Fire and Brimstone for you Evil Weave Wearers

So a friend shared this story, about a pastor who has banned the evil among us from his church - the vile sinners being those women, those Jezebels who worship, not God, but the Indian and Brazilian Remy.  For the uninformed, the preacher man is referring to women who wear weaves. Yes...home boy is not a supporter of the "hair in a bag" revolution, and as he says, he is tired of the "phony ponies". To this end, he has declared a ban on all those women seeking God, but who have a weave sewn in or glued on.

Now I find the l'il pastor bright and farse because I do not understand what a woman's hairstyle has to do with her faith or with her quest for peace and salvation. Whether she is bald, rocking dreadlocks or 14" Brazilian Remy in 1B, that should not be his problem. Everyone has a right to self expression, whether it is via tattoos, piercings or hairstyles. You don't have to like it, but just accept it. Unless that weave has not been washed for weeks, and is rank smelling, these women are not hurting anybody.

I guess he does not listen to gospel music because I have seen the super fabulous contemporary gospel artistes, like Yolanda Adams, and they are rockin' the best Remy money can buy.

That being said, I do agree with Pastor's point where he says

I lead a church where our members are struggling financially. I mean really struggling. “Yet, a 26 year old mother in my church has a $300 weave on her head.

Yolanda Adams - rockin' that Remy

Here, I can co-sign with pastor, because I have seen it. It is all around me. You see them on the news, holding placards, saying they cannot feed their children, and life is hard, but they rocking EXPENSIVE Remy, have the best manicures, more gold than Trinidad James, and made up with the fake eyelashes, in the best brands. Again, it may be your right to spend your money however you like, but let's be real with the complaining if your entire look could feed said children for a month or even two. I have a job and I gasp at the prices of these "premium" hair types. Gasp and walk away. Ladies, you cannot eat the Remy and your kids cannot eat the Remy and sorry, but noone will take you seriously if you claim you are suffering but your hair, and the rest of you for that matter, cost as much as a monthly grocery bill for a small family.

So maybe pastor is just fed up of the women who come to him all done up, and complaining that God has forsaken them. I do not agree with our dear pastor, that all women who wear weaves have low self-esteem. I have rocked weaves and my friends can attest that I "over like" myself. lol. I just am not a hair person in the way that some women can keep their hair looking ultra fabulous at all times, and the ease and convenience of a weave done to my specifications is what sometimes works for me. So pastor needs to cool it.

I do agree with the author though, in that I hope that pastor is investing the same amount of energy in preaching the gospel, and counselling those lost members of the flock who may have been led astray by sex, drugs and other such vices, as he has been in admonishing women for their choice of hairstyle. Hair a Christian doth not make.

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The Final Moments of La Dolce Vita

It's a very tired tourist writing this blog entry.  Rome was a lot of fun, and sometimes fun can be exhausting.

So the last time I checked in, I was preparing for an outing to Villa Borghese and a meetup 20 years in the making with a childhood penpal.   Galleria Borghese is a small museum but boasts a very rich collection, mainly featuring works of Bernini. Getting there is just as amazing as the museum is located at the end of the beautiful Villa Borghese grounds - a beautiful stretch of open, green space which as a park is clearly much loved and appreciated by both locals and tourists alike.

I will confess, the morning was soured by the rudeness of the bus driver, and I would go further to say that he just could not handle or appreciate this awesome dark brown girl, and that is as diplomatic as I am going to be. Generally, I felt an overwhelming unfriendliness in Rome, which some may not appreciate me saying, but it was certainly my personal experience. Not generalising but just stating my own opinion based on MY experience in this gorgeous city. The brown tourist experience is a unique one cause in some places you never blend in, but then who wants to be a faceless other anyway? Still, between the rude stares, impolite behaviour or the often aggressive adoration of black hair, and brown skin, it was often a test of my patience.  

However, the warmth and love were most apparent when my penpal and I finally met during the second part of my trip. As I had mentioned before, we forged an overseas friendship in our pre-teen years, when snail mail was in, and social media was not even an option. And she is as lovely as I hoped she would be. There were hugs, kisses, laughs. It was really something else. She also introduced me to her sister and her friends who made the Roman experience a truly memorable one, with their light heartedness, humour and inquisitiveness. Of course, as always, I sold my own country as the place to visit so hopefully our second such meetup will be on my side of the pond.  

