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March 30, 2005
blow out
my hair and i have been on a journey, and i'm happy to say that we've arrived at a safe and healthy place. i used to be a slave to the perm--had to have my hair bone straight (in fact, i think there's a perm named "bone straight."). before that, i endured braids, curls, and pressing combs. notice that each one of those endeavors has an element of pain involved. i was gonna try and explain how each feels, but there are just some things in life one has to experience.
anyway...i've given up the perm...been one year now and still going strong or curly or kinky or whatever...
but i guess part of me is still holding on to that straight-hair me because even now, i run my hair thru a flat iron. but not this time. as i sit here and compose this entry, my hair just is...free, wavy in some places, tightly curled in others. traces of red on the tips. a gray strand here and there. it's my hair. it's me. i like it.
i look different, but at the same time, it's still me, you know? it's going to be interesting to see how folks react. i'm sure that the students will have something to say...don't they always?
what's the larger issue? normalized standards of beauty that ignore the aesthetics of women of color. as forrest would say, "that's all i have to say about that." it's easy to theorize...just think about it. think about how beyonce is blonde and then some more blonde and a little more blonde. when she first got into the game, just a brown girl from texas tryin to make it big, she wasn't so blonde. no, no, no, no, no...
so, i'm sending out positive vibes to all my sisters doing the damn thing with perms, locks, 'fros, naturals, braids, curls, presses, weaves, and tracks. i know how it feels to walk into a borders bookstore and not be able to find a black hair-care magazine. i know how it feels to be an addition to a make-up line.
poem for the day
"painted me"
Elisa Marie Norris
i touch my skin
obsessed with imperfection
painted lips
extending lines on coal eyes
that make my look like i've lived a
summer in tuscany
plucked eyebrows
half moons
that pay no mind to the cycle
straw eyelashes heavy with mascara
i am a clown
no barbie dolls for ken to love
barbie never looked like me
brown plastic instead of peach
still blonde
still blue
still barbie
the toxins have made me ill
permeating my skin
staining my soul
my eyes feast on the image in the mirror
spiced with c7 mac foundation
c-thru lip glass
chestnut lip liner
look at the clown, ladies & gentleman
spotlight in the ring
look at me
Posted by emnorris at March 30, 2005 03:57 AM