To illustrate why Jada is winning all the points with me:

"They question why I would LET Willow cut her hair. First the LET must be challenged. This is a world where women, girls, are constantly reminded that they do not belong to themselves; that their bodies are not their own, nor their power of self-determination. I made a promise to endow my little girl with the power to know that her body, spirit, and mind are HER domain. Willow cut her hair because her beauty, her value, her worth is not measured by the length of her hair. It's also a statement that says that even little girls have the RIGHT to own themselves and should not be a slave to even their mother's deepest insecurities, hopes, and desires. Even little girls should not be a slave to the preconceived ideas of what a culture believes a little girl should be."

--Jada Pinkett-Smith

(via Lavender Labia)

"Jada (Pinkett-Smith) unchained her daughter. Our mothers, grandmas, and aunties taught us to draw as little attention to ourselves as possible as we make our way through the world--or if we should be noticed, make it only for our exceptional achievements. Too many of us were taught that Willow's style and demeanor are for White people; 'we' don't behave that way. But personal freedom isn't just for White girls. Every little colored girl deserves a chance to grow into the woman she longs to be. I could not be happier that preteens today who look like me now have Willow."

--Kimberly Foster, "A New Model for Black Motherhood: Why We Need More Jada Pinkett-Smiths"

(via The Black Feminist Manifesto)

I don't change. I simply become more myself.

--Joyce Carol Oates 

It's strange the way we carry all of our relationships around inside of us all the time.

How we live them and breathe them as we live and breathe ourselves. How we are living and breathing for and because of them. How we absorb the things that are closest to us, but somehow become only more ourselves, like how a sponge seems "right" only when it is soaked and full of water. 


It fascinates me to think of the things from the people I know and have known, love and have loved, that I have adopted as parts of myself. They say imitation is the highest form of flattery, right? Well, then some people should be quite flattered, because I have taken pieces of them and called it myself. 


Is it plagiarism when you don't realize you've done it until it's too late?


If so, then I've been plagiarizing my father for as long as I can remember. My mother never ceases to be annoyed that I adjust my glasses when they're sliding down my nose in the exact same way that he does. It never ceases to annoy my mother.


There is a hand gesture of dismissal that I stole from the first character I played in a one act play in college. She was a Black nerd from Harvard who took a field trip to Harlem to try to learn about "Black culture," and she was kind of partial to me, maybe because I was engaged in some Black culture(s) 101 myself, or maybe just because she was the first. Anyway, when I make that shooing motion, I am ever reminded of her and then. 


I picked up "hella" from my niece in the two days I spent in California with her when I was 18 and never let it go. I have taken things like "extra" from my little sister. "Nervy" and "deets" from FO. "Fascinating" from KS. "Hey ho" from SH. "Hey girl heyyyyy" from various Black 2012 girls. Various guttural sounds of disapproval from my mother. 


I steal hairstyles from people on the internet allllllllllllllllll the time. I pick up quotes and phrases and save them in some part of myself for use later. 


And most conspicuously recently, I have started expressing disapproval of something by frowning slightly, bowing my head, closing my eyes, and shaking my head no. I had a moment of realization a little over a month ago that this action was not my own. It has KS written all over it. But like all these other things from all these other people, I have adopted it and made it mine. Like the scar on my left forearm from my Wawa days, it's a sign that a relationship has left its mark on me.


I wonder how many more of things I consider to be parts of myself, I have actually quietly stolen from the people who are important to me. It seems to me that I am a Self partially constructed of Others. I carry your mannerisms in my own, feeling I and we simultaneously. I am individual and yet the result of hundreds of "us"es, which never cease to inspire me, no matter the years or miles.   

I feel like, every day, I get a little bit closer to not giving a shit what others think of me. It’s big, sweeping, short-lived moments of rebellious fist-waving, and then deep wells of this familiar grief, this prolonged insecurity. And the first thing I must do to heal from it is to fight for it. For my right to it. For every unhealed wound, for every metaphorical (and not) wince at the raise of a hand, for every bit of need I have for the approval of others, for acceptance, for praise, for affirmation. This need is not a weakness. It’s both a natural state of being and a battle scar. I have a right to my history. I have a right to be in-process. Still learning. Still healing.

--Stacy Bias, Insecurity: Imperfect & Unforgiven 

"None of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are." -- Anne Rice

Reblogged from Indie Art Nerd

"Who are you in the face of disappointment?"

