My Hair and I-A love story!

Toree Brooks

November 22, 2010

English 1A, Ms. Lennon

MY HAIR AND I--A LOVE STORY

      A month ago, I took out my individual braids. It was excruciating and my complaints weren’t making my fingers move any faster. Every moment, I kept craving that someone else would take pleasure in unraveling my “nappy” roots, rinsing out the dandruff and styling it. No matter how much I could daydream of a good hair day, I always had to do it by myself. Since I didn’t have the resources at the time to go to a salon, I struggled to wash it by hand, grease it and sculpt into an afro. An hour later, I strutted into my mother’s bathroom to gain applause on my hair of a masterpiece. Instead, her smile faded over a matter of seconds and I could see the strain in her eyes as she scanned my whole head. “Baby girl, let me fix that. Bring me a comb and I’ll show you how.” As comforting as her words may seem, she still brought tears to my eyes. We both had a feeling that it wasn’t the best I’ve done, but I felt it was the worst of my failures at a “black” hairstyle.

      I’ve always had a good amount of hair in length and texture. Always.  Anyone who has seen my old pictures or met me in person knows my hair is one of a few things that people notice about me. It’s only second to my enormously endearing smile. When I have my hair pressed straight or in flowing curls, I get a river of compliments from my kinfolk. When I try a natural look like an afro or wear twists, I get a group of people turning their heads in awe as if my hair was speaking to them in an unidentifiable language. It draws people in like hungry bears are to honey. Sometimes, the boldest of most people ask to touch my “soft and silky” mane. It’s not only with my race, but every ethnicity regardless of their age or gender like my hair. If only I could see that in myself.

      While some people thought my black hair was compellingly beautiful beyond words, others refused to think so.  And one of those “others” was my mother who initially encouraged my hair growth at a young age. She tried a variety of hairstyles, including the infamous afro as a woman of the 1970’s but favored the straight look on me. I remember those moments when she spent hours each day to decorate my hair in barrettes and colorful bows that matched my outfits. Now my mother does think my hair is “pretty”, but her “pretty” ultimately means “I would try another style. It looks too different for you.” I squirm at the thought that she can still pull out the pressing comb on me whenever she wants. If I ever do anything drastic to my hair, my mother would take forever to adjust to the new appearance. But then again, so would I.

      I’ve had plenty of hair accidents and each one has taken my hair to the grave. I was utterly careless with my hair around the age of 10 and I used to wear my semi-long hair in two-strand twists all over my head. I hated them at first, but eventually I learned to embrace the style. One day, my mother took me to my friend’s birthday party and they had a jumper that all the kids were playing in. I ran inside of it and bounced like crazy with the birthday girl. All of a sudden, I got pushed towards the edge and one of my hair pieces got stuck in the net. When I jumped too quickly, my hair was pulled out. I cried for hours afterwards and the pain wouldn’t cease. When I wanted to touch it, all I could feel was air and that left me thinking that I would be bald. My mother had to cut my hair to a certain length and wear it in a low afro. People thought it was cute, but deep inside I hated it and it was a change I wasn’t ready to make. To this day, my hair takes a lot longer to grow and left me permanently scarred.

      Every time I wore my hair outside the straightened look, I was stereotyped as a person who was trying to make a statement. I assumed wearing it natural would be cute, but it would help my hair grow thicker and healthier without chemical-infused products. I always had the fear that all my hair would fall out and in my community, black hair was a symbol of beauty. For a long time, I thought my hair was the only thing that made me beautiful because it was the only feature people admired about me. I got easily depressed when it wasn’t professionally done. I lost my confidence when I walked into public areas and always want to put a beanie on top of my “fro”. All my hair anxiety came to a calm end when I saw a young black girl, around my age, in the salon with me and she was getting her hair cut off completely. The beautician cooed her into crying silently while she chopped off long strands of her hair within minutes. Her hair was severely damaged from over-processing and when she looked into my eyes, I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in mine. How could I ever complain about my own hair when people wished and pleaded for hair of their own? After witnessing that fiasco, I vowed to rarely succumb into complaining about what I didn’t have.

      After all the pain and suffering that I’ve been through with my hair, I still and always will love my hair. It has given me a sense of identity and I pride in whatever style I put it in now.  It may not be all the way down my back or short and sexy like Keri Hilson, but hair is hair to me. I don’t put a value on mine and never will. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and people have an opinion to what they think of my hair regardless of a style. I love my hair and it loves me back, no stereotypes attached.

Speak Up Don't Be shy!

