here you are; a warm welcome, renewed spirit, confident and secure — a peace I didn’t know I needed. my heart wells up with joy at the thought of your growth — how amazing you are, and the similarities sitting in your heart — so much like your mother but clearly your own self.
I stand in awe of you. I remember when you were born, how happy your parents were, and I lived for the updated photos, stories, and time spent with my little cousin who had a smile that could shame the sun.
so far away, always so far away — yet near enough to dwell in my mind — take up space I had no problem lending. you are a glorious, strong force in a world of terror and pain.
you pick up everything whenever you’re ready, relocate to places with half-hearted moons and split-tongue warriors with gray eyes.
we all live vicariously through you — we may not say it but we think it. free spirit — unafraid to make moves when moves need to be made, and on this, your day of birth, I want you to know that I love you to the full-bodied moon and back again.
there will be pregnant pauses for the rest of my day as I share time with my thoughts to appreciate your existence. happy birthday, Victoria. God gift you years upon years upon years more.
On Tuesday, February 07, 2023, my little cousin (Chrissy’s daughter) celebrated another year on this Earth, and I wrote this for her. Thank you for reading, and for listening, too.Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.
Phase II: The interlocking of new growth and clean hair
The interlocking of new-growth and clean hair. Retwisting my microlocs one section at a time. Photo Collage Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
I endured seven straight weeks of not washing, scratching, and messing with my hair. Seven weeks. Please let that settle in your spirit for a moment. The entire process — the waiting — the watching new growth sprinkle in and make a home on my scalp; was a calming yet joyous occurrence.
I had the pleasure of witnessing my hair grow in from the scalp and surround the microlocs already in place. I could feel the extra hair sprout up every week and I beamed (and damn near beat my chest) with pride.
“My hair is doing what it should. I am happy.” At least twenty times, I have said that very phrase. I have stood in front of my bathroom mirror completely in awe at what Ajá (Yes, I named my hair, remember?) has graced me with, and she’s still doing amazing things.
I cannot wait to see what the next seven to eight weeks will have in store for the both of us.
Washing my hair after seven weeks
I knew there would be dandruff, of course, there would be! Seven weeks of not washing one’s hair can create a dirty, cakey, matted dandruff build-up that would need to be washed, scraped away, and plucked out (*cringe*) accordingly.
I already had a history of dry scalp and a dandruff issue if my hair had not been cared for appropriately, so this was no surprise to me. To have my hair washed and my scalp massaged and I did not have to do anything but stand in place and experience this form of love and care was a blessing to my entire soul.
My haircare products (for now): Lion Locs Conditioner, Jamaican Mango & Lime Tingling Shampoo, Lion Locs Rosewater Hair Spary, and Wild Growth Hair Oil. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
My cousin opted to shampoo my hair with my choice of shampoo (photographed above) only, stating that conditioning it would make it shiny and my already smooth/processed (permed) ends more of a problem. Every minute of her hands touching my head shifted me in so many ways.
The simple washing of one’s hair after not having it done in a couple of months can be a game-changer. I felt my heart lift and nearly leave my body. I felt a sense of peace overcome me. My legs buckled from the perfect touches to my scalp from my cousin’s fingers. It moved me to happiness and nirvana.
Before wash day, I used the Wild Growth Hair Oil (also photographed above) every week after the third week of having my locs installed.
When my locs are finally loc’d, I will begin using the conditioner and rosewater hair spray. I will keep these haircare products in rotation and add on a couple more as time passes.
Interlocking new growth and clean hair with existing locs
Once my hair had been cleaned thoroughly and towel-dried, my cousin began interlocking new growth to my existing locs. This process is painful. I used to get my hair braided regularly when I was younger, and that pain is nothing compared to this one.
I squealed — protested with my outstretched arms — flailed my hands in the air; smacked my cousin’s arms, etc. My cousin is so sweet and gentle, each time she’d rebut with this phrase, “Okay, baby. Okay. I almost got it. I almost got it. There. It’s done.” Or, “I know. I know. I’ve got it. It’s coming. I’m sorry.”
The best way for me to describe this process is to get you to visualize it with me as I write it out. Imagine your hair — from the root — being pulled and wrapped into (or around) your hair that has already grown from the root; then pulled again and pulled again and finally pulled down into the place of the existing hair.
Painful, right? I know. Here is a video to further emphasize what I endured:
My cousin used an interlocking tool (similar to the one shown in the video) and her hands for this process. She did this in sections. Some areas did not hurt nearly as much as others.
And as the content creator stated above, she did not choose to interlock too tightly because she has a tender scalp. I do not — I’ve never been tender-headed. So, my cousin’s interlocking method was tight.
And to be honest, the entire process was a relaxing but invigorating one.
I felt both hyped and in total serenity at the same time. This next step is complete, and I can find peace in adding another seven or eight weeks to this phase before the next wash and interlock.
