant where she speaks about fear wearing many faces - laziness is the fear of success, failure or both for instance, that I realised that I had not in fact won this foe over, it just came to the party dressed differently, eluding the bouncer at the door.
Over the past few months, I've sat in fear's claustrophobic embrace, not moving an inch and allowing it to take over my life. Instead of it helping me overcome itself, it dictated my life - what I didn't do, didn't say, wasn't. It was only on the way home to East London, my retreat, when a voice in my head said: 'Fight.' All this time I'd thought that I had to just own fear and that would be it. But owning fear also means fighting it...with faith and faith is greatest shown in action. I know this is sounding preachy but I've also recently made peace with that I am an spiritually interrogative soul so everything I do, say, am must be grounded or explicable in Divine Wisdom. So again, I decided to change my response to fear. if it wasn't going anywhere, then me and it were going to sit down and have a mojito. Everytime I felt the fear of something that commanded more out of me, I surrendered. Everytime a little voice tells me it can't be done, isn't meant to be, won't be - I surrender. I tell it: 'That too is OK, because it will be God teaching us and in God's teachings there is unconditional love, so we can only grow great.' I think that gives me freedom from fear. I know that for the next while, I am going to wake up with fear attacking me from every angle but I pray to remember to surrender, even if that's the only thing I can do at that moment.
I read something freeing in a book called Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, that I'd like to share with you:
INSTRUCTIONS FOR FREEDOM
Life's metaphors are God's instructions.
You have just climbed up and above the roof. There is nothing between you and the Infinite. Now, Let Go.
The day is ending. It's time for something new that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now Let, Go.
Your wish for resolution was a prayer. Your being here is God's response. Let go, and watch the stars come out - on the outstide and outside.
With all your heart, ask for grace, and let go.
With all your heart, forgive him, FORGIVE YOURSELF, and Let Him Go.
Let your intentions be freedom from useless suffering. Then, Let Go.
Watch the heat of day pass into the cool night. Let Go.
When the karma of a relationship is done, only love remains. It's safe. Let Go.
When the past has passed from you at last, Let Go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With Great Joy.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
A tribute to Ashanti Kakaza
Ashanti Kakaza
Born: 08 August 1984
Died: 25 June 2008
'When a young person's life suddenly stops, life stops. Questions run through our minds about the injustice of the a life cut so short. But, in a way that we will never understand, she has served her purpose and we serve as her witnesses.'
Ashanti’s death has made me take stock of my life. It’s funny that her death, someone whom I wasn’t close to in the end, has impacted me in the way that no-one’s death since perhaps my father’s has impacted me. But then again last night, I was thinking that maybe I was close to her - in a way I never knew until now. Someone reminded me that in high school, I co-wrote a play that detailed her life to the tee – in the way she lived and the way she died- and the most hectic thing was that she was the lead actress in the play. I remember why we chose her – her voice. It was true and present…it gave her an ethereal divinity and she seemed almost fragile standing on that stage and performing that big role. And somehow, I think she has guided my talent to write and depict life and love through stories. She once wrote to me that I inspired her to be a better person, that even if she were to die today or tomorrow, I should know that I impacted her life. I didn’t take it seriously then – I hate being put on a pedestal because it makes me feel like I can’t be human but over the last week, since we heard of her passing – memories of her have been coming to me. I think she’s inspired me to write a book about us – The Greats, as we were called in high school. We always joked that I would be the one that wrote about us and our shenanigans and up until I met Zelipa Zulu who opened me up to a world of imagination, research through travel and just going to where you’ve never been with your writing, I didn’t really think I had that much of a story to tell. But on Friday, sitting in the bus with my friend Vangz , she teaching me all the lessons God is teaching her and humbling me to His infinite and divine love, I started feeling and seeing the characters form in my head. The five of us - each with their own story to tell, intricacies that make them up, journeys that join and divide us. I want to write this book as a tribute to her – Ashanti, who believed in my talent when no-one, myself included else even saw it. I thank God for her life – no matter how shortlived it was, she fulfilled the purpose God had planted in her soul – maybe that was to re-awaken us to our greatness. She has done her work and we serve as her witnesses.
Born: 08 August 1984
Died: 25 June 2008
'When a young person's life suddenly stops, life stops. Questions run through our minds about the injustice of the a life cut so short. But, in a way that we will never understand, she has served her purpose and we serve as her witnesses.'