On the first night, we attempted to take in a music festival at Piazza Farnese, but soon traded that for drinks, which is always the best way. The night after, I had the chance to experience typical Italian nightlife in Trastevere, where we had aperitifs, gelato, street entertainment, and a walk along the river, where the summer fair had recently started and all the booths set up. Along the entire length of the river - lungo di tevere (Jason should he impressed with my power of recall) - there were booths showcasing art, hawking various wares, peddling cocktails and other such uplifting substances, all against the backdrop of a beautiful, albeit cranky looking Tiber river at night. The throngs of people were evidence that Italy was clearly welcoming the first days of summer.  

Sadly, it all had to end sometime, and after one last stroll through St Peter's Square on Sunday morning, I bid Rome farewell. It was truly a magical experience and one I will treasure forever. Of course, I will be back. Duh. Thanks to my new, beautiful Italian friends who opened their hearts and their city to me, to the lone Brit for just speaking English and being a bit funny as well, and to the various people I met along the way. It was grand.

Next - Mind the Foodie Gap in London Town

The lush greenery of Villa Borghese

Borghese museum

Gelato cornucopia 

Cannoli - so sweet.

Awesome sculpture on the bank of the Tiber

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Black Girl Problems

Hello fine people. I am alive. I am here.

So besides being extremely busy with work, I have also been trying to use the few moments when I am not working and not comatose from exhaustion to plan vacation. I have been going over in my mind all the little details but besides worrying about the one medium sized suitcase limit I have set myself in order to avoid insanity en route to airports etc, there is also one major dilemma...

The black girl vacation hair dilemma!!!

To be more specific - the Trininista vacation hair dilemma.

Let me just reiterate here - I am NOT a hair person. I repeat - I am NOT a hair kinda girl. Some girls are really good with makeup or nails or looking super fashionista. I can kinda fall into these categories on some days, but the super fly hair girl? Not me. And this is on a good day - a regular day when I still have access to my arsenal a la my dressing table. And still, I tend to take the easy way out 9 out of 10 times.

Vacation is a whole different bucket of water! Especially with the one suitcase limit, and the general hatred of having to take a whole battery of hair products with me. Especially when you are not sure you will have access to super fly hair girl products and salons, or friends who can address one's general lack of hair skills. Black hair is a special kind of animal. You just don't roll off the bed, shake it and look like Oprah. Furthermore, who has the time? Vacations are supposed to be fun. One wants low maintenance, easy, ready-to-go hair, and a style that would protect one's hair from the stresses of vacation - the changes in weather for example.

So what does a cute brown girl do that is both easy and fierce?

Well, with my hair as it is now, I can do maybe some braids...

 but I hate the time it takes to get braids done. I have a life!

Maybe something like this.

Or maybe not. I can feel the heat scorching my scalp and neck just looking at that. Not to mention I once tried a wig that looked like this and looked like a damn fool. Or this, a little shorter but  hmmm...so much hair!

Or just invest in a few wraps and do this...

Me likey. Needless to say, I would still need to pack a jar of something to keep my hair in good working order, but hey...small price to pay. But when one also considers the scaled down toiletries bag as well - it is just too much.

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Sunday Shorts

Solange Knowles

So I did it. I cut my hair. Not a snip. A major cut. Like...all of it. So now I have a style a bit like Solange Knowles' - maybe a tad bit longer on the top, but you get the general idea. Seeing my hair falling to the ground was a bit traumatic but I did not go bananas. I am happy it is gone - all the damaged bits - and now can focus on bringing it back to the way it was, and should be. Yaay me. The reaction has been generally positive except for a couple male comments. The black man's obsession with long hair lives on. Weaves and wigs are much more acceptable than a woman rocking a short cut. It still amuses me, and more so cause other men appreciate the natural look of a black woman, yet it is still sometimes hard to get that same appreciation from black men. Amazing. I think I am cute nonetheless, so not going to argue about it.

