You Deserve To Take Up Space.

At Some Point I Was A Happyafricanfeminist Who Does Not Hate Men. And Who Likes Lip Gloss And Who Wears High Heels For Herself But Not For Men.

She Wanted To Ask Him Why They Were All Strangers Who Shared The Same Last Name.

Because Of Writers Like Chinua Achebe And Camara Laye … I Realized That People Like Me, Girls With Skin The Color Of Chocolate, Whose Kinky Hair Could Not Form Ponytails, Could Also Exist In Literature.

He Was Making Her Feel Small And Absurdly Petulant And, Worse Yet, She Suspected He Was Right. She Always Suspected He Was Right. For A Brief Irrational Moment, She Wished She Could Walk Away From Him. Then She Wished, More Rationally, That She Could Love Him Without Needing Him. Need Gave Him Power Without His Trying; Need Was The Choicelessness She Often Felt Around Him.

I Am A Bit Of A Fundamentalist When It Comes To Black Women's Hair. Hair Is Hair - Yet Also About Larger Questions: Self-acceptance, Insecurity And What The World Tells You Is Beautiful. For Many Black Women, The Idea Of Wearing Their Hair Naturally Is Unbearable.