Since I moved to the US last year, I've spent a lot of time thinking about race. Not because I decided to jump on any specific bandwagon or anything, but literally because being here, it smacks you in the face. Growing up in my London bubble, I saw myself as a Londoner with Jamaican heritage. There were lots of us around and that's how it was. Of course, London isn't a complete safe, racist-free microspace, but compared to what this year and a half in the United States of America has shown me, that city is streaks ahead in Black White relations.
This week, with the Trump election so fresh, I've felt completely overwhelmed by what feels like a very pointed hatred of Black people, Mexican people, Muslim people, LGBT+ people, in fact, everyone who seen as Other by the majority of the White electorate. Of course there were people of other backgrounds who voted for Trump, but the OVERWHELMING majority of White men (63%) and the majority of White WOMEN (53%) still voted for someone who promises to restrict movement and freedom of people who don't look or think like them. Make America Great Again - when was it great and who was it great for? Certainly not us.
I'm so tired. Emotionally fraught and drained. Mostly I feel shocked and so sad - though most African Americans are shaking their heads at me as they read this going "really girl? How are you still surprised?"
Is this really what it feels like to be Black in America?
Mural by Joel Bergner (and US!!), taken from his instagram - see this and more here: https://www.instagram.com/joelartista/
So last month, I spent some time in South Africa, working on the above ^^ mural outside an orphanage in a neighbourhood of Johannesburg called Berea. The work was partnered with an organization called the Sophie A Kanza Foundation, and some of the volunteers from the org were these beautiful young women who wore a mix of gorge hairstyles. I figured, why not take this opportunity of being in Africa to find out how Afro hair is treated here and why I was seeing SOOOOOO much relaxer and so many weaves in the continent our hair is from. So I spoke to them about it!
This month, I've mostly been singing this. Every time I KILL a twist out look. Every time I want to show off my curls (my hair's getting really long, you guys!). Every time I get near kids while my hair is out and kicking it, enjoying being open to the elements for once. Every time I see a rogue hand racing towards my head.
Please.
Don't.
Thank you Solange Knowles for putting it so succinctly and so beautifully.
Don't touch my hair
When it's the feelings I wear
Don't touch my soul
When it's the rhythm I know
Don't touch my crown
They say the vision I've found
Don't touch what's there
When it's the feelings I wear
They don't understand
What it means to me
Where we chose to go
Where we've been to know
They don't understand
What it means to me
Where we chose to go
Where we've been to know
You know this hair is my shit,
rode the ride, I gave it time
But this here is mine
You know this hair is my shit,
rode the ride, I gave it time
But this here is mine
What you say, oh
What you say to me [x8]
Don't touch my pride
They say the glory's all mine
Don't test my mouth
They say the truth is my sound
They don't understand
What it means to me
Where we chose to go
Where we've…
taken from Solange's digitalbook "A Seat At The Table"
Tonight, while I
watched the numbers move, the UK as I knew it moves slowly and
steadily towards the right. The "Conservative" right. The xenophobic right.
The place where people silently gathered together with their torches
and set fire to the thin veil between tolerance and hate.
I'm not in London,
or in the UK right now and I'm so glad – for me. I'm not
glad for my sister or my mother or my nephew or his unborn little
brother who are going to have to live in a country where their rights
to be there will be called into question more than they are already.
If I was given a pound (no, actually, not a pound because that's worth NOTHING right now,) every time I'd been asked “No, but where are you really
from” I'd be a millionaire. The colour of my skin renders the answer "London" unsatisfactory to most. But there, the beautiful
multi coloured bubble I grew up in, that question was more of an
annoyance than a threatening challenge
to my authenticity, chipping away at my right to be there.
Well, that's what I thought anyway.
OK so 51.9% voted Leave. What now? What happens next? Does the UK continue as normal, just bothering its inhabitants with a bit more
paperwork than usual when
they want to pop across the Channel?
Does this mean that all the British ex-pats living in Spain and
France and Germany etc need to return home and put their lives on hold while they wait for the paperwork to
legitimise the work they'd already successfully been doing for years?
Why am I so upset? Mostly because I
feel like the rug has been pulled out from underneath me.
