*Sighs*
Why are we here with this topic? Well because, I am sick and tired of seeing young women well past the baby stage with baby hairs casually laid across their forehead and edges in almost every hairstyle dreamt up by current and trending stylists who want to keep this God-forsaken look alive when it should be dead, eulogized, buried, and left ALONE!
I said to my best friend and cousin in a text message the other day: “I really, really hate those stinking fake baby hairs these young women have in their hairstyles. I cringe every time I see it. *Sighs*” My cousin, ever the optimistic, responded, “It’s a fad. This too, shall pass.” It’s a fad that doesn’t need to be a fad that makes absolutely no sense.
Back in the day when this style was IN, circa the 70s, 80s, and 90s, little girls and young women actually had baby hair or slick hair with which to lay their edges and forehead. These young women are creating curly Qs and baby hairs where they just aren’t supposed to be and doing so in such a way that requires calculation and geometrical tactics, and I just have to shake my head. Exhibit A: feast your eyes on this YouTube short of someone teaching her audience how to apply baby hair to a hairstyle:
I should have prefaced this by saying if this is your thing . . . do you, boo. Please, do you. There are a ton of other things I could be soapboxing about, but this here is the hill I chose today, so here is where I stand. I love people expressing themselves in every way they choose, but what I do not like are folks grabbing hold of something they think is new and running that thing into the ground without being keenly aware of why that thing existed in the first place.
The crush’s daughter loves this baby hair trend. I told the crush how I felt about it and she is in agreement. Her response was, “You know these kids gotta do what they see others do. Makes no sense to me, but that’s how it is now.” And yes, that is HOW it is now. There is no originality, no uniqueness, no want to build and create something that may not have happened before or to at least put such a spin on that thing that folks believe it has never occurred before.
I am going to segue briefly to the fact that I encountered a clerk at The UPS Store a few days ago while mailing a package who could not read cursive. I spelled my name, my mother’s name, the addresses, etc. And she still did not type the info correctly into the system. I finally had to pull out my driver’s license, hand it to her, and say, “Please just look at my license and get my information. I’ll repeat the recipient’s info momentarily.” I was so frustrated with this child that I had to take several deep breaths when exiting the store. This is what happens when cursive and penmanship are removed from schools.
The younger generation has a foreign language before them when one writes in cursive. It’s perplexing to me, and I will never understand it!
Back to the baby hair issue. My godsister had a style with baby hairs when I went home to Savannah, GA to visit this past April, and it took everything in me not to word-vomit all over our brunch every time I looked at her. She’s in her 30s. WHY, boo?! WHY? LOL. She asked me a few times, “You okay,” and mildly, each time, I’d say, “Yeah, I am good.” Because my food was too good to allow the likes of someone else’s hair to ruin it and the mood was far too great for me to actually dampen it with something over which I have no control. I wasn’t going to rain on everyone’s parade. I know when to reel it in and act accordingly. But boy was it hard!
It is becoming evident that my generation is old and bold and the younger generations behind us are young and shunned. We can survive with little to nothing, display ingenuity when it most requires it, have lived through getting home before the streetlights came on, know what VHS and cassette tapes are, and can probably quote 75% of the movie The Color Purple (1985) without hesitating or flinching.
If you are a habitual baby hair applier, I wish you peace. I hope you find the hairstyle that fits perfectly with your face and head, and that you do not continue to beat a dead horse that should have never been resurrected. And if you intend to carry this trend deep into 2025, at least, use gels and spritzes that won’t push your hairline back five years from now. Think of your forehead, children . . . think of your edges. What have they ever done to you to deserve this?
*No baby hair was harmed, maimed, or brutally criticized outside of this post. Don’t come for me, please.*
HAPPY NEW YEAR, beautiful people! If you can’t laugh, you can’t live. Peace and blessings. And may the new year be most kind to all of you.
Sometimes, people have a way of making you believe in your work more than you did before reading their thoughts on it. Khaya Ronkainen is one such person. Her recent review of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction in Lit eZine, Vol 7 sets a gimmer of pride deep within my heart for the work I created. It is a blessing to read the following lines:
The book title Séduire—meaning “to seduce” in French—has an alluring ambiguity that could play out in several intriguing ways. When mulling over the title, three interpretations came to mind. First, the art of seduction where characters use charm and persuasion, sometimes edging into manipulation to achieve their goals. Another aspect is the case of the “forbidden,” enticing readers to explore risky or morally ambiguous choices made by characters. Then the intrigue of the mind examining how people, beliefs, or environments steer characters towards obsession, inspiration, or change.