Locs and smile. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
It is an overwhelmingly exciting journey and I am well-equipped with the tools to further endure what lies ahead. So far, Ajá has proven she can weather any storm that comes her way, and I am here for every battered window and every toppled trash bin.
We will not be moved or pushed aside, regardless of the intensity headed our way.
As you can see from the photo above, my hair has grown significantly from the previous starter locs article I shared. And I believe as each week passes, I will continue to see a decent increase in new growth which will make interlocking my hair once again in mid-to-late March a daunting task.
The total time for this session, including having my hair washed five times, was six hours and a little under thirty minutes.
And if you ask me if I will go through it all again, I’d happily say, “I sure will.”
Nothing beats the contentment I have welling up in my bones over the choice I made to go natural and loc my hair.
It’s here to stay for the foreseeable future — no turning back now.
If you know what it feels like to be walking on what you think is your last leg — limping on worn-out shoes, tortured feet, and trying to carry the weight of your body with the world resting on your shoulders and a special someone is right there for support . . . then, you are blessed. You have been given a gift God handpicked for you, and you should cherish it.
I have someone in my life who has been a force — strength when I have waded through rough waters with little breath to give to anyone else, and she still hangs in here with me.
She has accomplished so much. I am motivated by her ambition. Her managerial skills impress me. Her presence when she enters a room demands the attention of everyone around her, and it is a sight to witness.
I feel nothing but happiness when she is around. We can laugh for hours at the silliest thing or the corniest movie. The older we get, these things do not change.
When you can find peace in the presence of someone else that also lends peace to you to share with someone else, that is the beauty of life that knows no bounds.
Just like any two best friends, we have had our trials. Tribulations came and attempted to conquer. However, we stood firm on their rocky paths. The shakier they seemed to get, the mightier we became. Nothing could shift our spirits and move us away from who we were meant to be.
When you have seen someone at their worst and what you gain from being a witness is strength and revelation, then you hold on to that person. You hold on to their love. You tie yourself to the very thought of their existence and you thank God for thinking about you in your season of need.
A lot of us will never know the beauty of this love — this kind of friendship. Many of us will not allow ourselves the vulnerability we will need to strip down and be our naked true selves to someone else in order to gain this type of understanding — this bond.
I am happy to know I have moved through embracing the hard parts of me and willing them to become soft. Walking through this time of my life opened up doors for me and my best friend. It strengthened our communication skills and made us tap into growth factors, too.
21 years later and we are stronger than we have ever been. Together as one, we have skipped down dusty roads meant to break our bones. And we are continuing on a journey that seems to be a settled place of welcome with an overwhelming dose of calm.
I do not want to know a world without her in it — without her standing by my side and lifting me up when the gloominess of life is pulling chunks out of my heart.
Whenever we see each other, we pull one another into a hug that says, “Hey, girl. Just stay right here for this moment in this embrace for a while longer. Don’t let go — not yet.” And we rock and we sway and we step back and look at each other in awe.
We’re still here — still making each other’s days — still sharing laughs and joy; still being who we are unashamed and with no excuses.
Hello, beautiful people! Welcome to the second challenge since A Cornered Gurl’s relaunch. What do I have brewing in my mind for you now? Something I truly hope you can get into. We will tackle the task of animating your life or telling me about your life as it is linked to or related to your favorite animated movie, cartoon, claymation, etc. You get the drift.
And how will we do this? We will do so using the 50-word story (or a minisaga).
50-word story (minisaga)
A minisaga, mini saga or mini-saga is a short story based on a long story. It should contain exactly 50 words, plus a title of up to 15 characters. However, the title requirement is not always enforced and sometimes eliminated altogether. Minisagas are alternately known as microstories, ultra-shorts stories, or fifty-word stories.
The challenge: Please tell me about your life, but do so by comparing it or linking it to your favorite animated movie, cartoon, claymation, etc. Are The Flintstones your favorite go-to cartoon? How so? How is it directly related to your life? Dexter’s Laboratory is closely related to who you are and how your life operates — tell us how. The Incredibles directly define you and your family in some sort of way . . . really? Give us the details, but guess what — do so using exactly 50 words.
An example:
I was blessed with a quick wit, nearsightedness, and too much useless information packed into my head. I had an oddball gang of friends who didn’t mind carrying on with me. Sarcasm was my bosom buddy and I wasn’t popular, but I was well-known. Daria should have been my name.
Let’s get our thinking caps on, beautiful people!
•Request to be added as a writer by emailing me at acorneredgurl[AT]gmail[DOT]com with “Please Add Me” as the subject line and please include the link to your Medium profile. Don’t want to be a writer in A Cornered Gurl? Simply comment with your response in this challenge post, or create your own post to your profile or in another publication, however, please use the tags, “Challenge” and “Pandemic.”
The challenge will run from Sunday, January 22, 2023, until 6:00 PM, Sunday, January 29, 2023 (with publishing days as Friday, Sunday, and Monday based on ACG’s publishing schedule). Please have “Animate your life 50-word story” as the subtitle for your submission. CHALLENGE SUBMISSION BEGINS NOW!