Toree Brooks
October 6, 2010
English 1A, Ms. Lennon
Speak Up, Don’t Be Shy
    Without a doubt, everyone has a few moments in life that they wish they could take back or have personal flaws that they desperately desire to change. When I reflect on myself, however, I realize that I have traits that I find highly annoying and it motivates me to alter a piece of who I am for the betterment of how others perceive me. One of the traits that I wish I could change about myself is my shyness because it hinders my jolly personality and people view me as a person who is insecure.
    When I’m around my friends or family in a public area, I can be really sociable and friendly because I’m with people that know me quite well and I’m not at all concerned about what they think of me. They know me inside and out like a rehearsed script. On the other hand, my personality can shift into an introverted mode when I’m fairly introduced to another person or a large group of people. I become concerned with making a good first impression and focus on not being nervous whenever I talk. For instance, I had a bad reputation for shifting my eyes when I spoke to another person or stayed quiet during group conversations to prevent myself from saying something stupid.  When I did this, people who didn’t know me labeled me as a person who rather be to themselves or doesn’t like to gain a lot of attention from others. I consider this to be a habit that I acquired from being too dependent on how other people viewed me. If I don’t get people to enjoy conversing with me during our initial encounter, I tend to stay bashful for a while until I get to know you on a personal level.
    At times, being shy can put me at a huge disadvantage because I miss out on huge opportunities. I am always the first one to think lowly of my ability to do just as well as others or even better. People tell me that I don’t give myself enough credit and ask me why I rarely speak up.  I believe that I’m not shy all the time, but sometimes I give people a nervous vibe when they are around me and often think I need a confidence boost. This happens a lot when I’m working with new people on a group project and when I want to elaborate on my ideas, I usually don’t unless I’m asked to do so. By doing this, I gave up my right to speak because I was nervous about what others would say. I didn’t believe I had that right because that’s what I believed I was.  My shyness affects my confidence level in the social life and holds me back from interacting with others. Nobody gets to see my beautiful personality when I withdraw from meeting others and unfortunately, I get pushed along with the crowd.
    Having an extremely joyful personality behind the dark shades of my shy nature can be quite confusing especially with people that know me, but don’t know me fully. While I consider my shyness as a curse and very embarrassing, I’m in a process of overcoming my anxiety. I realized that being shy can be a major setback, so I continue to conversate with someone new and keep my head up high. If you learn to think and express myself to others with confidence, then shyness will not be a recurring problem in your future.

Who is my Mentor?

Toree Brooks
September 22, 2010
English 1A, Ms. Lennon

Who Is My Mentor?
I quietly waited for her in the comfort of a dimly lit corner at Starbucks and listened in on the tidbits of the customer’s gossip. With my mind buried in their memories, I started to devour the pages of my journal with a few words.  Focused with my fingers tightly gripped on the pen, I suddenly noticed her glancing at my journal with a nod of approval. “I see you’re in writing mode” as she greets me with a smile. We spill out into mild chatter and she gestures me to continue writing. When I stopped, she handed me a small book of poems written by teens my age.  Falling speechless to her unpronounced generosity, she chuckled. “You write profusely and I admire that. You remind me of myself and you really have the gift of writing.” At that moment, I felt a sense of connection to her and I couldn’t hold back from reading what I wrote. Not only did I want her to hear it, but I wanted her to feel the power in my words. I let my words linger in the space between us and she took her journal out. I knew I had sparked an idea in her mind and with one look, we both planted a poem in our heads waiting to blossom on the page in front of us. In my opinion, I have always considered a “mentor” to be a person who guides another to better opportunities and provides an extensive amount of support. They can come in the form of a teacher, a family member, or a friend.  A person that I consider a mentor in my life is Kirsten Giles because she has been the guiding force in expressing my self through writing and is beneficial in all aspects of my life.
Having Kirsten as my mentor has given me the chance to enhance the strengths of my writing and tackle different types of written prose.  Every week, we wrote on a subject that enticed us and she applauded me every time I put effort in writing. I learned how to construct a storyline for a screenplay and practiced writing poems without rhyming. I love to write poetry, but sometimes I don’t make sense. Each time, she viewed what I wrote and commented on it in a way that I could learn from my mistakes. Not only did she help me, but she continually gained insight into who I am as a person.  With her help, I began to write less on typical themes such as love and delve into topics of writing that involved me to think deeper. I applied what we talked about and eventually my poems were stronger from the way I constructed my wording. Kirsten encourages me to write with confidence and trust the words that I speak. The writing that I produced spoke volumes of my skills as a writer. All she did was challenge me to write bigger and better.
While it was easier for me to write my thoughts on paper, it was even harder to articulate what I wanted to say. I never found the right words to express myself and it felt like I was loosing my writer’s intuition. Not only did Kirsten and I write together, but we talked about issues that hindered me from performing my work. She aided me in verbally expressing my poetry without too much emotion, but with more character. She took each stanza in my poem and made me approach it in a different way. She helped me the most when I had to perform spoken word at Leimert Park. Thinking back to all the times I read aloud to her, I was able to communicate a written piece that left the audience with a lasting impression from my words. When it comes to writing, I am reassured that Kirsten is there to guide me and can depend on her as my network of support. She continues to lend a hand and never ceased to demonstrate my full potential as a writer.
As a mentee of a professional writer, I have gained a lot of benefits from having a mentor. I have learned lifelong skills that will prove useful to me later on in life and have a lasting bond with someone who shares the love of writing as well. From the constructive criticism to talking about life, I can say she is an asset to me that is worth more than any material or book can offer. Kirsten has tons of experience in her writing and I admire her for sharing her knowledge with me.  I can say that a mentor is the best person to have because they look for the best in you and my mentor won’t settle until she witnesses me striving for the finest in me.