Can You See Me?

Hello, I'm MJ.  I am a Black woman with naturally kinky-curly hair.  What that means for me is, I can do all kinds of badass things with my hair:  braid it (with or without extensions), straighten it (with or without chemicals), wear a weave (long or short), lock it, fro, twist or coil it out amongst other things.  What that means for you, and when I say 'you' I mean White people, is you get to not say a gotdamn thing about it.  The problem is, a great deal of you have somehow missed this memo and feel you must comment on EVERY fucking thing I do with MY hair.  If it was coming from a place of genuine respect and admiration, fine.  But if you're asking or commenting based on your own personal feelings or (lacking) knowledge of the curious nature of Black folk, I'm not with it.  Confused?  Let me help you out.

Example 1

Try saying:  Hey MJ, your hair looks nice.

Instead of:  OH MY GOD!  Look at your hair!!  You changed it.  Every day you change your hair.  I can't keep up.  Now what's this?  (coming close to inspect my hair) I like this.  The other way you wear it, is okay, but this, I like this.  You should keep it like this.  THIS is cute.

My mental commentary:  bitch I didn't ask you!

Example 2

Try saying:  Hey MJ, your hair looks nice.

Instead of:  You really wear that well.  See I can't do that with my hair.  You're lucky.  You have cool hair.  I just have this hair.

My mental commentary:  you're being patronizing.  Get out my face.

Example 3

Try saying:  Hey MJ, your hair looks nice.

Instead of:  Now, how did you do that?  Did you do it yourself, or did someone else do that for you? That's interesting.

My mental commentary:  No my hair is not "interesting", my hair is wonderful.

Example 4

Try saying:  Hey MJ, your hair looks nice.

Instead of:  Oh, you changed your hair.  Do you like it?

OR

Instead of:  Now which hairstyle do you like the best?

My mental commentary:  bitch, yes I like my hair, that's why I'm wearing it this way!  I like ALL of my hairstyles, that's why I wear them!

Example 5

Try saying:  Hey MJ, your hair looks nice.

Instead of:  Is that all your hair?

My mental commentary:  that's rude as hell, and it's none of your damn business, you uncouth son of a bitch.  Furthermore, yes it is!  

These are real conversations, that tend to happen to me at work (a lot).  There are people who I can pass on the street or smile and wave to at the nearest Starbucks, who will look at me strange, divert their eyes without speaking and then ask me to do something in the office 15 minutes later.  I have worked with people who will pass my desk several times in a week, but see them outside the office and they look surprised when I tell them where I work.  "Oh, you're the one with the hair."  Yeah bitch, that's me.  Last night I went to a party and a girl who I was on a committee with for an entire year, re-introduced herself (as always) like she had never seen me before.  I chuckled and told her, "yes, I know, you have introduced yourself to me a THOUSAND times.  Every time I see you, you introduce yourself."  She awkwardly laughed it off and was like, "well I only came to like, four meetings."  I'm thinking, and I came to all but one, so again, we've met.  I sometimes get the, "I didn't recognize you, you changed your hair."  Yes, the hair may be different, but the face is still the same.  Are you just looking at me, instead of SEEING me?  Seeing the person I am.  As opposed to the caricature you have in your head.

It may sound like I'm overreaching, but the truth is, this is how racism and stereotypes are perpetuated.  The reason some cops are regularly harassing and KILLING young black men, is because they don't SEE these men.  They can't imagine they have mothers, or wives, family or friends.  They can't fathom they could be upstanding citizens or that someone would care about whether they live or died.  It's the reason people get upset to see brothas burn down a local drugstore, but don't understand that the anger resulted from the fact that a young man's spine was damn-near detached.  As a culture, you don't know anything about us.  Why are you so curious with Black hair?  You don't have any Black friends?  You have never been close enough to a Black woman to ask curious, yet thoughtful questions about the history of our styling and hair regimens?  If that's the case, it's fine, but don't embarrass me by shouting over the filing cabinet, a stupid question or comment.  Don't bring your friends over to comment on my hair, like I'm not standing/sitting right here.  I'm not a museum exhibit or a zoo animal.  Utilize Big Sister Google and investigate on your on time.