Like SURPRISE! WE HATED NON-WHITE NON-BRITS THIS WHOLE TIME!!
...Although
now I recognise that the rug was there extremely precariously in the
first place. But now it's clearer. Slowly but surely, they are coming for us. The different looking,
different sounding ones. Only now the light is on so they can't creep
around us in the dark anymore.
We
see you.
Being
Black in Britain, Jamaican no
less, is a strange and
interesting fruit. Sometimes feeling completely accepted – your
food and music adored by your peers - and sometimes feeling completely
isolated – your hair consistently questioned and tugged and your
culture...viciously misunderstood. Running in circles where you are one of a
minority constantly called in to answer questions for your people –
although, these people who people assume are your people, actually
cover a huge diaspora covering continents and mother tongues. I can't
answer for them.
But
now here I am speaking for them. Because although ostensibly, this
vote isn't about my people, whoever they might be. It's not about race, it's about saving the economy, right? It is about
protecting Britain from the immigrant strain, right? It's about putting
British people first according to Britain First. It's not racist
because the people we're hating now are sometimes white. Sometimes
Bulgarian. Sometimes Polish. Sometimes Turkish. Sometimes Syrian or Afghan but they're
terrorists anyway so it's ok.
Guess
what? It's not ok.
I'm
taking deep breaths. I'm inhaling through my nose and exhaling
through my mouth but the pit of my stomach still feels weighed down
by lead and hate and fear and questions. Was the United Kingdom ever
really United? Am I mourning the
death of a false nation built
on false memories of acceptance and mutual cultural
appreciation? Nigerian
men buying their food in
Polish shops. Indian teenagers talking with Jamaican inflected
accents. Of course, this mental pictures were all taken in London and of course, London
voted to Remain In. For that I
can only say
how proud I am of my city and what it represents. The city who voted for Saddiq Khan (whose move to
get rid of those idiot “bikini body” tube ads was a terrific
first move. We learned our
lesson after Boris-gate).
The city that didn't let us down.
For now, what's done is done. Maybe David
Cameron will resign (wishful and unlikely thinking). Maybe the
backlash of the falling pound will rally the Labour party and the sleeping Brits who assumed the others would
take care of their vote, will wake up and show up.
We can only
cross our fingers, hope
for no violence, and wait.
In 2014 a good friend of mine O, introduced me to what a Mandala was. She, as it happens, had been told by the one and only Miss Karla-Jayne Thomas, co-founder and co-writer of this blog. Small world huh! The simplest way that I can describe a mandala is that it's an image that's used in different ways but essentially it's a representation of life. Sounds pretty lofty, check the Mandala Project's website HERE for a more enlightened description than mine.
Sand Mandala from the Southbank Centre's Alchemy Festival 2015
Karla had come across the idea of creating her own mandala that she could use to map her intentions for the coming year. How it worked: she drew herself in the centre with her intended goals shooting off her, and after laying it out on paper she spent time looking for images that she felt represented those intentions. Karla used her mandala as a daily reminder of her goals. She would look at in the morning, at night, whenever she needed to visual the things she was aiming for, and it worked! Not always in ways that she had expected, but it worked. O told me that 2 of Karla's goals had been to end up in New York and to cycle more, so later that year when she found herself cycling through New York with the future Mr Karla on an impromptu bike ride, looking back it didn't seem so serendipitous.
I'm not a life planner. I tend to float from one thing to another without any hard goals, which is not as fun and spontaneous as it sounds.I want better for myself and not to continue coasting along at life, so in 2014 I followed Karla's lead and drew my own mandala. It didn't have pictures but I set out all the intentions that I wanted for the year, which was good enough for me. And whaddya know, it kinda worked, at least partially. Some of things I thought would be the biggest challenge for me, I actually achieved. Now I'll be honest, I didn't focus on my Mandala it as much as I could have, or worked on my goals as much as I should have, but nevertheless I still achieved some of the things I'd written down.
My 2014 Mandala
How did I do? Well in 2014 I joined a professional Dance group, BOOM! I became the Queen of my Samba school, WIN! I went to Goa for a friends wedding, AWESOME! I joined a gym, YAAS! Some of my goals weren't realised. The goals centred on my overall confidence and establishing myself as a writer/journalist are still a work in progress. But I was happy with what I achieved and it made me realise that with more effort I could achieve bigger and better.