Ashanti’s death has made me take stock of my life. It’s funny that her death, someone whom I wasn’t close to in the end, has impacted me in the way that no-one’s death since perhaps my father’s has impacted me. But then again last night, I was thinking that maybe I was close to her - in a way I never knew until now. Someone reminded me that in high school, I co-wrote a play that detailed her life to the tee – in the way she lived and the way she died- and the most hectic thing was that she was the lead actress in the play. I remember why we chose her – her voice. It was true and present…it gave her an ethereal divinity and she seemed almost fragile standing on that stage and performing that big role. And somehow, I think she has guided my talent to write and depict life and love through stories. She once wrote to me that I inspired her to be a better person, that even if she were to die today or tomorrow, I should know that I impacted her life. I didn’t take it seriously then – I hate being put on a pedestal because it makes me feel like I can’t be human but over the last week, since we heard of her passing – memories of her have been coming to me. I think she’s inspired me to write a book about us – The Greats, as we were called in high school. We always joked that I would be the one that wrote about us and our shenanigans and up until I met Zelipa Zulu who opened me up to a world of imagination, research through travel and just going to where you’ve never been with your writing, I didn’t really think I had that much of a story to tell. But on Friday, sitting in the bus with my friend Vangz , she teaching me all the lessons God is teaching her and humbling me to His infinite and divine love, I started feeling and seeing the characters form in my head. The five of us - each with their own story to tell, intricacies that make them up, journeys that join and divide us. I want to write this book as a tribute to her – Ashanti, who believed in my talent when no-one, myself included else even saw it. I thank God for her life – no matter how shortlived it was, she fulfilled the purpose God had planted in her soul – maybe that was to re-awaken us to our greatness. She has done her work and we serve as her witnesses.
Out of the Loop PLUS TWTATS: I'm Still In Love With My Ex
This past weekend, I went home to East London for a friend's funeral. There is no 3g connection in Mdantsane so I've been out of the loop since Friday.
In any case, here is the last installment of Things We're Too Afraid To Say: I'm Still in Love with My Ex
I was in a two year and nine month-old relationship and things were going well but I was also falling for my ex (we were high school sweethearts, he was my first, the one guy I'd truly loved and we'd been communicating all these years). It's weird when you find yourself in a place where your mind knows you shouldn't, but your heart couldn't be bothered and just wants to enjoy the buzz it gets every time he calls. July 2007 was finally crunch time - no more sneaking around and enjoying forbidden pleasures. No more ignoring the call with the special ringtone, no more trying to pretend to be at places you aren’t. It was time to make a choice and stick to it.
I took a good look at myself and this was one of those defining moments, when I realized who and what I am. I will do anything to make sure that I live my life the way I want. I wasn't prepared to be held ransom by the fact that good or bad things had happened in the past. I had a part to play in what happened to me and therefore no one can lay claim to "making me happy." On that basis I made a decision to get back together with my ex. It wasn't that easy but it was damn worth it – eight months into the relationship and we're already making plans to get married. It may not be all roses and cherries all the time, but it is exactly where I want to be.
In any case, here is the last installment of Things We're Too Afraid To Say: I'm Still in Love with My Ex
I was in a two year and nine month-old relationship and things were going well but I was also falling for my ex (we were high school sweethearts, he was my first, the one guy I'd truly loved and we'd been communicating all these years). It's weird when you find yourself in a place where your mind knows you shouldn't, but your heart couldn't be bothered and just wants to enjoy the buzz it gets every time he calls. July 2007 was finally crunch time - no more sneaking around and enjoying forbidden pleasures. No more ignoring the call with the special ringtone, no more trying to pretend to be at places you aren’t. It was time to make a choice and stick to it.
I took a good look at myself and this was one of those defining moments, when I realized who and what I am. I will do anything to make sure that I live my life the way I want. I wasn't prepared to be held ransom by the fact that good or bad things had happened in the past. I had a part to play in what happened to me and therefore no one can lay claim to "making me happy." On that basis I made a decision to get back together with my ex. It wasn't that easy but it was damn worth it – eight months into the relationship and we're already making plans to get married. It may not be all roses and cherries all the time, but it is exactly where I want to be.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Things We're Too Afraid To Say Part 2 - 'I choose to be single'
For me, it was a matter of lights being dimmed slowly until eventually they were blown out completely. Every time I was reminded that I don’t have a partner, that I’m not part of a couple, that no one calls me their ‘lovey’ and that that made me less of a social participant, the lights were being dimmed.
But last week the lights were blacked out on a long weekend away to the Waterberg alone. I was looking forward to a road trip listening to my favourite tunes without apology, time in the bush surrounded by the symphonic silence of nature with only my thoughts knocking noisily around my head. Good food, time at the spa to unknot the tension, no guilt about staring at the sky, only to ponder the stars. Bliss.
