Hand Jobs

I have become my own nail artist. After another poor manicure from a local nail salon, I decided to do my own nails. By doing this I keep my money in the black community. Now when my nail polish chips quickly, I don't get upset because I didn't waste $2o. I am going to perfect my skills. I have been doing my own nails for only a couple of months and I consider creating nail art a new hobby. Initially, I tested out my skills on my students at my job. They were in love! I love being able to do my nails. Since I'm right-handed, the challenge is for my left hand to be able to mimick my right hand. So far, I'm on my way to becoming great. I would love to go to cosmetology school to learn more about nail technology. I have done a little bit of research and the schools that I have looked up pretty much offer the same education. If I were to become a licensed nail technician, that would equal $$$$. That would be one heck of a side hustle. Imaginge me: Educator, Writer, Nail Tech? Sounds awesome to me. There's nothing like being a well-rounded individual.

What do think of my skills so far? Have you been thinking of a side hustle of your own? What would be your ultimate hustle?

Nappy

It has been nearly a year since my big chop. I have received a tremendous amount of positive feedback since breaking away from the creamy crack a.k.a. hair relaxer. I heard comments like, “You’re brave,” “You show strength,” “You’re beautiful,” and my favorite, “You belong on the cover of Ebony.” It would be an absolute honor to grace the cover of that magazine, but I don’t know if that opportunity will ever present itself. I’ve been keeping my hair low, but now I am growing it longer to have the ability to wear more styles. I love my hair. Even with it being in that meatloaf-looking awkward stage, I love to twist it, pull it, rub it, and stare at it. It’s full and healthy. I can no longer drive a comb through my thick hair. I have to use a pick. I thought it would be a bit of a challenge to physically deal with my real hair, but I was wrong. The real challenge that I am having with my hair is name-calling. I want to end the verbal abuse. Why is it so hard to not call my hair nappy?

When I shared with my sister and my best friend that I would like to put an end to calling my hair nappy, they both asked, “Then what would you call it?” My response was, “It’s tightly curled.” With their laughter slightly held back, they said, “Good luck with that.” I could tell that they both thought that I was crazy. Is there really no other way to describe my hair? One could automatically jump to describing it as kinky, but what the hell is that? I know that the term means curly, but the weight of the negative connotation outweighs the denotation. I wouldn’t call my hair kinky. When I look at my hair in the mirror and when I look at it sitting on my hair pick, I see curly hair. Why is it crazy to call my hair curly?

Black people have been so brainwashed into calling our hair nappy. When I hear the word, nappy, I think of separation—the bad from the good—the inferior from the superior. The word nappy is a venomous word invented to leave black people paralyzed, disabling us from calling our hair curly. The word caused us hate our God-given hair. Many of us wouldn’t want to be caught dead with nappy hair. Calling our hair nappy is saying that we don’t love our hair. It’s saying that our hair is bad; and it’s saying that it is inferior. That’s the unfortunate reason why it’s crazy to call it curly. We should not continue to call our hair nappy.

There is nothing wrong with my natural black hair. I find it very difficult to break away from the habit of calling my hair nappy. It was easier for me to control myself from eating basket-loads of bread. Why is this reality for so many people, particularly for women? Some are assumed or accused of being gay just because their hair looks less feminine. Some of us have to be mindful of what we wear, particularly plaid shirts—as if lesbians have a uniform. The only man I know who talked about his struggle with hair was Malcolm X. In his autobiography, in the chapter titled “Homeboy,” Malcolm X revealed how ridiculous he was when he decided to put a conk (homemade hair relaxer) in his hair. His relaxed hair was an emblem of shame. To continue to call my hair nappy is evidence that the shame still exists. It just feels so engrained in my brain and in my DNA to just naturally call my hair nappy.

