Nearing the anniversary of my third Sisterlocks 'birthday'...

Anyone knowing me prior to the Fall of 2007 would not be surprised to see me in any number of multiple hues and lengths of hair pieces, weaves or shining wigs.  I loved the look but there was only one problem, it was just that...a look.  All the hairpieces, perms and extensions in my cache were covering up the most important element about myself.  That underneath it all, I didn't give my natural hair a chance, and after I thought about it for a while, I hadn't for a decade or so.
That summer, my sister was taking a big step in her artificial and damaging hair care woes herself leaving two choices-shave it all off or try something natural.  After some extensive research, she came up with something I had never heard of; Sisterlocks (http://www.Sisterlocks.com) and upon install, I knew she wouldn't be able to do this look alone, so I joined her. 
Sisterlocks was like a science project or my hair under cocoon status but for the first time in my life, I couldn't dictate the style.  My hair finally was able to breathe and obtain an

identity that would incorporate with its owner.  What I love telling everyone who is contemplating locks is to not think of Sisterlocks as a hairstyle...they are a frame of thought, an extension of self, and as life-changing as a commitment can be.  
For the next couple of months, I would captivatingly endure this commitment for a few reasons.  1) An in depth consultation explaining what Sisterlocks were, who designed the process and an educational and controversial new outlook on the history of black hair.  2) The initial investment to get started balanced out with the thousands of dollars I had spent over years in damaging processes in exchange for bi-monthly appointments for retightenings.  3) A future opportunity offered by Sisterlocks to start my own business passing on the education of keeping hair natural with provisions to maintain tress strength and styling options for Black women. 

My particular hair type, Afro-Indian in origin and full of variations from crown, to sides, the nape would prove quite a challenge in its attempts to revert and accept the locking process but I learned to love and baby my hair during this journey.  Definitely more attention than I had ever bothered to pay before or felt comfortable to embrace my naturalness by society's standards.  And where I used to receive admiration for my faux styles of the past, I was now getting puzzled looks as to why would I want to look unattractive and nappy.  That's when my eyes were opened to the invisible line and misconceptions in the hair world's hair dilemma.

 I was used to the light-skinned, dark-skinned debate, I was even used to the "good hair" malady but now there was another division between black women when in fact there should have been a celebration that yet there was another style of choice.  And where other nationalities had been able to emulate the Afro, cornrows and even 'dread' locks, Sisterlocks is exclusive to the curl patterns distinctive of coiled Afro indigenous hair.  Something else changed too...the response by men.  Men that may have found disapproval in 'fake' hair styles had a different outlook on women that chose natural hair, not limited to Sisterlocks. 

Vacationing in a Hawaii would be the true testament to the freedom of natural hair.  I had traveled previously to Mexico and the islands and never felt comfortable taking photographs because it was like a before and after take.  Off the plane, laying on the beach, all showed me with flowing weave but if I went out or wanted to jump in the pool without having to reconstruct a straightened style with frustration not to cause suspicion or take even 15 minutes out of my trip, were moments I hated to waste.  I wanted to have fun and be spontaneous like other travelers, it just didn't seem fair to afford the trip and still have the hassles of being at home endlessly turning kinky hair to straight.  But my natural hair promoting Sisterlocks changed that.  I would shower in the morning, pack my backpack for the day, walk along the beach, lay on the beach, drench myself in the ocean waters, get up, go find a place to eat and not have to return to the hotel room not one single time.  I thought I was in Heaven.  No hiding, no stress, spontaneity, and I could be ME the whole time.  I would never go back to straightening or hair pieces.  And when I got home, I worked out, swam, relaxed in the sauna without having to worry about my hair.

After that, I wanted to help others enjoy their experience as I was introduced only months before as a Sisterlocks trainee.  Performing the service of Sisterlocks is rewarding because you get to meet enlightened and newly converted women (and men) who are joining a network of support which transpires every time a new member becomes introduced.  Overall, the whole experience has been positive, educational and uplifting.  Gone are greasy products, thread, nets, glue, combs and brushes, cover-ups and hair that refuses length.  And although not a pre-requisite, knowing how to do my own hair is therapeutic as well.  There's a feeling of self-reliance of do-good in support of my natural locks not to mention I used to be quite efficient exerting my own weaves, extensions and relaxers.