Scientists have traced the entire human race back to one Black woman in Africa.  We, Black people - Black women, have shared this planet with you all since the beginning of time.  Why are you still so intrigued by us?  My advice is to get off your high horse and stop looking and start seeing.  

The Brain

So I started daydreaming about how I'm going to successfully complete the juicing portion of the cleanse I'm starting the beginning of August.  Then I thought how nice it would be to add cherries to the mix, but where can you find pitted black cherries? That led me to Google, which brought me to Williams-Sonoma who have an OXO Cherry & Olive Pitter. But while looking at that item I discovered their 'Burger Shop' which carries a Stuffed Hamburger Press with Lifter. It was accompanied by a picture of cheddar cheese stuffed burgers.  A1: I'll take each- the cherry Pitter, hamburger press AND the burger itself. B2: Am I the only one who is often captivated by Williams-Sonoma  catalogs?  C3: This is 'distracted' at it's finest ladies and gentlemen!  A sample of how my brain works...

The Pitter

http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/oxo-olive-and-cherry-pitter/

The Press

http://www.williams-sonoma.com/products/stuffed-hamburger-press-with-lifter/

Disbanded

The creator has disbanded this group...

This is the text message I received two Thursday nights ago.  For about a year, I was part of a group text started by a friend.  The group consisted of high friends I became reacquainted with in 2010.  We had connected on Facebook and started hanging out together.  Whether at someone's house for the holiday or while celebrating a birthday, we always had fun.  For all intents and purposes, the group was solid- or so I thought.  Fast forward to last November, around the Thanksgiving holiday.  I noticed that one of the friends had de-friended me on Facebook.  That was odd.  I only knew because I had tried to tag this person in a comment to no avail.  When I went to the person's Facebook page, I was virtually given the long arm- the site asking if I knew this person.  I thought I did.  Apparently I did not. 

I immediately called this girl, who did not answer, but instead texted me stating that she was on another call and would call me back.  She never did.  I knew something was wrong.  Unfortunately, we as a society have become so ingrained and dependent on social media, that you can safely take social cues from your interactions or lack thereof on social juggernauts like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and such.  I knew that this individual whom I had hung out with in person both in the group or separately on our own, was sending me a major message:  We are no longer friends.  I could easily go through the timeline of awkward events that solidified this truth, but I do not want to give anyone undue credit for a very small sub-chapter in my life.  That being said, when I confronted the person about the unfriending, she, in giving me her reasons for dissolving our friendship in a very passive-aggressive way, said that she did not want to "be a shit starter" nor did she want to upset the group by saying anything to the others.  I, being the ever-loyal-sometimes-to-a-fault type of person that I am, followed her lead and decided not to mention anything to the other girls either.  With the exception of a very vague, non-descript, yet, in context re-telling of a small portion of the entire conversation with no names mentioned to exactly one person, I have, to this day not spoken a word about the incident to anyone else within the group.  My side of the story has not been provided.  I have not discussed with anyone my thoughts and feelings about the situation.  Or the details involved.  From the bizarre and reduced interactions, whether on social media or via personal/direct texts and phone calls, I have the feeling I was the only one who kept up her end of the deal.

Overall, my role and positive position in the group's dynamic has changed.  This obvious fact has not made me lose any sleep, but it has caused a bit of anxiety whenever I would receive a text from the group.  I wanted to pull away and no longer interact with the girl who had initiated all of this.  I hate to be uncomfortable and hide my true feelings in an effort to be the "bigger person".  I would rather disassociate myself from certain activities.  Like recently a get-together that was to take place at a restaurant, had been moved at the last minute to the girl's house.  How crazy would that be?  Hey, I know you don't like me, but I decided to show up anyway.  What should I bring- wine?  Um, no.  Since my gut tells me I have been discussed, I am confused as to how this became a suitable option anyway.  If everyone wants to keep the peace.  Why not host events in neutral settings?  Maybe that's me just overthinking things with my analytical self.  I do still have ongoing and positive contact with one of the girls.  For that, I am grateful.  She has not changed and I am appreciative. 