It’s pure craziness, but it’s real how hair affects the perception of others. Hair has power. It has the power to cause people to be amazed, amused, or ashamed. Having natural hair has empowered me to realize that relaxed hair is enslaved hair. Having had relaxed hair for twenty-four years, I know first-hand that it requires more money and more time to maintain relaxed hair than natural hair. With relaxed hair, black women have to battle with two hair types. We were conditioned to think that maintaining our real hair is tough and exhausting and not worth dealing with it. Relaxed hair is not as convenient as many women think. The prime reason I cut off all my hair was because I was tired of having to spend so much time in the salon. None of us ever want to step into a salon only to find out that we are next after the chick getting the full-head weave. I don’t have to worry about scratching my head too hard. Relaxed hair requires a much bigger commitment.

However you all choose to wear your hair is not my concern. I just feel that my hair should stop being called nappy. But why is it so hard for me to stop saying it? You all can call me crazy if you want, but I have to break this habit. We all should break this habit. I have not been doing a great job at this task, but I am determined. I have made it a priority for me to stop insulting my strong and versatile African hair. My hair does not make me any less worthy of acquiring the things God already promised to me. And it doesn’t signify that anyone is better than me. It has saved me money and I no longer have to worry about it getting wet by precipitation or perspiration.

What do you think? Should I continue to work on breaking my bad habit or should I just throw in the towel and embrace the word? How do you feel about the word nappy? Should this N-word be knocked out of our vocabulary or not?

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all! Another year being single on V-Day. Nothing new. Today at work I wore my sweater that reads: "I (Heart) My Hood." I have a shirt that reads: "I (Heart) Dick," but that would have caused a little stir at the job--too risky. I cannot afford to end up on the unemployment line. A student gave me a box of chocolates, so that made me feel more appreciated today. Plus, there was a Valentine's Day party at the end of the day at work. It felt good to dance off a little tension after dealing with a classroom of students.

I just finished submitting my application to become a teaching fellow. After weeks of contemplating and trying to think of reasons to not apply, I decided to give it a shot. I just completed my BA in English, and I really did not feel like looking at another professor, another syllabus, or a freaking textbook. I wanted to take a year off, but the people around me kept telling me to apply anyway and keep going. I know that they did not want to see me take a year off from school and never end up going back to college. I really think I need a break from school, but a lot of people told me that Graduate school is not as stressful as Undergraduate school. So my Valentine's Day gift to myself, besides the new jacket, was submitting my application to become a teaching fellow. For those of you who don't know, a teaching fellow is a person that receives a subsidized Master's degree when he or she agrees to teach in a high-need public school in New York City. They receive a teacher's starting salary, grants, and other perks for becoming one of New York City's Brightest.

That's all for now. Now I am going to watch RuPaul's Drag Race on my DVR. Ta-Ta.

It's Official!

It's official. According to my transcript, I have been awarded my Bachelor of Arts degree in English. In the words of Deacon Def Jam, "Ching-Ching! Hallelujah!" I have completed my undergraduate studies...finally! It took a while for me to do it, but I did it. I feel like I am on top of the world, as cliche as that sounds. I am the first amongst my siblings to have achieved this degree. Hopefully, I will not be the last. As I write this, What's next? Stay tuned.

Vincent's Blessing

You belong to the city
You belong to the night
In the river of darkness
He’s the man of the night
-“The City is Mine” by Jay-Z

I began to sing these words that make up the hook of Jay-Z’s “The City is Mine” from his album In My Lifetime: Vol. 1 when I first laid eyes on the cover art of Vincent P. Sanchez’s debut urban fiction novel, Angel’s Sin (Outskirts Press). I was blessed with the opportunity to meet with the up and coming author and interview him on December 2nd at the famous 40/40 Club in New York City. (Side note: The food and the drinks at the 40/40 Club are both banging) It was official. I was greeted when I arrived by a nice young lady who checked my name off of the guest list and directed to the room where the book signing for Angel’s Sin was taking place. The place was popping with every man and woman dressed, awaiting the man of the night, Vincent P. Sanchez. He arrived dressed like a don in a black suit with pinstripes and square-toed shoes. He looked fresh.