So today is the last day of my 3-day weekend. It was not a good weekend. I was sick for most of the time (food poisoning is no joke, friends) and in bed, but at least I got some rest and will continue to do so today. I was totally exhausted all week, having flown over 9 hours from London to Port of Spain last Sunday, and getting up at my regularly scheduled time of 3.30am to go to work on Monday. Talk about being a masochist. I felt like rubbish all week. I also was too tired to cook meals so ate out, or ate crap. I will be cooking today. And baking. The plan is to do a nice Thai curry today for tomorrow's lunch. I also got some lean mince and black beans for a nice chilli, and I have some chicken breast, pesto and mushrooms for a nice fettucine special. Plus, I bought some bran to try my hand at another home made bread. And I have a bottle of wine to go with all this delightful culinary magic.

Short hair, cooking and wine. Superwoman, I am. It's a beautiful Sunday morning. Enjoying it.

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Hair Raising Experience in London Town

The trininista hair trifecta -
shampoo, conditioner, leave-in conditioner

N- for Nubian. Adventures into Nubian Hair would be a great way to describe the past hour of my life.

When I did my first degree in Jamaica, it was the norm for Trinidadian students to have 2 suitcases - one with clothes and books, the other with food - the story was that food was too expensive in Jamaica, so we "imported" via suitcase our own foodstuff. Now while London is not cheap, I was surely not about to forego warm clothes for a box of Cheerios. Besides, there are enough bargains around to ensure survival.

However, there was a mandatory shopping stop before getting on that British Airways flight. Pennywise, or as I call it, the Trini Boots. Being a black woman/nubian queen is a unique experience in many ways, but coming to London without products was not an option. White people seem to think we can all use the same things and be happy and beautiful. We cannot. Black hair alone is something totally different to white hair, so packing my stuff was not vanity, but necessity. As for London, I had been here before and experienced the nashiness of some of the black women here and did not aspire to look like any of them. So I can attest that half of one suitcase was filled with lotions, hair products, makeup etc.

Seven months later, I am still pretty good for beauty stuff but I realised last week that I was on the last of my post-shampoo leave-in conditioner, which can mean the difference between crackly and dry hair and shiny, healthy looking hair. Not wanting to wash my hair this weekend without it, I prepared myself for the wild adventure that is Lewisham. Now, I go to Leiwsham pretty regularly but I generally hit the shopping centre and Tesco, and that's it. Nothing against Lewisham mind you, cause my mother can attest that even in Trinidad, I avoid the high streets and prefer to get what I need within the confines of a mall - be it Gulf City Mall, Price Plaza, Grand Bazaar or West Mall. So nothing against Lewisham...

However, Lewisham is no Oxford Street either (which I also avoid 90% of the time in favour of Westfield Mall) and the characters I spot on the streets are cringe-worthy to say the least. I saw one white girl, with about 30lbs too much around her midsection in a bra top and low rise jeans, and I cringed.

In any event, my hair needed salvation so I traipsed through the streets in search of a hair products store. Even despite the fact that I knew they would not have anything, I escaped into a Super Drug hoping against hope that they would have what I needed. Nada. So on I went.

After 5 minutes of cat calls from Africans and Jamaicans, and some really odd looking white girls, I found a store - Shabba Hair & Cosmetics - and as I entered, the harps started playing. There it was - a plethora of black skin and hair products, a virtual Pennywise at my fingertips. It was great. Made me wonder then, why if such a store exists, do some of these girls look so pop-down! Nah man. I had expected to get something close to what I normally use but I got EXACTLY what I needed. And more...

Like the two cross-dressers looking at wigs. It was a scary sight let me tell you. Here were two black men - not men who could possibly pass as women - but two big, black, ashy elbowed black men, in lace front wigs, lipstick and heels. To say I was amused would be an understatement. The Indian dude showing them the wigs did not seem too aghast. This seemed like a normal thing for him - to show two black men the best he had to offer in wigs and weaves, and hair sheen. Very polite they were though as I said "excuse me" in an effort to pass. Not to mention complimentary, commenting on how lovely my eyebrows were and asking me whether I waxed or threaded. Too funny.

But at least I head to Cardiff with shiny hair on Monday, cause I am not quite sure how many black people I will find there, but at least I can well represent the sistas (and wannabe sistas)!

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No Paparazzi, please

There are the cute blue heels that are my avatar.

