I am beyond the hype.

Reblogged from Fuck Yeah Curls Curls Curls

"Beauty is that glow that comes from within, which can only be ignited by being connected in the now. That is meeting all with openness to the potential of co-creating greatness. You can only shine it when you work on the most important relationship you’ll ever have: that with yourself." -- The Bandit Queen, of blackgirl on mars

Reblogged from On the Bright Side

PostSecret is my favorite thing about Sundays.

Reblogged from PostSecret

I'm not just thinking about this in terms of male/female/fuck binary gender systems, but also in terms of all the weird kinds of trivial 'requirements' some people have about their prospective partners. You know, "he has to be taller than me with this kind of job and make this much money and dress this way and want to do more on Sundays that just watch football," or "she has to cook and clean and take care of the kids and maintain her figure after having said kids and always look put together and..." Eventually we'll all wake up and realize that the only truly necessary criterium is "this person needs to make me feel happy, safe, and secure, even when times are rough." 

I think that's your only chance to find ever after, if it exists.

Someone remind me of this the next TWLOHA Day

Reblogged from 18° 15' N, 77° 30' W

And if you don't know what To Write Love on Her Arms Day is, you should.

Someday I'm going to find a field of wildflowers

not a metaphorical field of flowers, but an actual field bursting with glorious color, along the side of a random road somewhere, and make whoever's driving me pull over and run with me into the hues. I have wanted pictures of my hair amongst the flowers for a long time, but this photograph has reawakened the desire.

Reblogged from 18° 15' N, 77° 30' W

This also makes me want to start experimenting with scarves...

"There is such power in vulnerability; in wearing your heart on its sleeve; in being beautifully honest.
When you do these things, a window of your soul opens up & exposes itself to the world.
Nothing else on earth can do this quite like vulnerability can." -- Ev'Yan, of Sex Love & Liberation.

My first ever product review!!!

Bee Mine Bee U Ti Ful Natural and Organic Deep Conditioner

Ingredients: Distilled water, Cetearyl Alcohol, BTMS (mild emulsifier), 100% Unrefined Shea Butter , 100% Organic Coconut Oil, Cupuacu Butter, Calendula Extract, Chamomile Extract, Organic Raw Honey, Paraben Free Preservative, Fragrance (Phthalate Free)

Silicone - Free / SLS - Free / Paraben - Free / Protein Free 

In a stroke of good luck, I won this product in a BGLH giveaway last week! As I don't have class until the evening on Wednesdays, I decided to give it a go yesterday morning, and as soon as I opened the container, I knew I was in for a treat. 

Creme de la creme

It's a much creamier consistency than the deep conditioner I'd been using previously, and has a light fresh coconut scent that is pleasant without being overbearing. I wet my hair in the shower and then began to apply the deep conditioner, scrunching it into sections of my wet hair, and my hair just ATE IT RIGHT UP. I never realized the degree to which my old deep conditioner sort of sits on top of my hair until this melted right into it! The instructions say to leave it in for ten minutes under a plastic cap, but I like to combine deep conditioning and detangling into one convenient treat-my-hair-right process, so I probably left it in for closer to half an hour as my Denman Brush and I worked our way through my now no longer knotty/tangled and more clearly defined curls! (Denman brushes, women. I highly recommend.) 

With the conditioner in, somewhere in the middle of detangling

Look, Ma, I can comb my hair! My hand looks like an alien life-form in this picture.

Happily quenched curls after I rinsed the deep conditioner out.

Seriously though, I don't think my curls have ever been as thoroughly quenched as they were yesterday, and even when I woke up this morning it wasn't as dried out and in need of immediate moisture as my hair normally is. I contemplated wearing second day curls! But then my outfit called for a fedora, which called for a ponytail, which called for water. Oh well. Point is, this deep conditioner is awesome and I highly recommend it. Like, oh my word.

"There ain't no justice, there's just us..."

the above lyric is a line from the chorus of The City High Anthem, and though they're singing with regard to a particular generation of underprivileged Black urban youth, I think people worldwide, and particularly Black peoples in the United States, find these words resonate with even more intensity in them tonight. 