A native of Jamaica, Queens, Vincent P. Sanchez began crafting the first five chapters of Angel’s Sin a few years before completing it to be published in 2010. He revealed to me that his biggest struggle of the whole project was the marketing process for his novel. A fan of Steven King, Dean Koontz, and James Patterson, Sanchez’s personal experiences coming up during the catastrophic crack epidemic are what fuel him to create Angel’s Sin. Sanchez learned many hard lessons on love, loyalty, and life. It was not until he spent time in prison, that he discovered his passion for writing.

The urban fiction novel, Angel’s Sin is a story about Victor Johnson, who goes by the name, Angel, witnessing the murder of a neighborhood drug dealer. Sincere, Angel’s brother, also witnesses the murder at the hands of King, a local drug kingpin. They escape their own deaths once they are discovered by King and his right-hand man, Breeze. King and Breeze are two of the most dangerous men in South Jamaica, Queens. Instead of automatically killing both boys, King approaches them with a proposition: To either become a street soldier for King or be murdered. Once Angel and Sincere choose to live a life of crime, their lives are never the same. According to Sanchez, he sets himself apart from the literary competition by stepping from the norm, providing a different angle of portrayal.

Angel’s Sin is a story of how one decision can create a butterfly effect that will leave a long-lasting impression upon an individual’s soul. It is a story of survival, loyalty, betrayal, and death. It is an inspirational coming-of-age story that is definitely a page-turner. There are moments that may make you shed a tear, burst out laughing, or clutch your pearls in shock and amazement.

I appreciate the play on words that I was able to pull from Angel’s Sin. Angel commits sin after sin, after sin. These sins include the ones committed against others as well as the ones committed against him. Angel is far from a holy man. The term sin also refers to Sincere, Angel’s brother. The two young men have an indelible bond between each other. In the novel they both share this motto for love: “The love you show me is the love I show you. Fifty-fifty love ‘til the sun burns out.” There is nothing like brotherly love. Sin is also the Spanish term meaning without, which signifies the emptiness within Angel. Even though he gains money, power, and respect in the streets, he remains unfulfilled. Zane, Angel’s love interest, is almost like an angel in disguise who gives his life new meaning. She shows him unconditional love and brings out the best in her man. She opens her man’s eyes to a whole different world outside of street hustling. This angel gives birth to a Sin. I applaud Sanchez for his skills.

Vincent P. Sanchez plans on transforming the novel into a movie. Bringing the characters of Angel’s Sin onto the big screen will be a great move for the author. I cannot think of any other urban fiction novel that has been made into a movie. (You can correct me if I am wrong) Sanchez has two other books that are still in the making, Cheaters and The Last Witness. From writer to another, I wish him much success.

You can purchase your copy of Angel’s Sin at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Outskirtspress.com/Angelssin.

Stop Complaining

Do you ever find yourself complaining about the same thing over and over again? I do. Honestly, I am disappointed that I complain about this for 365 days a year. I have read that if this is the only thing to complain about, then there’s nothing really to complain about. In my bedroom I have a note written on a post-it above my desk to stop complaining about this. I hate to talk about this, but often it is virtually inevitable. If you know what it is like to have a blood-thirsty bug buzz by your ear, then you have an idea of how it makes me feel when I complain about money.

When most people see me walk down the streets, step into my job, drive my car, or show up at any function, they see what an ex-friend of mine used to call me: “Money Girl.” I am told that I look rich. I have champagne taste on a ripple budget (that’s why I love Forever 21). I tell people all of the time that I am not rich, but blessed. Lately, I have been taking the time out to tell God that I am thankful for my blessings, especially those things that I know I didn’t deserve, but were given to me anyhow. I give thanks not only to express my gratitude to God, but to teach myself to stop complaining about money. Growth has allowed me to give thanks, but I still find myself complaining about money.

