I went from a short, almost pixie-style haircut to just over shoulder-length locs in 3 years! Ájá is healthy, thick, and has a personality all on her own. She’s still doing her own thing, and I’m so happy with my hair! Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
A Photo Montage of Some of My Favorite Moments Rocking Ájá. Video Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
natural hair journey three-year anniversary Ájá’s still thriving
Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book& Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback(only) yet?
I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing, as I discussrecent events related to my previous place of employment, including racism and discrimination, the growth I experienced after resigning from that company, and the foibles and overall experiences of life. I welcome your visit.
When I first started blogging on WordPress, I moved away from Blogger and created my first blog here EONS ago. I cannot remember the name of it, nor do I recall the domain, either. About three years later, I hosted two more blogs: one for my personal writing and another for writing directly related to Jernee Timid. Again, I do not recall the names of those blogs or their domain names. What I do know is this… I have not had any major issues with WordPress. It has always felt like a family affair, and I can pretty much keep the trolls and nonsense at bay on this platform, and for that, I will forever be grateful.
We have our own little private/public spaces on the internet, and the community never ceases to amaze me. I’m pretty sure I’ll be on WordPress until the rickety wheels of this platform fall off. Nineteen years is a long time to express oneself on the same platform, and I intend to do it for many more years to come.
Thank you to all of you who have connected with me, read my work regularly, and appreciate what I bring to this community. I am so enamored by all of you and your patience, time, and dedication to art in literary or visual form. We make this community what it is.
AI-Generated Image: A Black woman with locs wearing glasses and a knitted hat, standing in front of a mirror.
the mirror doesn’t lie
the mirror shows it all; you cannot hide from yourself, even if you want to.
I joke with myself occasionally, “wherever you go, there you are,” so I’m stuck with me, and the older I get, I want to be with ME more.
my heart needs the love I’m giving it. my mind deserves the peace I’m giving it.
it is joy to surround oneself with beautiful gifts that enhance our every waking moment.
I’m walking alongside a human being who hid behind shadows and the covers of hoodies for decades, and I finally realize…
she is undeniably unique and incomparable, and I adore her.
I want more of her.
Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book& Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback(only) yet?
I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutrecent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.
One year passed by so quickly. On October 30, 2024, I launched Séduire, and I allowed my first collection of fiction to flourish as ane-book while I tweaked thepaperbackversion and released it a few days later. Both lived on Lulu for what seemed like forever. The paperback version just cleared the global distribution queue, and is finally…. F I N A L L Y, on Amazon to purchase. I have no idea what took so long, and at whose mercy I had been, but the High Priests of one of the most highly trafficked online purchasing stores considered my work of fiction ready to grace its digital domain.
A small nugget about Séduire:
Séduire is a collection of serial fiction tales and flash fiction standalone stories written over a period of three years. Dive into the world of a little girl whose family uproots and moves to “The Deep South” because of a new opportunity presented to her father. Transport yourself to the life of a little girl who becomes a mother and a sister to her child at the hands of her sadistic and evil father. Walk with a grieving sister and her mother as they remember a woman who was brutally murdered by her partner. Her young boys live out her legacy as they mourn her.
Experience parenthood as you enter the world of soon-to-be young parents and their ups and downs in life change them significantly while they journey along their new path. Make a brief cameo into the hearts of a dedicated aunt and a rebellious teenage niece whose father has lost his grip on his child.
There are so many more characters with which to connect. As you thumb through each page, the author wants you to feel something; with these stories, you will.
What a few readers have said about Séduire:
Of course, like all great storytellers, Tremaine lifts the veil on the community, the neighborhoods, and the villages we call home. Her characters are the people we encounter daily and may even know personally. And within the pages of Séduire, I found two characters who immediately set my world ablaze.