Which brings me to that final group text message.  It gave me a peaceful, internal giggle.  I thought it fitting that the term "creator" was used.  Sometimes, God will rock the boat to get your attention, to move you in a different direction.  Because He does not come down physically to talk to us and hand feed us His plan, we have to listen and listen carefully.  I, in an effort to flex my loyal friendship skills, trying to build upon relationships, which maybe should have stayed more casual, missed key early warnings.  I can look back on conversations with the individual and think, that was a red flag.  That should have been your sign that this was not going to end well.  Hindsight is indeed 20/20.  At the time, what I thought were little quirks, I now know were future problems being formed.  Molding resentment towards me for things that are less about me and more about her.  But that text though.  The group has indeed disbanded.  I still enjoy hanging out with that one remaining friend, but I would not be surprised if I do not receive invites to events from the others.  I am confident in saying I do not believe I have done anything intentional to alienate the group, but at this time, it seems we have run our course as friends. 

When I told another girlfriend the complete story, she said, "yeah, you've been iced out."  She continued with a shrug, "besides going to high school with these people, what else do you have in common with them?"  Not much, if anything.  She went on to share some of her own woes with friends who did not stand the test of time.  Friendships can be difficult; they should not be, but they can.  Friendships with women can be even more complicated.  You mix in the insecurities a lot of us deal with that come with trying to be perfect, polite or humble at all costs, and you have the recipe for a troublesome friendship.  I like meeting new people and gaining new friends, but situations like this remind me to tread lightly and keep my eyes open.  Keeping your friend list short and tight seems like the best answer, but even that can be a bit non-progressive when you think about it.  How do you grow, if you have the same group of individuals as friends and never look outside of your circle to let others in your world? 

Whatever the case, I have learned a real strong lesson about taking time, gaining trust and what true friendship really means.  It is not fickle.  Tell me you all did not stop talking to me because someone else stopped talking to me.  It is not random.  I thought a genuine friendship was built, however, it must not have been important enough for you to tell me your feelings in person or at least over the phone.  You just deleted me- via Facebook no less.  It can only thrive if both parties are on the same level mentally and emotionally.  When someone tells you they are crazy, please believe them.  Are there any groups or friendships that you are part of that need to be disbanded?  Do tell.

Mirror Mirror

Have you even known someone who, let's say, seems to mirror you?  I don't want to use the term, copy or imitate.  I think, "mirror" is a better way of describing it.  I know someone who seems, and I could be wrong or paranoid, but I think not, to mirror me.  I can point to at least three occasions when she has done things very similiar to myself.  Maybe it was a purchase.  Or idea that seems to spring up very close after the revealing of mine.  Sometimes it's the humor I use in a Facebook post that a week later will be used by her.  Whatever it is, I get this eery feeling that she is, "flattering me".  As the saying goes, imitation is the best form of flattery.  But sometimes, I wonder.  Especially if the person does not give credit where it's due.  I have been known to tell friends that I am inspired by something they have done, whether it's their style, a place they have visited or a particular action they take.  I will even go as far as let them know that I plan on copying them, by following in their footsteps.  It seems to go over well.  No one really cares, but if I did the exact same thing as this particular person, and acted like it was just another day, I think I would feel weird.  Again, maybe I am just being paranoid.  I know I cannot be the only one that this happens to, it may just be an uncomfortable thing to discuss.  I mean, it comes across conceited to think that a specific idea is solely yours.  How special must you feel about yourself to believe someone is copying your actions?  With that said though, my inner 8 year old self says, "yeah, I still think she is straight up copying".  Instead of being irritated, I will settle on just being flattered. 