Disappointment turns me into a sniveling creature for whom I have very little respect. I hold myself to pretty strict standards, and have this nasty habit of wanting to hold others to them too. It means I'm generally floored when people do wrong by me. And then, I'm still getting used to hearing the words, "I'm sorry" and "We regret to inform you" in academic and professional contexts, so that can be jarring, too. But I am trying to learn to take disappointment in stride, to see closed doors as opening windows and all that good stuff. 

And if I have respect for anything, it's this song.

Unintended chivalry

Things I knew already: I have awesome friends. Tonight, one of my awesome friends asked me into the middle of a circle of people to dance, and then unexpectedly picked me up and told me to wrap my legs around his waist. I obliged, and he twirled us around while I laughed louder than I've laughed in weeks and held on for dear life. I thought he knew that I was trying very hard to not be uncomfortable about something that has no business bothering me, and was trying (incredibly successfully) to distract me, but it turns out he was just being his wonderful self. And that's even better. And he put me in such a good mood that the other thing didn't even matter, and I don't think it will in the future either.

I know I didn't leave for that substantial a period of time, but everyone else did, and so...it feels good to be back. 

The categories Netflix creates for me must say something about my life.

• "Underdog Movies based on real life"
• You root for the little guy because you've never stopped viewing yourself as one.
  
• "Sentimental Tearjerkers featuring a strong female lead"
• Strong female lead? Hell yeah that's me. And "keep in mind that I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my shit." (Erykah Badu)
• "Critically-acclaimed sentimental documentaries"
• For the sociologist in me.
• "Witty Romantic Opposites Attract Comedies"
• Even though I would much rather find someone similar to me than someone who is very unlike me in a great many ways, I love it when the two characters you aren't supposed to expect to get together (except you do expect it because, well, this is a genre) get together.
• "Girl Power Movies"
• Does this really require explanation?
• "Cerebral Suspenseful TV Dramas"
• I like crime dramas and medical dramas because they fascinate me. I want to be fascinated when I watch TV, not just entertained. 
• "Inspiring Sports Movies"
• I don't really know what it is about these, because I'm really quite the opposite of a sports fan in real life, but if you give me a movie about a struggling football/basketball team that overcomes its issues as a result of some male bonding and a few impassioned speeches, I will be crying like a baby. 
• "Movies About Food" 
• I actually laughed out loud at this one. It's "based on my interest in Soul Food and The Spitfire Grill. I mean, I do like food, though.
• "Steamy TV Dramas"
• Mmm, well, I do like steamy...
• "First Love Teen Romance"
• Oh my heart is melting just reading that description.

I took a "Love Language" test from Clutch Magazine earlier

which you can find and amuse yourself with here.

My highest scores were Physical Touch and Quality Time, at 9 and 8 respectively. Your highest score represents your primary love language, and if you have two that are very closely ranked very highly, like mine, it indicates that both are supremely important to you when it comes to affairs of the heart.

This is so true. It manifests itself in my general touchy-feely tendencies and the way I try to worm my close friendships and relationships into as many nooks and crannies in my life as possible. And it's why I can't do distance.

Anyway, it's entertaining when random quizzes provide accurate results. Similarly, I took a personality test the other day, and that result was also pretty damn accurate, imo:

INFJ - the counselor You scored 45% I to E, 42% N to S, 29% F to T, and 26% J to P!
Your type is best summed up by the word "counselor", which belongs to the larger group of idealists. Only 2% of the population share your type. You are so empathic that you often know what others need before they know themselves. You are a complex person who can deal with complicated issues and people, almost prefer to, as you love problem solving. You can be something of an idealist or perfectionist, and should try to take yourself a little less seriously.
You are a supportive and insightful romantic partner, encouraging your mate to have dreams and work hard to make those dreams come true. Because you are so creative, you have a wealth of ideas to help them toward those goals. You need harmony so much that you are driven to resolve conflict quickly, as long as the terms don't violate your ethics. You feel the most appreciated when your partner admires your creativity, trusts your inspirations, and respects your values. It is also vitally important that your partner be open and emotionally available - in other words, that they be willing to share themselves completely.

“Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.” --E. L. Doctorow

^Love

Quack, Quack

I've been thinking a lot about baby ducks recently. More specifically, about how sometimes I feel kind of like a baby duck, and not just in that I'm cute and loveable and soft (LOL) and that some might call me high-yellow.
I've been thinking about imprinting. How when a duckling hatches, it latches on to the first living thing it sees and calls it mama. Supposedly humans don't do this. But I feel like I do, in a different way. The first place that feels nice, I call it home and don't want to let go. The first people I knew on this campus are still my closest friends, and losing one of them to Oxford for a semester hurts. I seize the smallest show of affection and in return, find small ways to scream love.
I think I care too much about everything, and I'm fairly sure it's just going to get me hurt.