Last year I didn't have a mandala and 2015 turned out to be a tough year. My relationship ended. I'd been with my boyfriend for a while, but things weren't as they should have been and he decided he didn't want to continue. I did and still do love him, so coming to terms with not having him in my life anymore has been difficult and I'm still finding it hard. I was working in a job that I grew to hate and it was making me very unhappy and stressed. In the summer my granddad was diagnosed with terminal cancer and told he had few months to live. I live with my grandparents and helping to care for my granddad, watching him deteriorate and dealing with the realisation that he would not be with us much longer was heavy. He died at the end of November.
Mandala under construction: another Sand Mandala from the Southbank Centre's Alchemy Festival 2015
There were times last year when I didn't know who I was or what I was supposed to be. I felt numb, powerless, alone, sad, anxious and angry. I was struggling with lots of aspects of my life, and it felt as though the significant things that I thought I could rely or defined myself by were disappearing because of my own inadequacies. It was very negative space that made me feel very insecure about myself, from my appearance to my ability to achieve anything.
My shitty job had to go! The week after I quit I went on a long samba weekend with my Samba school and it was exactly the medicine I needed. After that I took a break to look after my grandparents and I surround myself with people and things that made me feel better. It helped a lot but it didn't stop the low moments when I didn't have a clue what direction to go in, and putting one foot in front of the other felt like the hardest task. It was only towards the end of last 2015 that I started to feel better about myself.
I have always fought with feelings of inadequacy and it's the main reason why I'm rubbish at looking after my own needs or pushing myself. But, if I'm going to tackle my demons and make lasting changes I have to dig deep and start to invest in myself properly, and do so a lot less superficially than I've done in the past.
Gorgeous Mandala by Lisa Chang, check out her Instagram
I'm tired of being too scared to even dare to ask myself what I want, let alone believe that I can achieve it. 2015 went by Mandala-less, but I'm not about to let that happen for another year. If you read my New List post a few years ago, you'll know I'm not a fan of making New Year's resolutions. But even I can't deny the sense of renewal that happens going into a new year! So, in preparation for the brand new year I put together a my mandala 2016. It's more ambitious than 2014's. Some of things on it frighten (me in a good way though) because they will require me to invest in myself more than I have ever done before.
I'm not going to share my Mandala. For now, its for my eyes only to focus on and be responsible for attracting any of the help and opportunities I need to fulfill my dreams for this year. I promise though to reveal it by the end of this year and you can help judge how well I've done. I'm excited, daunted, scared! But you know what, change is never born out of being comfortable it is!
So much has happened in 2015 I'm not sure quite where to begin, but here are the basics.
- I have moved to New York to pursue my love of comedy (and stability with the man of my dreams).
- I have begun taking classes in comedy; acting sketch writing etc, and have thus met a wonderful group of creative people who I am thankful for (I'm looking at you, Handsome Bag of Thumbs).
- I got involved with a wonderful feminist network thanks to my dear friend Mensen and have taken my place as a core organiser for a feminist event called Yeah, That's What She Said.
So, just over two years ago, I wrote a post entitled "When You Gonna Find a Nice Man and Settle Down?" Well, it turns out that I agreed to do just that last Wednesday when I responded to this very eloquently delivered question:
Mural by Joel Bergner in London's Leake Street Tunnel
I was 18, about to go to Uni, and I wanted a hairstyle I could manage without the help of my Gran. So why the tears? Well, (and I still feel pathetic admitting it, but) it was because my Mum and Granma decided to go Bad Cop/Bad Cop on me and ridicule my choice of hairstyle!
They made it very clear that no self-respecting, style-conscious young woman would be seen dead in the outdated, childish style of braids I wanted. You see I wanted single, not too thick, box braids à la Brandy back in day. Unfortunately my mum and gran insisted on canerow braids à la Alicia Keys. Nothing wrong with that style but NOT want I wanted. According to them my hair was way too thick for box braids, I have to add too much synthetic hair to my own and I'd end up looking stupid. Just the kinda encouragement you need for when you're about to move away from home! The humiliation and frustration of supposedly being an adult and not being allowed a say on how I looked broke me that day, hence the waterworks.