I have had my share of battles however, yet no different than thinning hair or chemical burns.  Now I can make braids for waves or use "soft spikes" for curls.  The wind blowing through my hair, however is a feeling that many take advantage of and the list of discovery goes on with every new month...something more that I can write about, each new length, with the hopes that we all accept the hair choices we make.  My only wish is that with most things, become educated and do what is natural and healthy for your temple.  Nothing should make a person chose harming their body in the name of societal acceptance.
Peace and blessings to all!  Chelle

Hairstyle freedom of choice but research and analyze your options

http://www.essence.com/hair/commentary_1/commentary_hair_politics_natural_vs_permed.php has an interesting take on the politics of natural vs. everything else...

My viewpoint is that we all have a process that we go through when deciding whichever way to go and from my experience, it wasn't about me liking straight hair down my back, I was brainwashed that it was beautiful and that I really possessed it. I was covering up my nappy hair just as visibly as bleaching my skin (oh yes, I tried in my teens) and wondering why I wasn't being accepted after following all of society's 'directions'. The truth of the matter was that I hadn't accepted myself as being black or that God gave me what I had not to cover it, fill my scalp with poisons, choose weave over exercise and health or loss of identity every time I saw myself without a wig but to creatively access it and develop individuality, research my history and truly understand the origins of what I was putting my psyche through.

What I do agree with in this article is that choice is mandated in order to relish in the experience and appreciate the sensitivity of the issue at hand which to me, is black identity in itself. My problem is not that hair decides who is embracing blackness in the most attractive way but that we are not educated as to what we are addicting ourselves too. There is a mental stereo type that leads us to our decision to process, extend and cover our hair no matter how you dress it up. In that case, we should accept our people's history with drugs, crime, unhealthy diets, poverty, unequal education and welfare because it defines black people. We should celebrate just being proud of our blackness wherever the majority resides and either one is an acceptable definitive of being black.

Justifiably, it doesn't equate with enthusiasm and passion to choose either style without doing your research and that's where my position lies, placing the positive aspects over the negative ones. For example, if you're into a relaxer, fine? Just research what is going into that chemical, who sponsors it, are you putting monies back into your community or a black owned business, Asian, or European and what are the long term effects of these chemicals. This affair is not just about hair, this is about what is acceptable, normal and healthy in society and how to conform and survive within it.

The Statue of Liberty provides a lesson in Black History~a hoax

Just in case you receive this, it seems unbelievable that anyone would need to falsify information about our black culture but this happens quite often. Below is a detailed breakdown of this document...the author did go through a lot of work though to make this subject sound academically analysed...
http://www.snopes.com/history/american/liberty.asp


A Lesson in Black History

The Statue of Liberty

It is hard to believe that after my many years of schooling (secondary and
post) the following facts about the Statue of Liberty were never taught:

Hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of people including myself have visited
the Statue of Liberty over the years but yet I'm unable to find one person who
knows the true history behind the Statue...amazing!

Yes, amazing that so much important Black history (such as this) is hidden from
us (Black and White). What makes this even worse is the fact that the current
twist on history perpetuates and promotes white supremacy at the expense of
Black Pride!

During my visit to France I saw the original Statue of Liberty. However, there
was a difference...the statue in France is BLACK!!!!!!

"Ya learn something new everyday!"

The Statue of Liberty was originally a Black woman. But, as memory serves, it
was because the model was Black. In a book called "The Journey of The Songhai
People," as Dr. Jim Haskins (a member of the National Education Advisory
Committee of the Liberty-Ellis Island Committee, professor of English at the University of
Florida, and prolific Black author, points out that is what stimulated the
original idea for that 151 foot statue in the harbor. He says that the idea for
the creation of the statue initially was to acknowledge the part that Black soldiers played in the
ending of Black African Bondage in the United States.

It was created in the mind of the French historian Edourd de Laboulaye, Chairman
of the French Anti-Slavery Society, who, together with sculptor Frederic Auguste
Bartholdi, proposed to the French government that the people of France present
to the people of the United States through the American Abolitionist Society, the gift of a
Statue of Liberty in recognition of the fact that Black soldiers won the Civil
War in the United States. It was widely known then that it was Black Soldiers
who played the pivotal role in winning the war, and this gift would be a
tribute to their prowess.

Suzanne Nakasian, director of the Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island Foundations'
National Ethnic Campaign said that the Black Americans' direct connection to
Lady Liberty is unknown to the majority of Americans, BLACK or WHITE.