When I met Phara for the first time, which was the morning after I got the book, her story impacted the next few days of my world. Without going into details, there is enough in the opening lines of her story to fill the reader with rage, hate, and pain. Phara’s is a story that hobbles the heart. Within the first few paragraphs, Tremaine Loadholt, in her masterful style of weaving a narrative, brings home the sad, horrendous reality of what happens behind closed doors in many homes. It is a five-star read, cushioned just at the end of the first section of the book. —Nigel Byng
Stories such as “We Don’t Talk About Daniela,” “Phara,” “Reflections of a Lost Love that Will Never Be Found,” and “Mr. Bradford and His Ox Collection” are deeply affecting, leaving a lasting impact on the reader. The serial story “Clover,” narrated by a child, captures a family’s aspirations as they climb the social ladder, despite racial prejudice they have to contend with. Yet, the collection balances darkness with warmth, including tales of lovers’ reconciliation, a rebellious teen transformed under the guidance of a caring aunt, first-time parents, and more, inviting readers to witness characters navigating life’s trials. —Khaya Ronkainen
In Séduire, Tre Loadholt gives us the full range of her storytelling magic. Beyond the humorous dialogue, the raw earthiness of relationships, and the intense despair of grief and loss … eternal hope is the emotion that always shines through her stories.This iconic collection of short fiction belongs on your must-read list.–Kay Bolden, Writer & Editor
Whether I’m reading her poetry, serial fiction, or autobiographical prose; whether the characters are rooted in reality or possessing of supernatural abilities beyond my own imagination, I am always blown away by Tre’s ability to portray the way we all relate to each other in such a completely relatable way. Her characters breathe, think, and feel just like I do. Just like you do. I do not need to have experienced exactly what the character is experiencing; Tre understands that if readers can feel what the character feels and connect that way, they can step into the page and fall into the story. She really gets us. All of us. And it’s an amazing feeling, being understood.–Elizabeth Bentley, Writer & Health Program Analyst
The holidays are just around the corner. Looking for stocking stuffers for the family reader? Séduire is it! Have you fallen short of what to buy the person who has everything? Throw Séduire their way. Do you need a new-to-you book that titillates, motivates, and inspires? Allow Séduire to be that new book for you.
To this date, Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction has sold 54 copies. My heart is full from the weight of this number. I don’t have to sell another copy, and I will be the happiest writer on this great earth. My maternal grandmother died from lung cancer in October of 2003, at the age of 54. There is significance in this number. It is a number of reflection, and a number of peace and prosperity for me. I believe my grandmother is proud. I hope she is.
Please join me in celebrating Séduire‘s first anniversary!
I still struggle now that you’re gone, but I am getting better.
Chrissy and I, Circa 1985-1986. I do not know who took this photo of us. But it’s my favorite.
My cousin was Black Joy personified. Her contagious smile entered a room before her feet could land softly on the floor. She was so many things to so many people; mother, sister, aunt, cousin, healer, and friend. To me, she had been a rock; steady on her feet and a guiding light for my path.
She did not know a stranger.
She was sixteen years older than me. I looked up to her. Every time she and her siblings visited our family down south from up north, I couldn’t contain my excitement. I knew we would have a time with my big cousin, and I dreamt about her arrival days before I saw her.
If my cousin was visiting, that meant I would get all the hugs and kisses I wanted from her. That meant I could sit and listen to the lull of her voice rise up and down, and her accent coat the walls of any room she graced.
If you have never had the chance to know genuine love from a person, I apologize to you in advance. I knew how it could develop and how it could lift you up when you were at your lowest. This form of love from my cousin differed from what I had from my parents or grandparents. It was a high-feeling love. A love without actual description; for there are no words for it. Not any that come to my mind, at least.
My cousin was magic, and I yearned to Houdini my way through my pubescent years as magically as she had seemed to do. I clung to her safe space as tightly as I could from as young as the age of five, which is my earliest memory of her.
I have a picture I take out occasionally on which to reminisce. I give it a once-over, shed a few tears, and then I smile. As you can see, it is of her standing behind me and raising my arms out far and wide. We’re both smiling as hard as our jaws would allow.
The event had been my great-grandmother, her grandmother’s birthday party. I do not remember what we ate, what music played, or what time the party ended. But I remember my cousin’s smile. I remember the imminent peace that radiated throughout the room with her there. I remember her laughter and, of course, the hugs.
I remember the fun I had with her and not wanting the night to end.
I have a few photographs that I love of the two of us together, but the photo shown above is by far my favorite. It has been a savior for me when the depths of some dark days hover over me without an invitation.
It’s my go-to when I feel like I want to remember every detail of her face; every smile-line, crow’s foot, and beauty mark. It’s my inThe Grieving Room get-by healing memory.
I always come back to it.
No one tells you how to grieve.
Not for an older cousin who mothered you in ways you searched for mothering. No one tells you the pain that lasts; how it creeps in and creeps out when you least expect it.
There is no how-to manual on how to stop your heart from breaking when a patient sounds like her on a scheduling call or a friend says something she used to say. You cannot stop yourself from crying out of the blue because the wind hits a certain way and suddenly emotions pummel you without warning.
There is no cure-all for deaths that come unexpectedly and during your happiest moments.
Just when I thought, I’m proud of myself. I’m doing so well moving through these phases of life, God’s plan swooped in and stirred up something.