Let me preface this by saying that I try, whenever possible, to be a proud American. I've had inter/transnational roommates chide me for being patriotic to a fault. Though this is no longer the case, I once regarded myself as "American" before "Black". Under normal circumstances, I will refuse to say "under God," but otherwise will pledge my allegiance to our flag and feel only positivity swell in my heart. Tonight, though, I will avert my eyes from wherever I might see this flag on my cross-campus walk. Tonight, I wear my American identity with shame, for I have been reminded that we do not always practice what we preach. I have been reminded of hypocrisy. I have been reminded of dishonor. I have been reminded of the harshest forms of prejudice. I have been reminded of systemic racism. I have been reminded of ideals that are only upheld for those deemed "ideal."

At 11:08 pm, an event transpired in the state of Georgia that can be properly referred to solely as a legalized lynching. 

Before I was born, Troy Davis, a 20 year old Black man, was found guilty of the murder of an off-duty White police officer, despite the fact that no physical evidence could be found linking him to the crime. The murder weapon was never located. At the time of his trial, nine witnesses swore before God, a judge, a jury, and a nation to various details cementing Davis's guilt. He was convicted and sentenced to death. 

In the 22 years since, seven of those nine witnesses have either fully or partially recanted their testimonies, saying they felt pressured by the police to implicate Davis. The gun has still never been recovered. Rumors have been circulating for years that one of the witnesses in Davis's trial, Sylvester "Redd" Coles, actually committed the murder, but no formal investigation has ever been launched against Coles. Each time Davis has filed for an appeal, he has been denied, with the courts citing a lack of "substantive claims" of his innocence, and dismissing the recants as "unpersuasive." 

From Wikipedia:

In August 17, 2009, the Supreme Court of the United States, over the dissenting votes of two justices, ordered a federal district court in Georgia to consider whether new evidence "that could not have been obtained at the time of trial clearly establishes [Davis'] innocence". The evidentiary hearing was held in June 2010, during which affidavits from several prosecution witnesses from the trial changing or recanting their previous testimony were presented; some affiants asserted they had been coerced by police. The State presented witnesses, including the police investigators and original prosecutors, denying any coercion. Other witnesses who had not testified at trial asserted that Coles had confessed to the killing, but this evidence was excluded as hearsay as Coles was not subpoenaed by the defense to rebut it. In an August 2010 decision, the conviction was upheld by the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Georgia, which described defense efforts to upset the conviction as "largely smoke and mirrors".

 At this time, I would like to examine the legal definition of the phrase "reasonable doubt," as coined in the Fourteenth Amendment to our United States Constitution:

"The standard that must be met by the prosecution's evidence in a criminal prosecution: that no other logical explanation can be derived from the facts except that the defendant committed the crime, thereby overcoming the presumption that a person is innocent until proven guilty."

Please note that that says innocent until proven guilty, not guilty until proven innocent. The prosecution's case against Troy Davis was grounded entirely on circumstantial evidence, coerced and recanted witness testimony, and a dismissal of sworn witness testimony that SOMEONE ELSE HAD CONFESSED TO THE CRIME. How does any of that leave us within the boundaries of reasonable doubt? 

A hundred years ago (and more recently), in the state of Georgia (and elsewhere), when a Black man was accused of committing an offense against a White, his Constitutional right to a fair trial by a jury of his peers was conveniently overlooked. He saw no jury, no judge, no courthouse. If he were lucky, he saw torches, heard the mob coming. If he were lucky, he could get away. Thousands of Black men, women, and children were not lucky. They were not tried. Declared guilty by default, as a fact of the color of their skin and the nature that presumably accompanied it, they were kidnapped, tortured, hanged, riddled with bullets, burned [though not necessarily in that order]. Their images were printed on front pages and postcards, their body parts were auctioned off to the highest bidders, community members who wanted a souvenir.

Though they have varied their methods with time--substituting a fixed trial with incapable public defenders and coerced witnesses for the previously non-existent trial, the emotional torture of caging a boy for the entirety of his manhood for kidnapping and physical torture, and a lethal injection for the satisfaction of hearing a neck snap--you cannot tell me they do not still lynch Black men in the state of Georgia. The only difference is the entire process is entirely legal, rather than extralegal now. You cannot tell me Troy Davis's rights were upheld. You cannot call this justice. I see only predeterminism and vengeance, and when these things are idolized in the place of justice, America has failed itself. These cannot be equated. I am neither comfortable in my own skin or with my own patriotism in the face of a system that does not know the difference, with checks and balances that are meant to help allowing states to get away with murder.