Brandy circa sometime in the 1990's -
What I wanted, minus the burnt ends
The style I was strong armed into getting -
Alicia Keys.
I hated the braids. They were thick, heavy and I couldn't style them the way I wanted to. Not surprisingly they only lasted 2 weeks before I took them out and swore never to go there again!
Fast forward 11 years and....I finally went back there, a month ago. As the Queen of my Samba School (EXCITING HUH!! But more about that in a later post) I was having the most amazingly, beautiful costume made for me for Notting Hill Carnival. The designer wanted big, long hair to go with his eye popping creation! Hmmmm, up cropped dilemma one. If you've read my Phony or not to phonypost, you'll know I prefer not wear hair pieces when I dance, and as you're now fully aware, the last time I had any hair like appendages attached to my own, the experience is not littered with fond memories. What, to, do?
Do as you're told and OBEY, that's what!
You only get to be the Queen of my Samba school once and Notting Hill is our biggest event, so you goes hard, or you damn well goes home! Besides, I fancied a change, and bum length box braids were one hell of a change!
While I'm in the UK, planning my next leg of world domination, I'm looking for regular work. A way to work smart, not hard. A way to pay the bills without breaking my back as I usually do.
My boyfriend, who is American, obviously recommends me to look at Craigslist. "There are a number of unusual creative jobs on there! I'm sure you'd find something interesting" he says.
So on I go...and this is what I find:
Well. This one was...interesting, just as I was expecting. I'm not entirely sure what constitutes a "crafty female" but I'm assuming that it's just your run of the mill lady person who doesn't mind making some light basic labour tasks. Naturally. Although I couldn't help but wonder whether one might have to undergo specific tests to monitor improvement before aforementioned "more complicated tasks" would be handed on. So many questions but defo something to follow up on.
Occasionally, on laundry day, I have been known to rebel against propriety and go commando. Never have I ever considered turning it into cash. Until now. However, in this time of iPhones and Skype, I'm not entirely sure why I would need to go out on laundry day, in public, in my old work team building T shirt and slippers to prove to a stranger that yes, all my pants are in the wash. But on closer inspection, I realised that although I am woman, I am also over 25 so don't have to worry about this mess anyway.
Hang on. One minute I'm not meant to be wearing knickers and the next I've not only got to wear them, but I've got to go and spend tens of pounds on brand names, just so this chancer can buy them off me? No thanks mate. I wonder if these two know each other though and have a kind of tag-team situation going on? Ahhh the questions...
I would like to meet the author of this post, just to find out for myself what his issues with his father were. Also, as this was categorised under "non-profit organisation", I love to discover exactly which NGO to google to get the link to the video because it sounds fantastical.
Having looked at these and really, really having a think about them, I asked my friends if they knew of any jobs going and found a receptionist placement through my friend's dad. Thank you internet, but I think I'll stick to more old fashioned job acquiring techniques for the moment.
My name is Karla, and I am a Black Girl who Rocks.
This is how all of the honourees at BET's annual Black Girls Rock awards ceremony end their acceptance speeches. I know this because on a muggy Sunday September afternoon, I turned the channel over to Sky's BET during the ad break from a Friends episode, to watch a re-run from last year's awards show and an hour later I'm still watching, completely in love and inspired by all of these women.
From the recipients of the M.A.D Girls awards (Making A Difference) - motivated young women who take action to inspire their communities by doing things like creating Green superheroes and touring schools and leading workshops promoting the ethical agenda from age 7 (Brooklyn Wright), to Mary Pat Hector the 17 year old calling for teen activism to see that black youth in her community don't slip through the net - to Activism awards for Chicago based "Interrupter" Ameena Matthews, as well as living legends Queen Latifah and Patti Labelle.