When the statue was presented to the US. Minister to France in 1884, it is said
that he remonstrated that the dominant view of the broken shackles would be
offensive to the U.S. South because the statue was a reminder of Blacks winning
their freedom. It was a reminder to a beaten South of the ones who caused their defeat, their
despised former captives.

Documents of Proof:

(1.) You may go and see the original model of the Statue of Liberty, with the
broken chains at her feet and in her left hand. Go to the Museum of the City of
NY, Fifth Avenue and 103rd Street (212) 534-1672 or call the same number and
dial ext. 208 and speak to Peter Simmons and he can send you some documentation.

(2.) Check with the N.Y. Times magazine, part II May 18, 1986.

(3.) The dark original face of the Statue of Liberty can be seen in the N.Y.
Post June 17, 1986, also the Post stated the reason for the broken chains at her
feet.

(4.) Finally, you may check with the French Mission or the French Embassy at the
U.N. or in Washington, D.C.and ask for some original French material on the
Statue of Liberty, including the Bartholdi original model. You can call (202) 944-6060 or 6400.

Please pass this information along! Be sure to send it to people with children!
Open a dialog and discuss it with your friends! Let this be the beginning of
your quest for the Truth about American History past and present!

Empower Yourself, Your Family and Your Community!

Gravitational Genealogy

While studying the solar system, I began to ponder the mystery of the human life cycle in relationship with the universe. It seems amazing to me that however one wishes to believe how the solar system was created, the Earth possesses an undeniable and miraculous ability to be the only planet which after billions of years has sustainable life. And not just any kind of life, a thinking, reasoning, spiritual and everlasting existence.
Space is inevitably without boundary, no matter how far man attempts to stretch technology with satellites and space missiles, he is unable to unlock the secrets of this galaxy in totality. Not to mention how many vast, newly forming galaxies are being developed as we live out our lives. So here's my revelation theory to the human life cycle.
Back in 1996, all I had ever known was the rarity of our five-generation family. There was my great grandmother, her daughter, my mother, me and at the time, my son. So let's suppose that back in 1899, my great grandmother's birth was the equivalent to the solar nebula of our family's genera. As our galaxy maintains a swirling, gravitational pull of the planets against the Sun, so our family increased with age. Each generation started a new planetary orbit around my great-grandmother and new births (children) were as moons around each planet where at the time of 1996, we had our Sun and four gravitational planets or life-cycles. So imagine the life of the planetary system if anything ever happened to our Sun? Every planet with a rotating axis of purpose and functionality no longer is held to the dominion of its galaxy. In order for the universe to survive, there would be a need for an immediate, appointed transfer of energy to a new, rejuvenated Sun to hold the gravitational pull for the next era.
When my great-grandmother passed of natural causes in 1996, my grandmother immediately passed two weeks later due to cancer. In a matter of weeks, my family had lost two separate energy sources or stars while my mother was in no condition to take over as position of the Sun, due to obvious grief, however each planetary equivalent and its satellites needed our orbits to be pulled back into synchronization for universal strength. For a period of some years, our family lost its gravitational pull.
Now of course every "gravitational genealogy" praxis appears unique in physical matter and mechanics, however universally, I think as humans, we act in a similar manner when we loose that member of the family that acts as the unit's "Sun". The survival instinct of the family unit ultimately depends on the posthaste preparation of replacing this necessary position. Without this center, most families lose touch with the other members (planets and moons) almost immediately. In many cases, if you lose a monumental Sun there may need to be an interchange or cohesion between dueling forces (siblings in most cases). Regardless of the energy source, without someone to pull it all together, the others go spinning out of orbit, losing touch with their galaxy (descendants) and planetary bodies (current relatives) creating the demise of the solar system (family).
Which leads to the next theory...does the "Sun" return to the universe (Heaven?) after passing...I'll leave that for another discussion but wouldn't that make the universe even more precious, everlasting and explain the beauty of Heavenly bodies?
In closing, losing a major member of your family is devastating. The survival of each of our separate galaxies depends on the resilience of surviving members to replace its power source. Weak systems fight with dwindling energies by struggling for control (life insurance, the estate and forgetting to carry on the dying star's ancestral memory). It is mandatory to keep order and peace, remembering that the survival of your universe is vital to continue each of our destined Sun's existence (memory) while here on Earth. Realistically, isn't the universe (life) chaotic on its own?
Consequently, feel free to banish aides of destruction (renegade comets) to your solar system into parabola as necessary...this includes pesky ex's and twice removed relatives. :-)

The joy of winning...

