 As National Mental Health Month comes to a close we have a responsibility to ask; are you okay, sis? This may seem like a simple question, but you never know the magnitude it holds until someone asks you and you've been holding the weight of the world inside for too long. A few years ago I had my first bought of depression. I mean, I was a happy person who had a thriving social life that was always out of town, making new friends and loved the lifestyle my job provided. Then it happened...I became irritable and withdrawn, hated my job and the people whom I worked with, besides for work rarely left my house, stopped going out to have fun, didn't shop (this was my favorite past time), nothing. It all stopped. After joking with Phoenix how I was so tired and needed time off to regroup, she recommended that I seek therapy. Like most black families, mine didn't discuss mental health outside of dementia, schizophrenia, or PTSD when someone you all knew was diagnosed and you received the gossip. Mental health along with other subjects are just taboo in the black community.
I must admit, I took Phoenix's suggestion with a grain of salt and figured it would be a joke. Boy, was I wrong! Therapy helped me to realize not only did I have major daddy issues, I had mommy issues as well. She helped me to understand that I hated my job because I wanted an out to pursue my entrepreneurial endeavors but was too afraid to do so because I didn't want to lose my cushy lifestyle. It helped me realize that I needed to ignore society's standards for what my 27 year old self needed to have accomplished. Therapy helped me to realize that I'd listened to so many of my friends and families issues and didn't have anyone I felt I could really talk with about how I was feeling. Not because they weren't there, but because I put their needs before my own. I'm the strong friend you read about. The one who will lace up her too-tight Timbs (you've heard the story on episode 3 lol) to go gather some edges, the one who will help you fill out those business and grant applications, the same one who will be right there to pump you up because you deserve more. I strive to be the friend that checks on her friends, but fall short in doing so consistently. So I needed help and therapy was that outlet I so desperately needed. Acknowledging that I was depressed was one of the hardest things for me to do because I'd heard the horror stories and saw the judgmental looks and such. Outside of therapy, I could really only talk to two people who knew exactly what I was going through and we supported each other like no other.
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 “I want to be with you, but I want you to relax your hair”
I have heard and saw discussions about Black men that dislike Black women’s natural hair…you know the hair that grows from our scalp…like theirs. We are the mirror image of Black men and we accept them in their natural state, so why is it a problem for us to rock our hair in its natural state? Hell why the fuck is this still an issue? I’m beautiful and even White men love my natural hair…so why did it bother me so damn much? This man told me that he doubt if his dick would get hard because of my HAIR!!!! My hair y’all!!! What the PHUCK!! When I met this man about 20 years ago, he was just starting his locs, and we know that for the most part, that is not a cute look, but hey, I found him attractive and he had a nice body. We started working out together, he actually got me started working out, and we dated off and on for years. His locs got longer and longer, and I thought they were beautiful, he was beautiful…and I loved the way they smelled (I can smell them now….ahhhhh) he kept them very neat and clean. I used to breathe this man. Anyway, fast forward some years we went our separate ways because of some other bullshit with him, but I won’t get into that, he reaches out to me and tells me he has a surprise for me and to check my phone. I check my phone, and I see the beautiful white straight teeth I’d also found to be so sexy, gleaming behind sexy lips I knew so well….mmmmmm, but on the face of a bald-headed man…well not quite bald headed, but a low haircut. My heart hit the floor, my eyes watered, and I could barely breathe…what the fuck happened to my Black, long loc’d jesus?!!! I was heartbroken…but I got over it…he said he needed to cut them as they were preventing him from getting a decent job…I could respect that. I accepted it and moved forward…he was still the attractive man I was crazy about and I was still physically attracted to him. So that is the backstory. I am angry because this man who now has a receding hairline and couldn’t grow the same looking locs if he wanted to, he dare to tell me my hair is sexually unappealing? He also finds dark skinned women like Lupita Nyong’o unattractive and nappy headed…when he said this, my mouth dropped. How did I not see this 20 years ago?
 Listen, I went to see “Black Panther” twice! I am considering going a third time to see it in 3 D with my nephew--*Wakanda Forever*. Watching the reported numbers so far--$1 globally the last I checked—is blowing my mind! With “Black Panther” absolutely smashing the box office, sis, you have to rethink investing! Investing is simply another way of supporting the things you love, use, or buy into as a stakeholder, as opposed to a consumer.
I have spoken to several friends and family about investing. The feedback has been very interesting. A majority of the feedback has been that many people are interested in investing, but are not sure how to get started, what kind of information they need to get started. Today, you’re in luck, sis! We are going to hand out some. Sis, sit back and let me tell you some things about investing to get you started on the path! |
AuthorRead the extension of our podcast as hosts, Charli, Kay and Phoenix write about issues concerning woc simply because when you know better, you'd do better. Do better, sis. Archives
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