The winner who inspired me to write this post, was the recipient of the Shot-Caller Award, Mara Brock-Akil, the producer and writer of Black led shows Girlfriends aka the "black Sex And The City" and new TV show Being Mary Jane starring Gabrielle Union from Bring It On fame and the first Black romantic interest in Friends). I don't know how many of you know this, but it is a dream to write a TV comedy series. I spent this last summer in the US where I am in the process of moving to researching and nest searching so I can chase this writing dream, starting with a course at the UCB in New York. I usually cite my inspirations as Tina Fey and Amy Poehler - incredible comedic writing talents who started out in improv like me, but that is because I feel a glaring absence of Black women to look up to, women who might be able to fulfill a similar role. Mara Brock-Akil's acceptance speech echoed my sentiments.
"Everywhere we turn, we see our beauty reflected. Unless you're Black. And a girl...And when there is an image that resembles us, oftentimes on closer inspection, it's not us..."
For as long as I can remember, I have been on a search for Black female comedians who speak the same language as me. A writer and comedian who from London, from a Jamaican family, who went to a private school (thank you John Whitgift Foundation and your bursars for funding my brain) and so doesn't subscribe to many of the stereotypes that mainstream media likes to perpetuate.
As I mentioned in this post, Youtube has been a great source of alternative voices, but I think there needs to be MOAR!!
And that, my friends, is my lifetime's mission. To be the Black Tina Fey. To be a new Hannah Pool aka the only English winner of a Black Girls Rock Award. To be the person I want to see in the world.
So as you'll all know from reading my posts, my friend Spike Lee showed up a couple of times to samba rehearsals at the samba school I paraded with, Vila Isabel.
Me and my mate Spike, hanging out
Now I know why...
He was scouting for his latest "joint", which turns out to be a film for something calling itself 'Pepsi Beats of the Beautiful Game'. The song, entitled "The Game" is sung by Miss Kelly Rowland, and video has a story of its own.
The video tells a fictional tale of a young football fanatic living in Vidigal (a favela in Rio's South Zone). "Pixote's Game" stars my fellow passista, Pedro, as a 'John' (or a pimp, not quite sure...) as well as the mestre and other members of the bateria of Vila Isabel.
I started writing this to you a right after the PARADE OF MY LIFETIME. But then life got in the way, Rio de Janeiro turned CRAZY in anticipation of the World Cup, and so it's only now that I'm sharing this with you. On my last night in Rio*.
On THE NIGHT! photo courtesy of Emily Ainsworth
Arriving here back in October, my mission was clear - to live the life of a Passista (samba dancer). If I didn't get in to parade with a samba school from the Grupo Especial (Special Group), I would at least go to their rehearsals and try to improve to increase my chances of one day being accepted. My ambitions were lofty, but the stars aligned and Unidos da Vila Isabel (my first choice) accepted me, and I started to live and love it. In fact, it's a Saturday night, two and a half months have passed, and I'm still getting my head around the fact that I don't need to start gathering my Show Things together for another night of sambão at the Vila Isabel quadra.
I know what you all want to know: how was the parade? How was it? You started learning samba when you were 19 and 10 years later you're parading with a samba school in the SPECIAL GROUP in Rio de Janeiro's SAMBADROME! Was it amazing? Was it? WAS IT???
In a word... No.
But, would I do it all over again?
In a freakin heartbeat.
Last month I spent the day at a seminar that has changed the way I think about life. It was hosted by an amazing, inspirational woman, Sidra Jafri who shook me, and a room full of attendees, by the shoulders (not literally, but she might as well had) and told us to stop making excuses, break down those self imposed barriers and start opening our eyes and minds to the opportunities all around.
For a long time I've been really struggling to find some balance in my life. There's been a whopping great imbalance between immersing myself in things that I love but that have become safe, vs those that I needWANT to do for myself, but require more work, and are all together more scary. It's left me feeling like I've lost a bit of myself, and the sense of detachment from achieving some of my goals have left me frustrated and sad at times.
After Sidra's workshop, I've felt more at ease with myself and my situation, and I've been more aware and capable of changing what I don't like. One thing that she positively branded onto my mind is this: when the Universe, God, life or what ever higher being/purpose you do or don't believe, in drops an opportunity at your feet you, you pick it up! DON'T waste it through fear or doubt. Last week I had a great lesson in this.
My Wednesday last week turned from being a normal humpday to a good day and then great a day. Why? Because I let it - simple. I woke up feeling good. My plan was straighforward enough, to have a morning run (I've had runners block for nearly a year) and this was going set me up for a day of writing. But before I had even left the house for that run, the Universe had already been conspiring to make this Wednesday into a goodun.