Mom loved her card games and gambling and although I don't know where she got the fever, I know it gave her joy. When computer software came with several versions of solitaire, you couldn't get her off of the computer. She loved bid whist, scratch tickets, the dog track, horse races and when Blackhawk and Central City opened up in the Colorado Hills, she could disappear for hours. She had so much fun winning, and when she won comps in restaurants, she would take us along and we could invite our friends. A couple of times, she let some people we didn't even know join us. She loved sharing the winning feeling and even though I wasn't a fan of gambling and what it represented, when she found out she was sick, she still tried with all her strength to make it to those hills. The day she had to physically let it go because her body lacked in energy, I think she began to lose her will because the thrill of the trip gave her life meaning and the anticipation of winning was exciting. The lights, the environment, the clinging of the coins, the other players, all represented the big pay back. But what if that is what life is? A series of games, experiences, challenges, where the object is to win some, lose some...we're all in this big world together hoping to get the shot at making it big and that is what keeps us going. Big doesn't have to be a cash prize, it could be whatever your heart desires and your willingness to lay your bid on the line to achieve the kitty.
I know the place where she exists in spirit is the big pay back...winnings beyond comprehension and a prize too large for one to hold. And after seven years, I know she's still watching over us all, guiding us towards our individual jackpots and hopefully, we'll learn to pay our blessings forward...to me, that is the true joy of winning on a day in the remembrance of a life that only exists in memory...R.I.P. Mom and thank you for showering us with protection, riches and blessings from above where no longer do we wonder how and why, we just say, 'thank you'.

Disturbing 'talent'...

Although this isn't really inspiring, I've had this series of experiences a couple of times and don't really know what to do with this energy so I figured it's something I'm supposed to write about.
On May 17th, I was returning a book from my classes for a refund and needed something to fill the box with so the book wouldn't shift around. I had these old Entertainment Weekly magazines that I'd never looked at so I decided what better way to recycle them? I started ripping pages, crumbling them and tossing them into the box until I got to this article. I notice a picture of Gary Coleman under the heading of deaths and I'm like, "Oh my God, Gary Coleman's dead and this is the best picture they could find?" However, the current day is in May, the article was from a January edition and if you look to the left, his topic is under 'Arrested'. For some reason, I finished tearing pages from this edition and kept it. While watching an episode on Boondocks 11 days later, a caption popped up in remembrance of his passing May 28th.
That same week, I was putting in a Netflix order online and had this haunting urge to rent 'Blue Velvet'. Now if you've ever seen this macabre movie, it's not the kind of movie you want to revisit unless you're in a seriously dark mood so I watched 'Requiem to a Dream' instead. (:-), I'm serious!) Sunday, May 30th, we received a delivered edition of 'The Sun' newspaper because Demetrius wanted to get the news in paper form and this was our first copy since he ordered it. Looking at the first page, I scrolled down to the very bottom and with a small picture and a few lines was the memorial of Dennis Hopper, who starred in the grim tell, where I had unknowingly heard that he passed away in Venice, CA as well.
However, my most frightening experience was last year. Although my son no longer has his Brotherlocks, I was working on retightening his hair for the last time in early Summer 2009. If anyone knows my son, they will know that ever since he could walk, he (with the help of my Mom~R.I.P.) was the most loyal fan that Michael Jackson could ever have. We were watching a VHS (yes, not DVD!) of Moonwalker and it was definitely seeing it's last days. I had asked Martell why didn't he just break down and buy the DVD and he said because it wasn't available; he'd tried the year before. So I told him to do a search again this year because if anything ever happened, "to that boy, you'll never get a copy". So we ordered it and he died 6 days later. Puzzling even more so, there was this killer rain storm the moment I heard it~it was a force like how he portrayed his videos~I could almost hear that 'scream' that he used to do with chaotic winds. I remember the rains flooding I-25 and Colorado BLVD in like minutes and then as quickly as it blew in, it left with a strange calm.
And finally (yes, this is all just within a few weeks), my sister calls me to tell me that African Story Teller Opalanga Pugh died on June 5 ( http://www.essence.com/news/hot_topics_4/opalanga_pugh_professional_storyteller_d.php ), and had I heard so I could relay the info to a friend of mine who went to college with her. After chatting for about 15 minutes, I hung up the phone to dial my friend and her name popped on caller I.D. So I was like, "Hi...and I guess you know that I know why you are calling me?" And she answered, "To tell you Opalanga passed away?" and I said, "That's right because of course my sister was worried that you didn't know so now that we've all tele-communicated...", and she ended with, "Alrighty then? That's basically all I had called you to inform you about." I finished with, "Ok, you take care then...and thanks for the connection."
As Forest Gump quoted, "And that's all I have to say about that..."
'Chelle

The Freedom of Locs!