I thought, Years of therapy—down the drain, but my cousin’s death allowed me to open up more during my therapy sessions. It allowed me to be vulnerable; to cry without warning and to witness my former therapist at her most engaging and encouraging. “I know it has to be hard for you, Tre. Crying is good. It’s a release. There’s no shame in crying.”
And there wasn’t. And there isn’t. There are days I wake up with sunshine flowing through my bones; ready to take on anything thrown in my direction. Those are the days I think to myself, I wonder if she sees me getting by—mastering every obstacle and jumping over every hurdle.
And then, there are days I wake up so out of sync with the world and my surroundings and I want to lie back down and let sleep consume me. Those are the days, I think to myself, What would Chrissy do? How would she conquer this day?
Chrissy’s Selfie and the Waves. Photo Credit: Christina M. Georges
The finality of her life made me more in-tune with everything around me and my most inner-tormented self.
How warped must my brain have been to stay stunted and recycle the same events yet repress them as well? Losing my cousin in her physical form pushed me to challenge what I feel, how I feel, and to sit with those feelings and move through them until I no longer freeze in place from pain.
I will not say I am at my best now since her passing on February 18, 2022. I can’t say I am at my worst because I have been there, and it had not been a place to which I wanted to lay claim. I am, however, somewhere in between where healing appears to be more like second-nature than something I cannot attain.
Born in October, years before anyone thought about creating me, she was a star before anyone said she was. Her light hovered over us in life.
And it still does in death.
If I can be honest, I still talk to her. I still ask for her advice, and at the oddest times of day—when the light hits my balcony door just right, or an epiphany greets me without warning, I hear her. She still answers me.
I have had so much time to write poems, essays, and create characters to shine a light on my cousin and her life. But the following is how I’d written about her just a couple months after she died:
On February 18, 2022, I muttered my last ‘I love you’ to my closest cousin — one of the greatest loves of my life. She had been significantly older than me, so she mothered me — nurtured me — allowed me to be guided by her.
She could rain down love without being coaxed or manipulated. It simply fell out of her and onto/into you without caution. If you loved her or had been loved by her, you knew it. You felt it. There was no reason to question this love. It was genuine and given with every ounce of her being.
I no longer view my cousin’s death as the end of her life.
It is more of a continuance of her spirit’s presence in ours. I have her spiritual form comforting me every step of the way.
Surviving her death is an incredibly talented son, a beautiful globetrotting daughter, an intellectually sound husband, and countless others.
She has connected us and in us is that love she deposited the moment we met. Even though I miss her deeply . . . even though I can’t get through some days without completely breaking down . . . I am getting better.
I am not afraid to walk the path of this life without her.
Not anymore.
The above essay was written for a prominent online magazine this past January and was recently declined. I decided to share it here. Peace and blessings.
Yesterday, I spent about 6 hours and 30 minutes at my cousin’s place getting my hair washed, and then, retwisted. The last time I had it done was Saturday, August 18, 2023, so it was well overdue. But allowing that much time before a retwist/retie afforded me a ton of new growth, so my locs also have a good length to them and bounce & body.
I am still so thrilled with this journey! My cousin will do my hair for me one more time (which will probably be in mid to late January of 2024), and I will transition to her loctician who will take over regarding the care of my hair. December 10, 2023, will be my one-year anniversary of having locs and I am VERY excited about that upcoming date!
I am a bit anxious about the transition from my cousin to her loctician, but my cousin gave me her word, “I will do your hair for one year and then hand you off to my loctician.” And, she has kept it. I’ll get one more sitting with her and then move forward. I do not know her loctician–we have never met. But if my cousin trusts her enough with her hair (and it’s gorgeous), I will lend her my mane to take care of as well. I am sure Aja will be in good hands.
And now, for a few pictures:
Aja, just after I took her out of the protective style she was in to prepare to get her washed. I love my locs! Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Nothing feels as good as a clean head of hair. LOL! Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Aja has a little hangtime now. My hair has gotten longer and thicker over these last 11 months and I am so happy with this journey! Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
A glimpse of the side-back and a view of how long my hair has gotten! Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
And finally, a full look at the back. Aja’s so fresh & so clean again. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Now that my hair is back to a place of freshness and is clean, I can focus on giving The Little Monster a haircut and a bath later today. Be on the lookout for photos of her tomorrow.
Many of you may ask, how I feel about my locs journey now that I am nearing its one-year anniversary, and to that, I will say: I do not think I can pinpoint a time in which I’ve been happier with and about my hair, and I am so excited with every new turn that comes along with it. I stand back and look at myself in actual wonder . . . this is my hair and it’s doing something miraculously inexplicable.
A Cornered Gurl 
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