This year I missed out the on Women of the Women (WOW) Festival at Southbank Centre :(.
Weave vs Natural debate at the WOW Festival 2013
Last year, it was awesome. Three days of talks, seminars and debates about the issues that face women today. One of the things I made sure not to miss out on last year was Weave vs Natural? The Politics of Afro Hair. WhileI'm eagerly awaiting this year's Weave vs Natural discussion from WOW 2014 to be uploaded to Youtube, I found this warm up discussion from BBC4's Women's Hour last Thursday. Journalist Hannah Pool, who chaired last year's and this year's Black Hair discussion at WOW, debating the topic of with Black hair with hair and make-up artist Editi Udofot. Find out what the ladies had to say about Weave vs Natural HERE. Kanika x
These past couple of weeks, I have mostly been not sleeping.
I am teaching English here in Rio, which I enjoy very much, but irregular working hours to coincide with students' regular working hours means lots of travelling, useless hours missing from my day and very little time for effective daytime napping.
But mostly to blame is samba. Carnaval is soon approaching and boy don't we know it. Before Christmas, rehearsals were Wednesday and Saturdays. Now there has now been a Sunday rehearsal added into the mix. Last week, Tuesday evening was for rehearsing in Sapucai, aka the Sambadrome aka the passarela (catwalk). The hallowed Avenida that sambistas sing about all year round in the run up to this one time of year they are able to show the world what they've got. They are able to be whoever they want to be. The Avenida is where dreams are made, and in my case, come true.
Edson, the Director of the Passistas
So one Sunday after a street rehearsal (my favourite kind), the Director Edson (left) told us all we needed to be at the Sambadrome at 19:00 in our blue and white to practice with the bateria (drumsssss). I don't know if you know, but dancing with a bateria is maybe one of my favourite things to do in the whole world. And I was about to practice with this school I loved, on the same ground I've seen from the stands and on YouTube and on pirate Carnaval DVDs. And when I stepped onto it in my heels, I felt overcome with emotion and pride.
First things first, I don't
like being called 'Gringa'. A Gringa or Gringo, is a boorish outsider, willingly ignorant to the ways of the place they are visiting... but I've accepted to a point that a "Gringa passista" is
how people will see me - and indeed refer to me - initially, once they realise that not only am
I not from the neighbourhood of Vila Isabel, but I'm not from Rio. In fact, I'm not even
from Brazil. But here I am.
I'm sure some of you have been wondering what I've been up to recently. You knew I came to Rio but then apparently disappeared (and for that I apologise). So what am I doing here?
Since 2009, when I started dancing with the London School of Samba (LSS), I've watched videos of amazing passistas (samba dancers) making this complicated dance look so easy and
graceful and magical. I wanted to be them. I chose Rio's Vila Isabel samba school because I liked what it
stood for: history, tradition, love and samba. I had been invited to
audition for Unidos da Tijuca – another incredible, prize winning school, known
for its constant innovation and explosive parades. However, as a
dancer, there was always something about the passistas that I didn't
quite connect with. At Vila, I would always see a variety of styles,
elegant sensuality but mainly ferocious samba no pé (basic samba step). And as for the male dancers, the
malandros,... I have no words. So yes, Vila Isabel was my first choice. The perfect place to
grow, learn and improve on what I'd learned from my amazing dance teachers
in London. As champion of Carnaval 2013, Vila Isabel was probably the
most ambitious one to try, but there I was, trying anyway.
I arrived at the quadra (samba school's base) of Vila Isabel one Wednesday in October for an ensaio communidade (community rehearsal) with my boyfriend by my side for
support. My aim – lofty as heck – was to find whoever was in
charge of the ala passista (passista section) and convince them to let me join and parade in Carnaval 2014.
I found the Director, Edson, and
introduced myself.
“My name is Karla, I'm here from London and I
just want to know what it would take to join the passistas and dance
with you guys.”