I am not a religious woman, but with everything in me, I hope that Troy Davis finally knows freedom. I also hope that we remember that the irony of the "I am Troy Davis" campaign launched this week to protest his impending execution is that there many Troy Davises spread around the country (Mumia Abu-Jamal, anyone?), probably thousands around the world. Even in cases where guilt is unequivocal, is retribution ever truly just? My friend Brittney's family did not call for it, even when the grief and rage seemed overwhelming. I will admit that there are some crimes so heinous that my first reaction is you, offender, do not need to live any longer. This is primarily reserved for people who rape and murder 27 women and make suits out of their skin, etc. But taking a life should never make one sleep easier at night. Inflicting more of the seemingly unbearable and insurmountable pain one person's loved ones had to go through when they were taken onto another person's loved ones...why is this something to pay forward?

I will never get a Twitter because this rant is almost 1400 words long and that's the way I like it, but so that I may stand in solidarity, I would re-tweet this all night:

#toomuchdoubt

An ideal future eccentric professor Maya will aspire to:

Reblogged from addicted 2 etsy

An open letter to consulting firms:

Dear Mr. YouObviouslyDon'tKnowWhoYou'veJustEmailed, 

I know that I'm supposed to thank you for considering me as a potential candidate for this opening at your firm, but I actually find it a bit insulting, and don't have the patience, energy, or even desire to pretend otherwise. You've sent me a lot of emails and even had the nerve to leave a folder full of information about yourself in front of my door [side note: you looked up where I live? Does that entitle me to file a restraining order?], and I think this whole gig is just getting out of hand. My previous strategy of ignoring you in hopes that you'll go away is failing miserably, and so I have resorted to being up front and direct with you. Consulting firms are supposed to like aggressive tactics, right?

I'm going to say this slowly and clearly so that there is no way you may possibly misinterpret this next bit: I am never going to work for you. Never. Ever. No matter how many emails you send me or information sessions you invite me to. It's not going to happen. 

No, I won't even consider it. Why? You really have the nerve to ask me why? Oh, I don't know, maybe because everything being a lower-middle-class Black female afro-wearing sociologist has made me is fundamentally against working for you. In case you are unaware, you are "The Man," and not in a high-five inducing way.

I am writing this letter to you today to ask you, with all the politeness I can muster, to please do us both a favor and stop wasting your time and, more importantly, mine. It's just plain rude that I have to go through and systematically delete half the emails in my inbox every morning. We can both be more productive than that, can't we? (I'm going to start by getting more familiar with Gmail's filter-by-word-and-send-straight-to-trash feature.)

Thank you, and have an enlightening day! 

Maya 

Reblogged from Treasured Tresses

 

"Contrary to what fairy tales and rom-coms want us to believe, love is not enough to sustain a relationship. It’s just a good place to start—and a great reason to try." -- Jackie Summers, of The Good Men Project Magazine

Excuse my classism and stereotyping (actually, don't, I'm about to be hella rude)

I saw the most "ghetto" thing I had ever encountered in my entire life at the football game on Saturday. I tried very hard to take a photograph of it, but my cell phone camera isn't that powerful and it isn't like I could slide right up next to boo's ear without attracting all kinds of attention. I'm sad, though, because you people of the internet are not going to believe what I'm about to tell you without photographic evidence. Chick sitting in front of me was wearing door knocker earrings, 

which would not have prompted much of a reaction from me under normal circumstances. They even had her name (presumably) in them, which is slightly worse but still not going to ruffle my feathers much, even given the fact that her name was "Starr." I would have been willing to let all of this slide, but--and this is the part you're not going to believe--her name wasn't written out in the [faux] gold of the earrings, like respectable hoodrats. (And I think my little sister, ugh.) No. Her name was spelled out IN ALPHABET LETTER BEADS on some sort of golden rod spanning the diameter of the hoops. 

Yes, I do, in fact, mean letters just like these like our 7 year old selves made BFF bracelets out of.

I just...never in my life had I seen anything like this. Being gaudy and extravagant is one thing. This may have been a more economical solution, and I understand times are tough, but just, boo...sometimes you should just wait to do it right.

On writing:

Reblogged from Indie. Radiant.

Another website that makes me smile:

http://thanksforteaching.us/

Although my elementary--high school years were mostly filled with mediocre or even some downright lackluster teachers, the standouts, the ones I'll never forget, deserve commendation. These are the teachers who told me to dream higher, who opened my eyes to a world of possibilities beyond my middle-of-the-road imagination. These teachers said, "Write," or "Try," or "Create," or "Find another way." These teachers said, "You can do it. You can do that and more." These teachers' doors were always open. These teachers made sacrifices for me and my classmates. These teachers fixed previous teachers' mistakes and included their omissions. Frankly, these teachers did it right, and I want to write a note for each and every one of them.