For a period of around 7 or 8 years, I did my best to find ways to save up and travel and least once every other year. With each trip, be it a cruise to the islands, Cancun or the sunny beaches of Florida, they all had one thing in common...the existence of my wig or weave. So here I would go getting to my destination with my cute little sarongs, colorful bathing suits and various summer wear and as soon as I would approach the beach or swimming pool, I had to dress down like a tomboy because I was gettin' in that water! But that meant I either had to wear a bandanna and bob around to not wet my tracks or take off the wig and put on a cap or wrap of some kind. I was constantly in disguise.
When I was blessed with an opportunity to go to Hawaii however, I had just had my weave for a little over a year and man oh man, was my trip altogether different. I would wake up, put on my cute outfits, take to walking around and make my way to the beach and that was the real test. When I could lay on my towel, get up and run to the water and jump in? Wow! It was like, so this is VACATION?! No inhibitions, just like all the other happy tourists around me. I didn't have to protect my doo because it was what it was...natural.

Hairpocrisy could be defined as...

a pretense of having some desirable or publicly approved attitude about your natural hair through society's negative perception of its nappiness.
There was a time when I actually believed that I had straight, long hair without snag and acceptable to all of society. But there was so much deception that had been planted into my head for as far back as I could remember.
Going through school, participation in gym, swimming or any sport that would disable the press and curl that took forever to process was definitely a deterrent and for that fact only. I knew that once I came up from the first plunge, my hair would take on a totally new look~and it wasn't straight.
For the last 20 years, I sported so many different styles and hair colors, photos can't even explain. Many of them, I learned to do on my own and the mind altering truth was when I received compliments of how beautiful "my hair" was. I had the response down too. Of course it's mine, I bought it! But I needed more once I turned 40 and with the help of my younger sister (who was also going through the same struggle) we discovered Sisterlocks. Now, I am a certified trainee to retighten Sisterlocks and my sister, son and myself are indebted to the process. My niece, after almost two years, is finally taking the plunge as well. Sisterlocks is the most natural locking process available and I haven't used any type of hair grease, oily moisturizers or harmful ingredients on my scalp since. My natural hair is a way of life now and I'm more confident however, there is a stigma that lies with locks. My son feels it more than I due to its relation to drugs, criminal behavior and threatening behavior of black men whose "dread locked hair" is culturally stereotyped in addition to black skin.
At this point however, locks will just have to be reckoned with as not a personality trait and more in line with a choice to wear natural hair...I'll never put another chemical, heat treatment or hair addition to prove allegiance to be accepted in society.
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-286632

How do we know when it's our time?

A week before my 22nd birthday, my father passed away and my world was shattered. But he showed 'signs' of knowing with a desperation to travel to my place in Dallas from Denver for a visit that turned out to be his last.
Seen in this picture is my great grandpa Jarman and my Dad, Norvette Brown. I've included below an excerpt from the story I wrote about this experience.