When my paycheck is directly deposited into my checking account and I go down the list of the creditors I have to pay back, the groceries to purchase, the gasoline to pump for the week, the events that I have been invited to, and see that I am giving all of my money away to everyone but myself, I get pissed. I know that I am always going to have a bill, but it’s the other things like, for example, when I make plans to do something and my plans get interrupted by something unexpected that I’m always unprepared for financially. I have savings accounts that are empty and this upsets me. I am horrible when it comes to managing my money. When I make attempts to improve the way I handle my money and my reality doesn’t match up with my expectation, I become disappointed and I complain.

I have made a lot of mistakes with money—from taking out unnecessary loans and acquiring too many credit cards to impulse shopping and being a dupe of instant gratification. I feel absolutely ashamed of myself. I know that I have improved the way that I spend my money, yet I feel that I am not improving fast enough. I believe that I could be doing more to be more effective in correcting all of my wrongs. When I try to cut back on things like going out and I get accused of being cheap, it hurts me. Sometimes I end up spending my money to avoid hearing other people’s comments and I beat myself up about it later. I also cross my fingers, hoping that I don’t overdraft and being slammed with the $34 fee per overdraft. Like that annoying blood-thirsty bug buzzing by, I just want it to stop and go away—the shame, the disappointment, and the complaining.

Now that I am finally getting this off my chest, I feel as though I am not only complaining about money, but I am complaining about being an adult and having a life. I love my life and I love being an adult. I am gifted and healthy. I am never without food. I’m single, yet I am never lonely. There are those days where I’m just getting by and feeling majorly terrible because my checking account needs CPR. I know that God has been good to me and always will, which is why I know that I must make it a priority to stop complaining about money. I once heard Joel Osteen say to complain is to remain. I don’t want to remain, I want to increase. As long as I continue to press forward and be more forgiving to myself, eventually, my money will be straight and being a money girl will no longer be just an illusion.

Too Broke to be in a Relationship

Have you ever felt that you were too broke to be in relationship? Do you feel that way now? Is it necessary to have your finances in order before you look for that special someone? I hear women say all of the time that they can't get with a man who is broke. A good number of them are straight up lying. Musiq Soulchild has a song title "Money Right" in which he sings, "As soon as I get my money right, I'll take good care of you." Are there women out there, who, if they heard that line from a man, would they wait for him? I've never heard a man say that he didn't get with a woman because she was strapped for cash.

I am working, putting myself through college, and repairing my credit all at the same time. Many times I have said that I am too broke to be in a relationship. Not only do relationships require time, but they also require money. I barely have either. A man has never boldy told me that he couldn't be with me because I'm economically challenged; however, I think that my finances were part of the reason that one guy discontinued seeing me. He had made a brief appearance in my life. I had the strongest feeling that he was here for all the wrong reasons. Once I told him what my salary is, he soon vanished. Hmmm...nah, he was just the equivalent of those lint balls you find in the pocket of your jeans. Maybe he had been looking for a sponsor.

Numerous times I have jokingly said that I need a sugar daddy. How many of you have said you needed a sponsor? It would be awesome to have somebody throw some cash my way and take some of the stress off me, but I know that shit ain't realistic. A sponsor is not the answer. A sponsor is another pain in the ass who will end up on the Do Not Pick Up list on my Iphone. Besides, my heart won't let me beat someone in the head just to get my Visa bill paid. I always wondered what men and women have said to their sponsor to get him or her to drop their ducats. What extremes have they gone to in order to get others to pay for their shit?

Looking at the bigger picture, I know that my financial status will change for the better. The job that I have pays its employees based on their education level. My knowledge is increasing and I am gradually progressing at my job. I am closer to the level where I know that I will be. It's clearly very easy for me to be sidetracked from the positive to dwell on the negative, but I am so glad that I have the ability to shift back into the right gear. 2 Corinthians 4:18 reads: "So we fix our eyes not what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary but what is unseen is eternal." Yeah, I'm having some financial technical difficulties right now, but it will not be forever. Yeah, money isn't everything, but it means a lot when you have it and able to fund your lifestyle. So until I get my money straight, single is what I will be.