He first suggested that I could take
samba classes, some of the passistas were teachers and I
could have lessons from them. But I glanced at my boyfriend (who had
earlier told me to not be afraid to big myself up “fake it til you
make it, babe”) so I looked Edson in the eye and said “Oh, I
KNOW how to samba...” After a beat, he told me that there
isn't an exam to be a passista for Vila – you just have to
show him what you can do. Show him that you're worth it.
“Mostra, e eu vejo.” - Bring it and
I'll see...
So the following Saturday, this time
with my friend Natasha and soul sister Ana, I dressed
up, put my heels on and went to a Feijoada (a party where the traditional Brazilian dish is served) in the quadra. Edson had
told me that it would start at 14:00. I arrived at 17:00 (this was
Rio after all).
The show started at 19:00. This Carioca
timing does take some getting used to...
Once the bateria (drum section) started, the passistas
created a roda (dance circle) and each entered to shine. When they were done, Edson
came over and invited me into the circle with a male passista for
company. It was all a blur. I had been worrying about slipping out of my
shoes and making sure the fly on my shorts didn't come down but the
second the beat came in, I let the rhythm of the bateria take me because, YOLO. I went for it. Danced my heart out. I didn't realise it until the end when I looked up, that the women
were smiling at me and Edson, unsmiling, was nodding his head. At the
end of the roda, I went over to ask what he thought.
“Come on Wednesday. 20:00. Wear blue
and white – little shorts or a skirt and bring high heels.”
#Proud #Nailedit #OMGWHATdoIwear!?
After a rehearsal. Sweaty and happy.
Photo courtesy of Joel Bergner via Instagram
Since then, I've gone to every
rehearsal. Wednesdays for the community rehearsal with all of the
alas; and Saturdays for the shows (except one as I was visiting
Salvador). It's important to show dedication, and there is a register
for you to sign to make sure you're there. Miss two rehearsals with
no valid excuse and you, dear dancer, are OUT. The shows are always
amazing and this close to carnival there are often celebrities
visiting, Like the time Seu Jorge waltzed in with Spike Lee, later
followed by Mart'Nalia. Other samba schools visit too. Since I
joined, we've hosted samba schools such as Cubango, Innocentes de Belford Roxo, as well as
a carnival party to which 17 schools attended and Carlinhos do
Salgueiro and his Acadêmicos do Salgueiro dancers brought this...
Video by Karla-Jayne Thomas
Yesterday (Saturday, 18th
January) I realised pretty early in the day that I wouldn't be able
to dance that night, but I knew I had to go anyway to show my face
and sign that damned register. When I arrived, there was a LOT of
commotion, cameras and clevage. The competition to elect the Gay
Queen (Rainha Gay) of Rio was to take place in the quadra of Vila. Many of Rainhas of samba schools from all over Rio were there as judges, including Ana Paula Evangelista
(Mocidade Independente de Padre Miguel), Raissa de Oliveira (Beija
Flor), Sabrina Sato (Vila Isabel, of course), Patricia Nery (Portela) and Carla Prata (Rocinha). Rainhas or Queens are highlight dancers who act as Muse for the bateria, dancing in front of them during shows and parades.
During the break in the competition (which was incredible and
glamorous, by the way) the bateria played some classic enredos (samba songs) and
some of the queens came down to dance in the middle of them. I always
feel dejected when I think about how many queens pay for the
privilege of being there, but there was a moment when Raissa de
Oliveira was dancing with the caixa section, singing all of the words
to an old Mocidade enredo (Vira, Virou for you samba geeks) and Ana
Paula joined her, that I saw all the pure joy and elation that samba
brings to me. I felt it while I was queen of the London School of Samba at every gig, and
ultimately it's what led me here to Rio.
So what if I have to work a little harder to
prove myself to the Carioca passistas at Vila (most of whom are
extremely nice) because I'm new and because I'm not from there. So what if I
have to work a little harder to get Edson to pick me out to dance
solos like the other girls. So, I have to root around Rio to find the
shoes they wear or to find a seamstress that they seemingly all have
had since birth but can never remember the names of. But I will do
it. Because I love it.
This little nugget I found it thanks to @leannerimes while perusing twitter, will be making its way to a wall near me asap.
Being comfortable and sticking with what you know will not get you what you want to achieve. I know this, we all know this right, and somehow it's something that many of us have to constantly remind ourselves.