I am really tickled to be one of the Editor's Picks on Bloggers.com today. I mean, there is no red carpet, no flash bulbs, no prize money (the worst part...lol), but it's cute. So yaay me.

It's pretty amusing to realise 1). how many people actually read my nonsense, 2). how many people actually enjoy reading my nonsense and 3). how much I enjoy writing my nonsense. It is the one part of my day that is not frustrating, and is completely mine.

So thanks to everybody who ensures it is not a solitary experience.

Sephora, Florence, Italy - I had a time in here

Almost every day I get my email from Sephora, torturing me with the specials and sales, and I ask again, Why isn't there a Sephora in London? I mean, y'all taking this Britishness thing too damn far, man. I cannot get NZ cheese. I cannot get American Cheerios (I don't like the Cheerios here - half sweet, half plain, in one box. Gimme 100% PLAIN Cheerios!!! OMG!). And now I cannot get Sephora? Every trip to Miami, the PT and I must hit up Sephora. New York - Sephora. I made it a point to visit Sephora in both Paris and Florence cause it is just one of my favourite shops ever. London - great capital, home of the queen. Why? Why?

Maybe it is for the best since I can barely afford food, and have to resort to getting excited in Boots. Needless to say, I needed a toner and bought one from Boots - a Boots brand and I selected it after reading the reviews, because let's face it, if I was going to buy a toner for under £2, I wanted to make sure it was not going to set my face on fire or burn off my eyebrows. Really one cannot go wrong with witch hazel and tea tree oil.  I had never had a toner that was a blend of both and never used a cheap toner either, but kudos to Boots for this godsend product. Easy on the skin and easy on the pocket. It is as good as a toner can get. Take the free plug, Boots.

A winning beauty combination, ladies. On a budget!

Of course I also got my Mudd facial mask and it really does give a boost of beauty confidence. How I survived this long with just soap and water, and my L'Oreal scrubby wubby is a miracle. I am now leaving it for "special" occasions, which means I may never use it again. Kidding kidding.

Still, Boots is no Sephora. Let's just keep it real now. I am glad I had the presence of mind to pack at least 6 months' supply, though it might really be 8, of cosmetics for black, tropical skin, or I would be a hot, nashy mess. It was a funny story at lunch on Sunday, about a black girl who was using a brand that shall remain nameless, bought here in London, and thought she was swanky, until she went back home to her black friends, and everyone asked her what on earth she was using to be looking so grey. lol. The darkest products here were clearly not dark enough for her but funny that noone thought it would be nice to tell her this. I guess they thought her face was grey? lol. Thank God for Pennywise - the Trini Boots - and my stocks. Looking grey is not an option. Funny that there are so many black people here and still a dearth in GOOD black beauty supplies (emphasis on "good"). Hmmm.

I'm working on my second assignment. As I said before, blogging is the only time I am not frustrated or vexed. lol

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Friday: Let's Talk Beauty (Vanity)

I've not been sleeping well. I go to bed at oh...3am..latest was 5am, and set the alarm to wake me up 6 hours later, so I can start a new day on this assignment, and 3 hours later, I am wide eyed. Not so bushy tailed. Here I am again - 3.5 hours later. Unable to sleep.

This of course means I look like utter rubbish. I have been "self medicating" with shea butter moisturiser to try to put some zap in my skin, and a lot of cold water splashes to minimise the puffiness under my eyes. This does not bode well for the evening where I am supposed to go out and look cute. Back home this would have meant - strong coffee, and a quick facial. You know, when they put you under the steamer and you fall asleep, and then the gentle massage takes you to dreamland, and then they leave the face mask on and go outside to check on other customers for 20 mins and you doze off with a smile on your face. By the time you leave, after your super nap and the relaxation, not to mention exfoliation and super skin crap that you know is probably not much better than the cheap crap you can get in the beauty aisle, you're positively glowing.

Fast forward to me, in fluffy socks, with puffy eyes, with not even enthusiasm to go to the kitchen, much less go outside. But go outside I must. I have been excited about going to good ole Boots all week. That's pretty sad considering all the things I could be excited about. But I'm a girl. I realise I miss being a girl. I went on their website to look for super skin crap to pre-empt a rubbish look this weekend, and realised all the stuff I had been missing. lol. Revlon. Clinique. L'Oreal. And when I saw this, I was super excited. I wanted to run down to Boots right then and there - at 1am.