These above interpretations are not far-fetched. Because the experience of reading Tremaine Loadholt’s collection of Serial Tales and Flash Fiction, Séduire, felt akin to delving into a jar of assorted cookies where one isn’t sure what to expect, owing to unique flavours and decorations that the author could have added in the batter, so to speak. However, this book should not be mistaken for the sweetness of cookies. It is an incredibly moving collection that explores dark themes such as loss of love, death of a loved one, racial prejudice, sexual abuse, among others.
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.
To read the review in its entirety, please direct yourself to the site for the eZine. I am honored and thankful to have a writer and reader of Khaya’s caliber review my book in a way that leaves me magnified by every word–pleased that I took a chance on myself. As writers–creatives, sometimes, we need this, and well . . . I needed this.
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.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
Solstice Sadness
Winter sneaks in, draped
in drama, hands on
heavy hips, waiting to
cover us in dysfunction.
I know I won’t say anything
when I see her today, but I’ll
want to. And she won’t say anything–I’m the expressive
one when it comes to
“such a time as this.”
We’re feeding off of cold
energy–trying to warm our
hearts, both too afraid of
being hurt–it’s just around the
corner, yet we’re holding on.
The Emotions’ “What Do the
Lonely Do at Christmas” comes
on and tears stream down
my face.
How can you listen to this
song and not feel something?
The air outside sends a chill
to my bones that is indescribable.
I am frosty–winterfied by
jealous winds and made stoic
in the presence of God’s
season.
“You have too many periods
in that one statement for me
to feel comfortable about your
reply” she tells me as she reads
my response to her asking me
not to hate her for picking
up another shift that cuts our
time in half, and I read and
reread the statement, and the
only thing I can come up with
is, “I don’t know why you’re
uncomfortable. I place periods
where they belong. It’s
grammatically correct.”
My spectrum brain didn’t see
the coldness of it–the short-and-to-the-pointness of it, and I
have to remind her sometimes
it’s best I communicate verbally
because word of mouth
in written form can be
misconstrued.
We agree it’s our emotions
taking over . . . we care too
much not to care at all,
and this season always finds
us tugging war with ourselves
and the battles are many.
I am fighting for more than
peace and strength.
I am fighting to be understood
by a world that may never
understand me but it
hurts so much more when
she tries and she can’t, either.
Happy Winter Solstice, beautiful people! I’ll be spending this day with someone very near & dear to me. I hope all of you will get the chance to do the same.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
81 years of your words
channeling ties to writers
before you–Baldwin, your
brother-in-verse can breathe
easier now.
heaven has its two wordplayers
in one space again, what will
it do?
we’ll miss your timeless
poetry, your swaying voice,
and your infectious smile.
holiday havoc meshes with
upcoming winter cheer, and
a world without you can
only hold on to your spirit.
you fade into black . . .
your final number,
an encore.
Rest in Power, Nikki Giovanni. Your words live on–and through them, so do you. Amen.
we’re living in the last
days of working together
and both of us are losing
peace, but we don’t want
to admit it.
she thinks my leaving would
cause me to gravitate toward
another or forget her or let
go of what we’ve built, and
I’m shouting from the highest
of heights that this is
false.
we are connected in a way
that cannot be damaged.
she knows this–holding on
makes her feel like she’s
letting go.
“We are so much more than
work-related. This environment
doesn’t define us.”
and she sees, then hears
those words, but fear is
still a marker I have to fight.
“I say what I mean, and I mean
what I say. We will still be us.”
I know insecurity lies
in the depths of her beating
heart and at the base of
her troubled mind, but I’m
giving her my word.
“You can’t say I haven’t kept
my word. For as long as
you’ve known me, I have
never disappointed you.”
she admits the truth of this,
yet I still have to kick through
past culprits to show her
I am who I say I am.
tomorrow is a day we don’t
want to see.
there are mixed feelings, but
an inkling of happiness
caresses my heart.
I am changing even though I’m
scared to death.
I am moving on from a place
I’ve known for years . . .
and she thinks the gravity
of the intensity of this
change will move me away
from her, too.
try as I might, I can only
do what I have been doing.
I cannot make her believe.
A Cornered Gurl 
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