Security!!

Today, a woman came to the office where I work and asked for the code to the women's restroom.  I hesistantly gave it to her.  She looked a little shady.  Not from her attire or overall appearance, just because she looked a bit nervous and out of place.  Plus, we lock the restrooms for a reason.  I was hoping she was visiting the organization across the hall and that I did not just let a total stranger in the bathroom.  My co-worker, who was standing at my desk at the time, confirmed my suspicions when she told me the woman was carrying the chest plate of a "monkey suit".  Now I am really nervous.  What if this is one of those radical protestors who is offended by corporate America?  Or maybe, it's someone who plans on locking themselves in the ladies room for the remainder of the day?  Possibly she has come to kill us.  Don't ask me why these thoughts came to mind.  I am of the post 9/11 generation.  There have been plenty I have seen that I never would have imagined prior.  My brain will takes it's own journey to crazy land whenever it so chooses. 

Having said that, I called the building's security- which is not very secure.  My co-worker also called when she left my desk.  Now we have a real situation developing.  So the head of security comes up to our floor and asks someone from the neighboring office to check out and clear the ladies room.  Sidebar:  see what I mean about a not so secure building?  If you feel there might be danger lurking in the bathroom, why would you send an unsuspecting person to clear the door for you?  Anyhoo, the woman turned out to be a singing telegram.  One of the girls across the hall is celebrating a birthday today.  How was I supposed to know?  It was actually the person who opened the bathroom door for security. Again, my bad!  When the woman, now fully clad in a gorilla suit came to the door, she was a bit irritated.  "Why didn't ya just ask?  I would have given you a card."  Which she did.  So, if you're looking for a singing telegram, and who isn't these days?  Visit their website:  Ashley and Blake Magic.  They also have a "Tons of Fun" striptease and celebrity impersonators.  False alarm!

Snappin' Off

This weekend, the Gift, straight checked this chick and I loved it!  I am not a fan of men being ungentleman-like to women, but in some cases, it is necessary.  There is this person who is an extension of his crew of friends.  Extension meaning, I would feel the most comfortable referring to her as a groupie of sorts.  She is phony and an all around clown.  But she is not important.  Although she sparked the conversation, she is not the least bit important.  What is important is, the Gift checked her for not acknowledging me.  Yes, I told on her.  Mainly because she had the audacity to tell him to 'bring your girl' to her birthday celebration.  When he told me that, I knew it was bull.  And sure enough the next two encounters I had with her, she completely ignored me.  So you were hoping I would not have enough perception to know that you do not care for me, but you want me to be in the company of all of your friends so you could diss me on your turf?...I'm straight on that.  But again, I digress, it's not about her.  The Gift, checked her.  In a bar.  So assertively and to the point, I heard parts of it over thumping house music.  "How you gon(na) come in here, speak to me and not speak to my lady?!  No, no, how you not gon(na) acknowledge my lady?"  Yeah, get her!!

I giggled inside and I still smile when I think about it.  Here is a "woman" who will come in and hug my man, ignore me completely, even though we were all in the same vicinity (you could at least wave to the group as a whole), then you sit in my man's vacant seat, which of course is right next to me, turn your back to me and commence to flick your hair repeatedly over your shoulder.  Oh yeah, she was trippin'!  But that's not how the story ends.  She came over and heavily tapped me on my shoulders.  When I turn around, she waves sheepishly and says, 'Hi'.  I say, my usual, "hey, how you doing?".  Then she set herself up for major failure.  She extends her arms childishly, to welcome a hug.  My response?  "No hugs, it was good seeing you.  But no hugs."  Her face displayed shock and disbelief.  I smiled and turned back to my conversation.

It is good to know I have someone in my corner who doesn't go for the okey-doke.  He knows women can be catty, but does not see that as a reason for someone to be rude, especially not to me.