At dinner, the lights dimmed once more as tables joining the dining room passed me with looks of terrible sympathy. Waiter after ranger after maitre d’ kept asking if I was okay – seemingly I couldn’t enjoy myself alone. By the end of dinner when I went outside to finish my glass of red and smuggle a cigarette to mouth, I, too had started to doubt how I could possibly have been having even a small amount of fun on my own. I retired to my suite and as I sat in my bed for several minutes wondering whether something was wrong with me, I almost lost a sense of myself.
Driving back home the next day, looking forward to the rest of the weekend by myself – I realised that I was comfortable spending time by myself, even in public. It was other people who made me pity my state of solitude.
I’m 30 and single and might never get married but I refuse to spend time with an unsuitable man just so I can lubricate social networks. I’m so used to being single and finding joy in its freedom and can’t believe how uncomfortable my status makes other people feel. I cannot bear the unhappiness that often men and women endure to get their stamp of approval to come on board two by two by two onto the park of acceptance.Yesterday I went for a walk with a friend of mine and I was glad to be in his company. I looked over to a girl sitting and reading a book, by herself in ankle-length grass, under the bluest sky we’ve seen in Joburg in the last few days. I thought to myself – “Actually, I’d be just as happy over there.”
But last week the lights were blacked out on a long weekend away to the Waterberg alone. I was looking forward to a road trip listening to my favourite tunes without apology, time in the bush surrounded by the symphonic silence of nature with only my thoughts knocking noisily around my head. Good food, time at the spa to unknot the tension, no guilt about staring at the sky, only to ponder the stars. Bliss.
At dinner, the lights dimmed once more as tables joining the dining room passed me with looks of terrible sympathy. Waiter after ranger after maitre d’ kept asking if I was okay – seemingly I couldn’t enjoy myself alone. By the end of dinner when I went outside to finish my glass of red and smuggle a cigarette to mouth, I, too had started to doubt how I could possibly have been having even a small amount of fun on my own. I retired to my suite and as I sat in my bed for several minutes wondering whether something was wrong with me, I almost lost a sense of myself.
Driving back home the next day, looking forward to the rest of the weekend by myself – I realised that I was comfortable spending time by myself, even in public. It was other people who made me pity my state of solitude.
I’m 30 and single and might never get married but I refuse to spend time with an unsuitable man just so I can lubricate social networks. I’m so used to being single and finding joy in its freedom and can’t believe how uncomfortable my status makes other people feel. I cannot bear the unhappiness that often men and women endure to get their stamp of approval to come on board two by two by two onto the park of acceptance.Yesterday I went for a walk with a friend of mine and I was glad to be in his company. I looked over to a girl sitting and reading a book, by herself in ankle-length grass, under the bluest sky we’ve seen in Joburg in the last few days. I thought to myself – “Actually, I’d be just as happy over there.”
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Midweek Fashion Find:Steve Madden and Mantsho
The Apprentice SA co-winner and businesswoman Zanele Batyashe once told me that when she's wearing a killer pair of heels, she feels like she can take over the world. This morning, after attending the breakfast launch for American shoe brand Steve Madden at the Melrose Arch hotel, and receiving a stunning pair of closed high heel pat leather pumps, I found myself totally agreeing with her. Though they served us cocktail food which was way too rich to eat mid-morning, the launch was great. Apparently the shoes will retail between R399 - R699 going up the price tier as the brand grows in SA. Still have to find out where they'll be sold, though. True Love fashion ed, Mpumi Ntintili-Sinxoto looking stunning post her maternity as well as O's fashion ed, Primrose Moloantoa who looked effortlessly stylish as usual. It's amazing how many women in the industry are so tired of working for other people and everyone is slowly but surely hustling to do their own thing. I think whether or not all our business ideas succeed, bulldog ambition and hard work towards our dreams can only make us stronger as a generation.
Backtracking to the weekend, I sale hopped with my sister from Newtown (Maria Mc Cloy's earring stand at the Zasekhaya Market) to Rosebank (The Mantsho Winter Sale at Capitol). At both sales, I managed to calm myself down to buying just one or two items - music note shaped copper earrings at Maria's sale and a stunning off-white goddess gown with a rouged bustier and flowing bottom. STUNNING! Palesa (Mantsho creator) gave us a glimpse of her summer range by wearing a tailored tiered bubble-esque skirt with a high waist. I love how she intricately and carefully constructs her clothing that it looks like wearable art and you KNOW no-one else will look like that, so you feel extra gorgeous in a Mantsho outfit. Even if you're not feeling up to the party, her outfit always give you the chic chutzpah you need to work it anywhere. I certainly have my front row seat reserved at her show at Sanlam Fashion Week in August.
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