I know for sure that I could do with a daily reminder of this.
There's no two ways about it, it's the only explanation for how I could have missed something like this - last year's TEDxEuston talk 'We should all be Feminists', by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie...what the fudge?!
Flashback to this time last month and the world seemed to gasp a collective OMFGWTF! in response to Beyonce's eponymous 5th album drop. In between all the chatter and hyperventilating (yep, hands up, I was feverishly trying to get a glimpse of the new material too), I came across 'Flawless' on which Queen Bey samples extracts from 'We should all be Feminists'.
My knowledge of Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was limited. I knew that the Nigerian author had been nominated for and won a bunch of awards for her writing, but that was it. Then, I remembered co-blogger Karla tweeting me a link to an interview of Chimamanda's last year but, I hadn't read it. My bad, I should have!
A still from the Flawless video
At this point consider my face poked out from under my rock, head cocked ready to listen, my interest was piqued. In We should all be Feminists Chimamanda talks about her experiences as a feminist and how equality between genders (good ol' feminism) is beneficial to us all. For me her speech is spot on. In it she references issues like the gender stereotypes that we impose on our children and how these unnecessary pressures can go on to hinder our development as adults and as a society as a whole. Discussing the preconceptions she's faced as an African woman outside of her home country and a woman at home in Nigeria, Chimamanda manages to be funny and engaging.
In the past Beyonce has received a lot of flack for not being a 'good' feminist role model. Everything from her appearance to the content of her work and the fact that she's not an intellectual have been dissected to add weight to this critique. Despite some previous apparent hesitance to identity as a feminist Beyonce's recent body of *work isn't leaving us guessing about her feelings towards the F word. Either way I think it's pretty awesome that she sampled We should all be feminists. Being featured on the fastest selling album on iTunes to date can only help bring the talk and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie to a swathe of people who may not have seen it first time round. And if it leads to more people engaging in the gender equality debate, this can only be a good thing in my humble opinion.
*UPDATE - Last Thursday (9th Jan) the latest Shriver report by Maria Shriver and the Center of American Progress was published with contributions from the likes of Beyonce, Hilary Clinton and Jada Pinkett-Smith, all penning essays in support of gender equality. You can download the report in full and read the essays HERE for free until 15th Jan.
Last year one of my friends gave me a copy of TheBlack Hairdressing and Beauty Training Manual by Hyacinth Jarrett. I love poring over old books, photos etc and especially because of the subject matter I was all over this book.
Most of the styling in TheBlack Hairdressing and Beauty Training Manual takes you right back to the 80s and so, I assumed that it would be full of outdated and non natural hair friendly info. I was wrong.
Make-up tutorial for Skin tone no.2 Medium Olive (left) and Skin tone no.3 Dark brown (right)
Black hairdressers don't always get a good wrap in the Natural Community and unfortunately a lot of the criticisms thrown in their direction are not unfounded. Instances of ignorance, unprofessionalism and down right shocking customer treatment are definitely not unique to Black hairdressers, but they're not as uncommon as they should be. Who hasn't heard a cautionary tale or experienced themselves salon treatments gone wrong, or stylist's that don't seem to know or, perhaps worse, care about what they are doing to a client's hair? It's for reasons like this that I and many other curly girls surfing the Natural Hair Movement have stared away from stylists. When it comes to hair, I'm of the opinion that if it's growing out of my body I should know how to look after it better than anyone else, and if I don't, I'll learn! If I want hair advice I don't look to stylists or magazines or even female relatives, I go to the 'Net. I look to women, many of whom don't have formal hairdressing qualifications but who, through lots of research, trial and error and patience are walking around with awesome healthy heads of hair.
TheBlack Hairdressing and Beauty Training Manual made me check some of my assumptions about Black hairdressing. Although there isn't much information specifically about natural hair care, there is lots about basic salon hair and beauty from the scientific breakdown of treatments to how to provide proper client consultations and even how to successfully set up and run a hair care business. TheBlack Hairdressing and Beauty Training Manual has theall information that you would expect to be a standard part of hairdresser training, but from previous visits to salons where some of the stylists seemed to lack basic hair care knowledge and customer services, it makes you wonder.