...Dad had mentioned that he had something important to give to me and wanted to drive down and hand it to me personally. Gladly, I accepted the invitation not knowing much about the condition of his diabetes. His conversation was puzzling as he told me that lately he had been dreaming of little children happily dancing around him. He wanted to talk about a newfound peace that he was experiencing with a burst of life energy allowing for this trip.
In a futile attempt to stop him from driving, I told him that if he didn't feel up to it, I would gladly pay for a bus ticket instead...he refused. His main objective was to drive down so that he could 'see things', so I respected his wishes. That next day as I anxiously waited for a call from Dad, I received a call from a Sheriff in a county line town in Colorado.
The Sheriff showed much concern for my Dad's state of mind as he began explaining that my Dad was disoriented thinking that he was in Texas on his way to visit me. He also told me that they were holding him at the jail because legally he could not drive because his license stated that he was legally blind (due to the diabetes). The anxiety was beginning to show in my voice because I was puzzled as to why my Dad would knowingly break the law...why didn't he take the bus like I had offered?
Not knowing these facts about his failing health, the Sheriff continued stating Dad was lucky to be alive because he had been in a car accident with an 18-wheeler that ran him off the wrong side of the road. Apparently, he had made it as far as New Mexico and out of confusion, he made a turn that sent him back into the direction of Colorado! What kind of quest was Dad going on and why was he not thinking in his right mind?
Surprisingly, the Sheriff agreed to put my Dad on the next bus to Dallas with nothing more than one Panasonic home stereo system with full sized speakers. The next morning at the bus station, I welcomed my nervous, yet excited father from his exhausting ordeal. When we made it to my apartment, Dad seemed antsy and uncomfortable...he had left all of his belongings in his wrecked station wagon (clothing and insulin) so he showered and temporarily wore a robe of mine and I chuckled at the thought of him not even caring he was wearing his daughter's silken, silver bath garment.
That night, he refused to sleep, staring in the distance, rocking back and forth on the couch and knowing he was tired I noticed the condition of his swollen feet...I had never seen gangrene before.
After finally falling asleep on the couch, I slowly crept over to my Dad who was breathing soundly in a deep sleep but I couldn't wake him. When I called the ambulance and told him he was a diabetic, their response was that he was in a diabetic coma, their arrival was immediate and they gave him insulin that he hadn't had since the accident. He responded favorably at the hospital so I decided to go into work. Before I could leave work for the evening, the hospital called and said he had passed away due to complications.
After everything was said and done, I began to analyze chronologically all that initially I couldn't understand before. My Dad's trip was not a visit, it was an appearance of a delusion that overtook his thought process. He knew his time was limited and he ignored the odds and gave it to God. My Dad shouldn't have survived that accident, and he must have met the only Sheriff (which for some reason I never took the information down for this guardian angel) that had the compassion to put a strange man on a bus, no cost to me, towards a destination hundreds of miles away, at the request of someone he didn't even know except through a conversation the phone. I quickly found this type of divine intervention would become the norm in a series of life experiences destined for my future. I believe under God's favor, he gives us a 'grace' period and how merciful is that?

Hilarious Dream Experience...

While relaxing in the afternoon with D, I enjoy nestling my head into his chest as he takes a quick nap before going to work. As he's drifted into slumber, I find comfort in listening to his heartbeat and cradled in the warmth of his skin. Gently, he pulls me closer to him and I feel even more secure and loved...and in a fleet of seconds, I feel his legs jolting as if he is running in his dream. I look up and carefully, not to startle him from his dreamy moment, I ask him lovingly, "Where are you running sweetie?" Smiling and with his eyes still closed, he grins and pleasingly drawls, "I made a touch down..." and when he looked down at me starting to transition from fantasy to reality, I softly giggle and said, "So, my head was your football?" We died laughing!

Hollywood's First Black American Movie Star

I was watching a very interesting documentary called "Why We Laugh: Black Comedians on Black Comedy". http://festival.sundance.org/2009/film_events/films/why_we_laugh_black_comedians_on_black_comedy
It was an amazing journey down memory lane watching clips from Dave Chappelle, Eddie Murphy, Richard Pryor, Red Foxx, Flip Wilson, Nipsy Russell, etc. and all the way back to the first notorious, trivial and scarred black comedians named Lincoln Perry aka Stepin Fetchit. Personally, I had never heard of him however a friend of mine had and his story was most remarkable even though he has been dubbed "the laziest man in the world". His rise to fame and millionaire status undoubtedly paved the road for future black entertainers however, he paid an embarrassing and demeaning price. One that would leave a legacy of abandonment of his works as entertainment art and although he was extremely intelligent, he was an opportunist of the times. The catch was that he had to conform to the beliefs of white society of the 1920's and 1930's and that was through the ridicule of his minstrel character.
The following article briefly depicts a bittersweet account of the success and demise of Lincoln Perry's climb to fame and fall from grace in the hands of the NAACP and Hollywood.
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=5245089

How relevent is The Secret?