Let’s explore what we can do with a fun topic that will allow us to reminisce, and hopefully have a great time while we get creative, too.
He lay in the middle of the road, shivering from the intense cold. Darius slows the car down to a stroll. Serena opens the door — tightens the feel of her winter coat around her, and rushes to scoop up the precious thing into her arms.
It is a cold, late autumn night. She and Darius had just left a charity event thrown by her company — a non-profit organization built on the premise of revitalizing their city and finding homes for stray dogs and cats. What were the chances they would land upon a chocolate Cocker Spaniel/Labrador mix in the middle of the road on their drive back home?
She looks into its eyes and rolls it over onto its back, staring past its belly to check its gender — male. She whispers to the drenched ball of fur, “Fate. I think we’ll call you, ‘Fate.’”
She runs toward their car, pulls the door open, and quickly slides onto the heated seat. Darius is thumping his ashy thumbs on the steering wheel. He stares at her intently and says, “Who could leave such a sweet baby to fend for itself out here in all this?!” His hands flail dramatically in front of him.
“I named him ‘Fate.’ I think he will be a great addition to our family, Darius. Sebastian and Nora will fall in love with him. They truly will!”
Darius and Serena had a two-year-old Goldendoodle and a four-year-old Maine Coon cat at home. Both were rescues. Sebastian, the Goldendoodle, had been found in a ditch three miles away from their home on a sunny July morning. Nora, the Maine Coon, had been seen running feverishly out of a burning shed one mile away from their church.
Their home had been a quiet, welcoming spot for both animals. And now, it will be one for Fate, too.
As they pull into the driveway, Serena towel-dries Fate with one of the heavy towels the couple keeps in their car as part of their “emergency kit.” The little thing moves gingerly in her care as if to signal he understands what is going on. She scoops him up and places a gentle kiss on his snout.
Inside their home, Sebastian sits with Nora in their living room — his fluffy bottom faces the fireplace. Nora nestles alongside his chest — sleeping to the sound of his heartbeat.
Serena tiptoes to their kitchen — pulls out a favorite brand of puppy dog food, and sprinkles one scoop into Fate’s bowl. Next to this hearty meal, she fills another bowl with fresh water. She places Fate on the floor and watches his reaction.
The puppy lunges toward the bowl housing the food — hungry for a meal he hadn’t had in days. He swallows hurriedly, breathing in small pants between each bite. He shuffles his furry little body over to the water and sips until his belly pokes out.
Serena’s eyes fill with tears. One slips away and slides down her cold face. Darius stands at the kitchen entrance and gazes upon his wife and their new baby as they bond.
Who’s feeding whom? Who saved who?
As time passes, Fate grows along with Sebastian and Nora. The three of them fill Darius and Serena’s hearts with so much love. The couple watches their three fur babies interact with each other daily. The connection can only be described as “kismet,” — they were meant to be.
And with Fate’s name literally tying the family closer, Serena knows it is time to announce their newest addition. She turns to Darius as he watches the threesome plop around playfully in their backyard, leans closer to him, and nudges his chin. A glimmer in her eyes appears when she says, “Babe, I’m pregnant.”
The news floors Darius. It overcomes him with joy. They had tried for years to conceive and now … they could breathe easier. As the two of them zoom in on their small family, they envision it becoming bigger.
The work they do — the families they connect with when finding the best homes for stray dogs and cats invigorates them.
How will they continue their cause with a baby in tow?
They can and they will.
Someone has to fight the brutal fight of maintaining beauty and comfort in their thriving neighborhood. Someone has to feed the babies of the world — both humans and animals. Someone has to clear the streets of garbage, lost sneakers, and cigarette butts.
Fate brought more to Serena and Darius than just peace — he brought love — deep, everlasting love.
And now, on a chilly night in late November, not only have their hearts bloomed with indescribable joy, they are fed in full.
This is a slightly edited version of a piece written for Hinged.press’ (formerly, The Weekly Knob) annual participation in “Thankmas”. Thank you for reading.
I am taken aback by her — by who she is, what she does, and how she moves about in this world.
she is bold — passionate about life and her surroundings, and I stand on faltering feet, wondering when I’ll be able to l o o s e this confession curdling my spirit.
I am eating my words for dinner, submerging my heart into overflowing waters, stunted by fears that tangle my tongue.
women need to come with instruction manuals, and an extra five dollars behind their ears — I got tolls to pay every time I lose myself in one of them.
I get shy around her–nerves tighten my stomach muscles, and I play hide-n-seek with my words. why am I like this?
does she notice? will she say something?
and every day we shoot the shit like I ain’t dreaming about cuffing her to the base of my heart and whipping her hips under my arms.
“I’m a sinner. I’m a saint.”
and I no longer feel shame in this skin I’m in, but this woman . . . this fine, Black woman, skips and dashes, slips and thrashes her way into my mind more than I realize, and I
A Cornered Gurl 
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