I have not seen this in forever. This is not a plug for them cause noone pays me to rate their stuff - though they should. But this mask is awesome. I used to use it waaaaay back in the day, when I still wore a school uniform and when school was fun. Actually my mum used to use it, and I used to sneak into her beauty bag and steal some. Then one day she came home and felt like "masking" and the bottle was empty. She was not amused, but my skin was awesome. So when I saw Boots had it, I got so exciiiited. Maybe it can magically transform me from this

It's true. I am not too far off from looking like this today

...to this in...oh...10 hours?

The lovely Gabrielle Union

That would be a 21st century miracle but, I am optimistic. I continued browsing the website, looking at girly stuff. Fun. My fave nail polish is £8 though. That kinda killed the excitement somehow. It's the same way I felt going into the mecca of Trininista aka the M.A.C. store and knowing that £11.50 single eyeshadow was not as important as food. Sigh. How life has changed.

I always remember a man asking me what my favourite brand was and I said without blinking - "M.A.C.". He goes, "Oh you're an Apple groupie." Stupid. lol. Don't you guys know?

Courtesy M.A.C. - Freshwater

Hope everyone has a beautiful Friday. We all deserve to feel pretty and beautiful today. And if I don't get my mask in my local Boots, I am gonna burn the store down.

Smooches.

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Reality TV: Funny Married People

Bill and Giuliana Rancic. Oh, the shoes, Giuliana.

I am sitting here, having an egg white omelette, fresh tomatoes and toasted rolls, with a cup of mochaccino, and watching Giuliana & Bill. I don't really watch a lot of tv these days except when I am having a meal and usually there is nothing on. So not a fan of the show but it is funny - funny in the way that as a woman I can feel sorry for poor Bill, the husband. This episode, which I imagine is an old episode, since everything here is late, is where Giuliana realises she is not legally married in the US, having had her wedding in Capri. First she goes to the instant photo mart to get a new passport photo for her new passport and this chick takes a full makeup bag, complete with eyelash curler, and a light box to have the right lighting for her photo. Her passport photo. Does anyone have a really awesome passport photo? They are usually just a step above a mug shot. It was pretty hilarious to see the photographer at this 30min photo place trying to take this generic photo as she did glamour poses, and he keeps telling her the photo has to be head on. Pretty easy, right? Nope. Poor guy.

Then, she needs to legalise her marriage in the US, which could have just been a quick trip to City Hall, a couple minutes in front of a judge and poof. Legal. Oh no...she goes complete bridezilla. The dress, the cake, the grand ballroom at the Four Seasons. Bill wants 2 people - just himself and her, she wants 500. I am still watching it and she is currently cake tasting and I am laughing my head off because I am saying to myself - This guy must really really REALLY love this woman. I love this dude. As a couple they are cute though - they balance each other out. She is a dreamer and he is a pragmatist. Pretty damn funny.

So cute. I need a change desperately.

In reality, nothing exciting. Just assignment work. Feeling pretty dismal and have not been able to shake it. I have a dinner date on Friday - a proper adult dinner - and that's the one ray of hope for the week. I need some high heeled therapy...clearly. I've also been seriously considering a pixie cut. I dunno - I need something. I have not cut my hair that short in well...ever. But it could be cute, I think. Maybe. I love Ginnifer Goodwin's pixie. Am I cute enough to pull it off? Not sure. I would probably need a job to pay for the regular maintenance of said haircut. Black hair needs extra love than other types of hair - love I am incapable of providing, hence the reason I have a dedicated hairdresser back home. Hair maintenance here in London is EXPENSIVE!!! On a student budget, that pixie cut would be a hot mess. lol. But one can dream and hope. I have not been feeling cute at all lately. I need skin products that I cannot find here, a facial, sleep - to erase the bags under my eyes.  My vanity and selfish money making ways are getting the best of me today. Sorry.

Until then, laughing at this silly show before I get back to work on this ridiculous assignment.

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Black is Beautiful, Vybz Kartel. Orange is for sundresses.

