For my sisters after the flesh

I just came across this page about a South African singer named Mshoza and her physical transformation.

I don't know Mshoza from a can of paint, but what she has done to herself makes my heart ache for her. Who told that lady on the left that she was ugly, and why did she believe them?

Whoever it was, I wish I could punch them in the face. But even that would not change the belief problem. Maybe the simplest solution for that is a hearty dose of "Well, THAT"S stupid!"

For my part, I consider women beautiful, and Black women especially so.

By "beautiful," I do not simply mean sexually attractive. I mean aesthetically pleasing, with the curves not just of their hips or breasts but also of their noses and earlobes; the bend of a knee, the grace of a finger. Skin. Hair.

I am grateful for my wife and don't even want to want anybody else sexually; I hope that she knows that I find her beautiful (I've told her, but have I told her enough?).

But sometimes I also want to let other women know that I find them beautiful. I want to tell them.

Especially Black women. Because I know that so many have received so many messages throughout their lives that boil down to, "You're ugly."

Your skin is too dark. Your hair is too nappy. Your nose is too broad. Your lips are too thick. Your entire body is too thick.

You need chemicals, you need bleach, you need surgery.

Christian women are my sisters in the faith; Black women are my sisters after the flesh. I want every single one to experience whatever healing she needs to be healed of whatever she needs to be healed of. As a Black man, I want to be the brother who helps a sister to experience her healing. I want to tell Black women that they are beautiful.

But I don't. Convention binds me. Convention, and the fear of offending, and the fear of being considered weird.

I grew up with a really strong fear of offending women, which was exacerbated when social shifts seemed to deconstruct all the rules about how a gentleman should treat a lady - indeed, to deconstruct the very ideas of "gentleman" and "lady." Complimenting a woman on her appearance - not just her clothes, but her physical self - has become verboten.

So I'll be with someone in a social setting or a work setting, and when I want to say something like, "You're beautiful," I'll settle for complimenting her hair or her outfit (both of which are allowed). Or I don't say anything at all.

Maybe I'll experiment in 2013. Maybe I'll say "pretty" instead of "beautiful." Maybe I'll see if I can defuse any potential awkwardness by asking permission:

"I don't mean to be inappropriate, but is it okay if I tell you that I think you're awfully pretty?"

Maybe.

Meanwhile, if you're a Black woman reading this, consider yourself...appreciated.

About that Natural Hair Day idea...

In one of my most popular blog posts to date, I expressed the wish that Black women generally would wear natural hair styles, rather than feeling the need to straighten their hair. I ended the post by calling for a Natural Hair Day:

"Let there be ONE day out of the year when Black women everywhere feel free to wear the hair God gave them.

Who's in?"


I had no idea that such a day - or something close to it - already exists: National Natural Hair Meetup Day.

From the website:

"The International Natural Hair Meetup Day is an annual one-day event. Its purpose is to allow the opportunity for women across the country to meet in their own communities while networking, sharing and meeting (virtually) other women across the country participating in meetups on the same day. Natural hair meetups are events designed to share information, techniques, inspiration and products to aid individuals in their natural hair journey."

I consider this a great idea, so I was disappointed to learn that:

1. This year's NNHMD was on May 19, and
2. Pittsburgh was not listed among participating cities (Philadelphia was the only Pa. city with a listed event). 

On the other hand, having just missed this year's NNHMD means that Pittsburghers have nearly a full year to plan for next year's NNHMD, which will be Saturday, May 18.

So now my question is, do any Black women in Pittsburgh have a strong enough desire for this to happen here to help make it happen, here?

If so, I have a slogan for you: "Helping you to take good care of your good hair."

What about it, ladies?

On magazine ads, Afros, Viola and Wendy

On a recent grocery-shopping trip, I picked up a few magazines: Upscale, Uptown, Ebony. Doing my affluent Black culture thing.

As I started flipping through them, I saw this:

And this:

And this:

And within five minutes, I had a transformative moment: Suddenly, I was tired of seeing Black women with straightened hair. Gut-tired. Deep-down-in-the-bone tired.

What I said to myself was: "I don't care if I ever see another Black woman with straight hair in my life."

I ain't mad at Queen Latifah (come on - she's gorgeous) or anybody else for their choices. But I'm really, really tired of the assumption that Black women need to do all that much to their hair. I want Black women to wear the hair God gave them.

Wear it short. Wear it long. Wear twists, locks, braids or rock a downright dangerous 'Fro like Angela Davis or Roberta Flack did back in the day - y'know?

That feeling has been coming on for a long time, and there have been times when I have approached total strangers, women who do not know me from a can of paint, to thank them for wearing the hair God gave them. In fact, I did that just a few days ago. On Sunday afternoon, I volunteered at the August Wilson Center, helping to staff the ticket table for the performance of the HIV/AIDS-oriented stage piece, "Who Me?" I noticed that a security guard there was a lady with an Afro, and I told her about my transformative moment, and thanked her for her hair.

That night, for the first time in a long time, I watched the Oscars broadcast. When the camera panning the audience focused on Viola Davis, who was nominated for Best Actress for her role as Aibileen in "The Help," I noted that she was prettier than she looked in the movie - so much prettier that I didn't recognize her.

I didn't realize that I was watching a culturally significant moment, that Ms. Davis' appearance at the Oscars would be a matter of controversy. And by "appearance," I don't mean her being there. I mean the way she wore her hair.

Now, thanks to this piece by Kimberly "DrGoddess" Ellis, I've learned that there's a whole thing going about how Viola Davis wore her hair on Oscar night. Apparently, the always-bewigged talk show host Wendy Williams made disparaging comments about Ms. Davis natural look, comments that sparked an Internet firestorm.

Really, Wendy? In 2012, you have a problem with a Black woman wearing a natural hairstyle to a formal event, a hairstyle that even the L.A. Times said was "a hit"?? Really???

Dr Goddess (and on YouTube, beautifulEhuman) have responded eloquently as Black women. As a Black man, here's my ineloquent response: stuff a sock in it.

Black women, is there a Natural Hair Day? If not, let's declare one. Let there be ONE day out of the year when Black women everywhere feel free to wear the hair God gave them.

Who's in?