About three years ago, Martell and I watched a DVD called The Secret and although I have always reiterated to him that we all have abilities to control our destiny through envisioning and making it so, I had just never seen it documented before. I was blown away and using test samples in every day life. I began trying to redirect my life by focusing on what I longed for and not what I felt I could not have.
One of the first lessons I would learn is that the universe doesn't let you 'have it all' just because or without clear, concise will of positive energy. It can't...the universe is naturally chaotic...which is why even though everyone would love to win the lottery, or the casino jackpot or any type of winning through chance, it is not possible. If this were the case, instead of a few large winners, there would be millions of small winners, case in point, it wouldn't be the lottery anymore if everyone was a winner? I'm not saying it's a guaranteed thing to win things through thought, just an attitude adjustment that it belongs to you and so the universe has to work to make it so (in all things).
The second thing was, I began to 'see' things, almost as if revealed. Especially when it came to Motor V. If there was challenge and I had put into the universe that I resisted against wrong doing, a trivial matter would sprout before my eyes waiting to see if I would put my money where my mouth was. But I didn't back down to the challenge, and I learned to love these tests because they helped me grow; spiritually and in mental strength. I felt there was no battle I couldn't conquer and there was no weapon from an outsider wishing ill-will which could strike against me and defeat the cause of good or advancement.
Finally, there is powerful energy in human emotion. If you've ever walked into a room where two or more people feel anger towards each other, you physically 'feel' the tension. And vise versa, when you see two people gazing into each other's eyes lovingly, your emotions soften not necessarily because you're in love but because there's love in your presence. Even tears or fear are contagious to those of us that are emotionally in tuned with our environment.
For example, when rumors of my branch closing were constantly rising, I prayed not to be put into the middle of something that was out of my control. I tried to prepare my staff for the best and the worst and I knew my destiny was restructuring to be somewhere else.
Right when I had gone through a series of transitions-new hair style, new management position, new branch opportunity, new surgery, new house-I needed to conquer a few things, leap some hurdles, organize and see results, face fears and I took the opportunity to not run and jumped into solving situations whether I knew the battle would be a lonesome one or if I had support. If it was in the name of right, I was taking it on. Man did I feel the force of time and space as well as a growing number of enemies that had to do their job as well when I took ownership of an ordeal.
At the height of all this activity, that's when a very special individual came back into my life from nearly two years earlier. My discovery was that we were both going through life changing events and we were able to provide support for the other. Once we bonded again, our lives intertwined and connected at such a rapid speed, I don't know how it all fell into place but it did. This new beginning is surreal at most times but it was because I had put so much of my heart and soul into an organization that didn't really want me there. Surprisingly enough, it hurt to let it go because I thought I was making a difference in other people's lives so I had let go of my own life. When I asked the universe to give me an opportunity to be in a relationship where I could love and grow with someone that simply wanted the same thing, I understood that for so many years, I had mastered motherhood, management but couldn't keep a relationship without trying to control it to no avail. I also specifically asked for the chance to finish my schooling without so much obstruction, I was exhausted from the demands and drama from work and I wanted peace and relaxation for a change.
My first position before all others however, was to get Martell situated for a new life without me being so accessible in his life. Just the thought of severance hurt to let him go off on his own but we have both grown from the experience. His success is monumental and definite in my requests where every battle is overcome with a step closer to his destination and I pray it's God's will that I witness it.
If you would have asked me this time last year where I would be today, I would have not even bat an eye when stating that "only 14 more years to go until retirement....I'll never leave motor vehicle....it's all I know...they need me here." Never in a million years would I have said that I'd be leaving that 20 year career, dashing to the desert of Fontana, in a flourishing, supportive and nurturing relationship, finishing my degree, with endless possibilities for a new future journey. A chance in sharing my life with someone that doesn't want to feel a similar emptiness and didn't want to hurt or be used any longer, there was an upcoming hope where I envisioned a promising lifestyle; I could breathe and start over and I'm doing just that...amazingly because I asked for it.

http://www.thesecret.tv/top-secret-summary-of-teachings.html

I loved being a red head...

It didn't matter whether it was synthetically straight, human yaki or Indian wavy, I couldn't get enough of being a red-head. I think for awhile I had convinced myself that if I prayed hard enough, I could turn my sandy brown, naturally thin, covered up hair into Riverdance Auburn and I could just live my life happily ever after. But all and all, I didn't really want to go out into society unless I had my bangs, my shoulder length, my blowin' in the wind, apparition of self. I mean, it felt good when I could fit in and hear things like, "I love your hair", or "I wish I could change mine in so many ways", these statements were in such opposition to, "Too bad you don't have good hair...you'd be really pretty then?"
The majority of my adult life was in convincing myself that until I let go of the mask, I would never know who I really was. Too scared to run, get snow in my hair, get into to sauna, hell? Sweating was a big, uhh-uhh! From the mid-90's up until 2007, I didn't really know what my natural hair looked like unless it was during the 'in between' period.