You have teachers that you wouldn't have made it without. I know you do. You should thank them, too.  

Things I Wish I'd Learned in Sex Ed

This post was inspired by one on Met Another Frog.

• That my own pleasure is valuable and important. 
• That heteronormativity is not the path to enlightenment.
• That labels are played out (as is the term "played out") and that sexuality can be fluid.
• That women should not be condemned for recognizing their nature as sexual beings with sexual desires and needs. I like porn and erotic literature. I masturbate. I like sex. I like to suck dick. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to suck on titties that aren't my own. And guess what?! All of those things are perfectly okay and normal and I'm not ashamed of any of them. But I wish I'd learned that I don't have to be earlier.
• That, while you should never do something you're not comfortable with sexually, you also shouldn't be afraid to try new things or experiment if you want to. That if you're always self-conscious about what you look like naked or what you do or don't know how to do or what you second-guess your ability at, you won't ever lose yourself in the moment and just enjoy it. That an awkward moment or two doesn't necessarily kill the mood. That thinking about how x or y thing makes you look in bed unnecessarily intellectualizes the physical process.
• That sex isn't scary, and it doesn't have to be a big fucking deal. That as long as you're being safe, there's not really anything to worry about. It's a decision that has risks and benefits, much like...anything else. That it doesn't have to change things.
• That it's okay to talk about sex in an open forum, rather than just behind a closed door that everyone is embarrassed to walk though.
• That having sex outside of a relationship does not mean one is a slut. And perhaps sex with someone who doesn't mean the world to you lets you lose your inhibitions more easily than does sex with a particularly significant other. Or perhaps this being more open thing just comes with experience.
• How to talk in bed. I've realized it's a social situation in which I'm uncharacteristically quiet, and I'm not sure I approve.

Smh

So when I was checking FOX's website to see when Bones comes back (NOT TIL NOVEMBER WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!), I noticed that they have a new show coming out called I Hate My Teenage Daughter. And then I saw today that MTV is producing a new show called Dumb Girls which for all intents and purposes seems to be about a group of normal 20-somethings. I'm pretty sure I'm disgusted with the image of femininity being marketed by production companies right now; not that that should surprise me in any way.

Le cuteness

Reblogged from Treasured Tresses

Additional Reasons My Weekend was Awesome

(Besides most likely doing well enough on the GRE that I won't need to retake it, getting a ride back to campus instead of having to catch the bus, and celebrating with sex, drugs alcohol, and rock-n-roll theater...)

This is members of my eating club with members of the Far East Movement

The fro makes me easily identifiable, although today I had one side pinned up to counteract the asymmetry of my dress, so it was only a half-fro (hafro?). This picture was taken mere minutes after, upon realizing that the President of my club was going around collecting all the alcohol to take us off tap, I grabbed the nearest bottle of Andre and began to chug like my life early-afternoon-drunkenness depended on it, and many of these same members of the Far East Movement noticed my chugging and cheered me on! 

Yes, that's right, fucking celebrities cheered "Chug! Chug! Chug!" as I downed the remnants of a bottle of champagne, and then gave me thumbs up/applause when I finished the bottle. My life is so fucking hardcore.

Thursday was our first day of classes

and, as all 4 of my classes are Tuesday/Thursday (four day weekend every week, #fuckyeahI'masenior), I had my first Diversity in Black America seminar on Thursday, and I'm even more excited about this class now than I was previously, which I'm not sure I thought was possible. It's going to be up there with class with Brother West my freshman fall, and no class has come close to that since.

Anyway, we watched and discussed this in class, and besides just being a phenomenal TED talk, I'm fairly positive I'm going to refer to this in my senior thesis. The "single story" that we unwittingly construct about peoples--even peoples supposedly like ourselves, groups we belong to--is what I think gets changed in college with regard to our racial categories. She's talking about the same concept I'm trying to name with terms like "boundaries" and "meaning." 


Anyway, if you have 15 minutes to listen to a really great mini-lecture, you should check this out. Just have it playing in the background while you surf; you'll thank me later.

I want to call this "stately."

Reblogged from Currently Obsessed with...