The Soapbox Diaries 1st Edition, Volume II..My Beautiful Struggle

Since it'll be a long time before I can afford a therapist, I started a blog. LOL, that's not the only reason...I also love to write and have gotten away from it professionally, only to realize something is missing...Blogging helps. But there are a few issues in my life I rarely share because of the hurt behind it--we all know that feeling. So I've discovered transparency (while keeping a few secrets to myself) is therapeutic as well, so today is my first deep deep down post. I hope you can appreciate my BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLE.

I was 15 before I had my first real boyfriend. Nowadays, I’d say 15 is an age most parents will allow their daughters to start dabbling with dating, but at the time I felt I was light-years behind my peers. After all by that time, many of my girlfriends had had at least 2 or 3 steady boyfriends, several guys I knew were sexually active, and there were plenty of foul, but sadly true rumors going around to make up for everyone else in between.

As for me, I was never the “pretty friend”—I was the shy, laid-back, dark-skinned, athletic chic with the tomboy body to match—so even after I grew out of my tomboy phase during my sophomore year of high school, it seemed my ‘role’ had been cast. I just began to accept it. I’m forever grateful that many of my pretty friends are more than just a cute face. Several are still close to me today and are both beautiful inside and out, but unluckily for me, I began to harbor some crazy, silly opinions of myself during my teenage years. What I felt I lacked in physical beauty, I tried to make up for with my talents in sports and music and wearing nice clothes, but the real reason behind my shortcomings is another blog for another day. Needless to say I had a hard time being comfortable in my own skin.

And then there was Dante*. I admit there was never real chemistry between us or even a strong attraction—well actually that’s me speaking for myself in hindsight—but at the time all I knew was there was someone who actually liked me and thought I was the pretty friend. He was cute. Chocolate complexion, about 6”1’, lanky build, three years older than me. One thing that was attractive about Dante* was his eyes—the color of dark brown sugar, so clear and innocent—and the prettiest, long eyelashes I’d ever noticed on a guy.

Dante* and I met one summer during a week-long religious meeting I attended with my grandparents. I honestly don’t remember exactly how we met, but he was the friend of a friend of a friend. He was from Cleveland about an hour from me, which meant long distance calls, but we exchanged numbers anyway to keep in touch. The first night he called, we talked for hours about our likes and dislikes and after we decided we had enough in common to warrant liking one another, he asked me to be his girlfriend and I said yes. There were no frills or thrills about this ‘relationship,’ no real drama, miraculously lasted about six months. Long story short, after running up his parents’ phone bill to $200+ a few months in a row with no job to pay them back, after the time he embarrassed me by hitching a ride to da ‘Yo with $20 talkin about dinner and a movie (plus gas $$ to get back!), after pissing me off a few times by pressuring me into a couple cheap feels, after I found out he dropped out of high school and didn’t seem to have plans to go back—we broke up. He realized he really was in no position to be someone’s boyfriend, and I realized I wasn’t that desperate for a boyfriend. I’m a crybaby, so I cried a lil bit the day after we broke it off, and I was cool. More importantly I learned a lesson about how wanting a guy to find me attractive and like me for who I was, put me in a position to date a guy I felt no sparks for whatsoever.

Looking back, I can finally realize that I was never as bad looking as I thought. It was how I felt and perceived myself. For a very long time my self-esteem and level of self-confidence was only as high as how I saw myself through others’ eyes.
Cockiness is never a good look in my book (unintentional rhyme), but being confident in what you bring to the table is always attractive and sexy. It’s taken 23 years of living for me to realize this, now I’m working to implement it into my life.

I spent a lot of time hurting inside, because I lacked confidence and didn’t know how to get it. I refuse to pass this type of hurt on to my children, especially if I give birth to a daughter. It will be my most important mission to make sure she never experiences the disappointments I faced in robbing myself of personal joy. The joy that comes in embracing who you are and yes, what you look like. Ladies, I don’t care where you are in the dating game; please don’t ever settle for less.

And I continue my BEAUTIFUL STRUGGLE.

HARD WORK, SECOND EFFORT, DEDICATION, LOYALTY & LOVE...I am the epitome of them all.

"I'm an Artist...So I'm Sensitive About My Sh&t..."

I got the title of this post from Erykah Badu when I had the pleasure of seeing her in concert at Wingate Park in Brooklyn a few weeks back..a BOMB free show if there ever was one..but as she was preluding the next single off of her latest album 'New Amerykah Pt. 1 4th World War,' she showed a bit of vulnerability about the crowd feelin the new joint (as if she really has a reason). There was no need to worry tho, becuz it was hot!! I'm so glad there are three more parts, becuz Part 1 is a well-planned tease..ANYWAYZ So now as I decide to share my own work, I'm borrowing Erykah's quote and this will be the title of each such post. Check out a piece I just wrote called WANNABE vs. JIGGABOO...Peace and a Bottle 'a Hair Grease!

WANNABE vs. JIGGABOO

OK, so after a few years of contemplating going natural with my hairstyle, I have finally done the do! I think after I got tired of my comb getting stuck in my hair as I grew it out, I said to hell with it, cut it to the roots!! And now, I love it on so many levels, and wonder why it took me so long to finally whack it all off. Initially my fear was how I would look, or rather would I have the confidence to pull the look off, and I must say having my perm chopped off to a length comparable to my man’s when he hasn’t had a fresh cut in a couple weeks, has added a swag to my step…As cliché as it may sound, I feel free…I feel bold…I feel kinda hot…

I feel like I’ve taken a huge step in the direction of living my life by my own terms, irregardless of what others have to say about the life I choose—and for me—that is a certified victory. I know there are many theories in existence surrounding black women and their hair, it’s our crowning glory, there’s a deep-rooted history. All that kept running through my mind was the scene from School Daze between the Jiggaboos and Wannabes.

Would Curtis still find me attractive with short hair? Will my family and friends look at me sideways, I was hoping my mother wouldn’t say Tara don’t you dare… Am I now out of the running for a whole slew of careers? Does natural hair make me more ‘black’, or more pretty, or less pretty, or more socially aware? Is it really just hair? It’s funny how such a simple change can affect personalities and attitudes and opinions and career opportunities…All I know is I’m still me. I will always be Tara Charisse.

No more $$ on a wash and set, just wash it myself and I’m out the door, I’d rather put that $30 toward my student debt…I don’t have to fold my pillow to keep from smashing my curls, only to wake up with a crick in my neck…No more spritz, or black gel, or the sound of my hair sizzling like some bacon, or running when it rains so my hair won’t get wet…Once had bangs and my face broke out—tryin to look cute, and this is the thanks I get?

I didn’t cut my hair because I moved to New York and became a different person, or because I have some big point to prove to the world. If anything I cut my hair because deep inside I was always scared to go against the grain of everything everyone else said I should be or look, and I can’t be that girl. This is about building self-assurance and esteem. So if going back to nappy roots isn’t it…if being naturally me isn’t it, I guess I don’t know what it means. It’s time to start from scratch and begin letting the complete me come out, so I’ll start by pulling my self-esteem off the shelf…Now I just gotta hold my head higher and look folks dead in the eye…Wow maybe I am changing a little…so allow me to reintroduce myself…

HARD WORK, SECOND EFFORT, DEDICATION, LOYALTY & LOVE (of one's self)...EMBRACE WHO U ARE!