Transitional Beginnings...

Before I found a vehement yearning to conquer my fear of life without weaves and relaxers, I reveled and embraced covering up my inner self. The more hair I added, the more you couldn't see me and in the beginning, it was a comfort. I wanted to see my beauty in pictures so I spent $300 every 6 weeks to have the auburn weave creation of my lifetime because I needed visual proof that I was beautiful and I wanted it confessed in pictures.
After my third failed attempt in a long term relationship, I did just that. I was beginning to drown into the possibility that I would find the love of my life and that he would be black. And I was torn because I wanted to give him that back too but without my issues of extended tresses. Seemingly, there wasn't an issue with finding a relationship with a willing participant but keeping the interest alive was more difficult. I wanted to give my man sexy, exotic, intelligence but most of all be an active companion.
My dilemma, however, was being able to join in any type of activity that included altering my hair's appearance. For example, I could shake it at the club and dress it up and have it down my back, but when the lights went out and the bobby pins were undone, this extension of myself (wigs in this case), went into the nightstand. Now, I've become the imposter of a vixen that couldn't measure up with the original package.

After a little over a year or so, it didn't take long for me to realize that it was time to throw away the combs, brushes, hair dryers and multitude of hair 'care' products that I had accumulated and experimented with over the years. Sisterlocks was a lifestyle change, not a hair-do so I had to commit totally by shedding my old way of thinking. However, my weakness was still the mischievous obsession with my skin-toned colored hair! A little water/lemon juice/dash of peroxide in my spray bottle and voila! It's my challenge but conformity starts with baby steps and I am definitely toddling! But I was smiling now. My confidence increased because my new look signified that I was ready for confrontation, strange looks or compliments for that matter, which although they came, they weren't always from my black sisters; unless they were naturally locked as well. I was willing to deal with that though. My sister had started this family trend and when Martell joined the ranks, I thought, "Now this is catchy and something that represents us as a family..." I've never felt so connected to being proud of my blackness never in my life and even though shamed, I knew that change is a constant state of growth in every life journey and I accepted anything upcoming with a universal shield of conquest. My first battle? Of water, snow and steam! :-)

The ideology of Avatar

So I finally got to watch Avatar via Netflix and its timing was impeccable in relation to the African politics course I just finished. Although usually, I get wrapped up with the ingenuity of today's special effects, the storyline reminded me of the demise of African culture. From the outside, is the military and scientists who are interested in the mining of a rare mineral [unobtanium] in the lands of Pandora [Africa], but the 'savages' who live on these lands don't realize the value of such a unique treasure [diamonds, silver, gold, oil...]. They are tranquil in their world and express a oneness with their environment around them by understanding the tranquility of keeping peace with the simple way of life. However, once discovered by the military and scientists [imperialists], there are immediate actions to befriend and experiment through infiltrating 'the people' of Pandora; learning their language, customs and culture. Once the decision has been made to expose reality and to take Pandora by force, 'the people' attempt to fight back with weaponry unmatched to military technology with expeditious attempts to adjoin other tribes to help fight the cause. With divine interventions possible only through the assistance of the imposter's who now appreciate and want to help the 'enemy', the feats of the most spirit-filled and universally willed sacrifice their way of life while winning against all odds. But the most puzzling I found were the people themselves...although beautiful, there was an obvious resemblance and connection to how Africans-both pre-colonial and current-are viewed today; colored, elementary, savage, 'monkey' like, barefoot, in need of transition and I don't even want to go there with the tail? I know my view is an interpretation but until I had taken this course, I probably wouldn't have given these creatures a second thought. I guess my point is, education and awareness opens so many doors to the possibility of our imagination and our realism of life and reasoning.

In October of 2007, I decided with the guidance of my younger sister, to enter into unknown territory of wearing natural hair. For the past 10 or so years, I experimented in so many types of hair styles that I can't even imagine that I convinced myself that I actually had an original look.
I can't even tell you how changing to natural hair (of any kind) gives you an inspirational courage like no other cosmetic change can even attempt to battle.
All the time that I spent on doctoring, covering, altering and damaging my already struggling hair, I now have time to spend reflecting, educating and uplifting my new individual personality.
Spending so much money in the destruction of what the Matrix so accurately characterized as a creation of my digital self or in other words, what I wanted everyone else to perceive me as, I was beginning to run out of disguises.