I really loathe statistics. I am being forced to do stats over these 2 weeks - all day, every day, for 2 weeks. Whose squirrel did I run over in a past life? I will not even fake it. I hate statistics. I will not pretend to be a good sport about it. I just hate it.

Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I really wanted to say something briefly about Vybz Kartel. For the non-Caribbean readers, Mr Kartel is a popular dancehall artiste from Jamaica who has recently been in the news, not for his music but for his appearance. Why? Well, he used to look like this - nice, unspoilt, sexy chocolate brown skin...

Now he looks like this -

I mean, the dude was not God's gift to women before, but now he is simply heinous. The phenomenon of bleaching in Jamaica, where black people feel some deep desire to apply bleaching products to their skin to lighten their appearance does not seem to be going away. With the transformation of Vybz Kartel from a healthy looking, not too bad looking chocolate coloured man, to this Frankenstein looking creature, I am really saddened that so many black people turn to such silly measures to try to keep up with European standards of beauty.

Vybz, in his interview on a radio station said he was not trying to distance himself from being a black man, but rather - and this really amused me - it's a "style". He said he put in orthodontic braces not because he needed them but because it was a style, and in the same way, he has been turning orange because it is a fashion statement. Vybz - a fashion statement is a pair of hot jeans, a new piece of bling, maybe some new shoes. Bleach is not a fashion statement. It's just being dotish. He went on to comment that he needed to highlight his numerous tattoos which were hard to see on the skin God blessed him with, so he just had to bleach so the world could see his artwork. Amazing.

The horrible thing about this is that he is a public figure in Jamaica and contrary to what he believes, people emulate him and people like him. So when he does this to himself, for whatever reason, he is simply propagating the belief that light skin, or in this case, nasty looking orange skin, is hip, happening and beautiful. I am even more disturbed that this gentleman is going to bring out his own line of "cake soap" - bleaching soap. So what are you telling young people about being black in this world?

It's the same issues I have with women who live by the frickin' weave. I call them the rebound weavers - women who cannot live without a weave; who jump from weave to weave; whose between-weave periods last less than 12 hours; who feel their beauty is somehow not enhanced when they are not wearing fake hair. Nutters. I have no problem with a black woman who wants to wear a weave or braids or what have you, for a new look, or as Vybz says, as a "fashion statement". Hell, I have two awesome wigs that I bust out when I feel the need to vamp it up. I love my wigs. I paid good money for my wigs.

But when noone can remember what you look like without fake hair sewn on to your head, or you get offended when someone else points out your weave to people who may not know, for example, white people, then I have a serious issue with this. What are you afraid of, or are you so consumed (and confused) by this image of beauty - of long, flowing hair around your shoulders, no matter whose head it came from, that you cannot fathom walking the street with your short natural hair. I remember how annoyed a friend - a male friend - was when I did a weave - seriously un-im-pressed.  Some men really find it unattractive, not to mention a form of false advertising. It can also be the butt of jokes, ridicule and disgust when you wear a weave. And though I have never been in one, let's not mention getting into fights with women - the first thing they go for in any scenario is the hair, so imagine wearing a weave in a catfight, and worse being in a catfight with dozens of onlookers. The shame. lol. These are among the many reasons, why I do not "ride or die" with the whole weave thing. Take me as I come, buddy. A dude told me this week, he does not date women who wear glasses. If that is the best he can come up with, then me and my $4000 glasses will be alright.

But I am really concerned that black people are questioning the beauty that they have. I see so many people running to the Caribbean to lie on a beach all day to darken their skin, while people like Vbyz "is a style" Kartel is destroying his beautiful brown skin with cake soap. And then you have the Naomi Campbells and Hollywood's black fashionistas who encourage little girls to want a weave for that straight haired look - the "good hair" look. This is a whole other argument which I know I had discussed on another forum, and this is all getting me rather pissed off, so I will stop.

And while I like to cast my eye on  a nice red man, this ain't it, Vybz. I would really like to know if there is any woman in her right mind who will now watch this orange, crusty looking Vybz Kartel and want to be seen with him. I am also curious - did he bleach everything????? I know the saying is once you go black, you never go back, but what do they say about once you go orange? I am really not willing to find out.

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