It’s just a week short of 2 months since I cut my hair. When I look at my reflection, I no longer have to stare for a minute or longer to process ‘wow, that’s really me.’ Today, the girl staring back — or is she a woman, now?— is still a curious figure, but I like her vibe. As I’d hope, walking in this new hair has taught me quite a bit about womanhood and life in general. I thought I’d share…
(You’ll also see I snuck in more photos from my awesome shoot with Tonjanika Smith Photography).
I have a terrible habit. I’ve written about it once before (even made a video on it), but writing and speaking about it once isn’t the same as a lifetime of moving above this pitfall in human nature.
Introspective to a fault, I can usually tell when I’m in the grips of a bad habit, but this time I was so caught up. I didn’t recognize it till a friend confronted me with “Didn’t you write a blog post about not doing that?” I rationalized and made excuses. But I knew they were right. What wrongdoing was I up to, you ask? I was fervently looking up grad school programs. Just awful, I know.
We regret to inform you…
I got a rejection notice today, and it sucks. You’d think I’d be wholly desensitized to being turned down the amount of times it’s happened, but no – the pang of disappointment still hurts. Seeing that tower I built in my head of what could have been crumble to the ground is never easy. More than once, it crosses my mind to never build such a tower again, to never want anything so bad, and definitely not ever try to get it. Because it’s sad, discouraging, and heartbreaking when those seeds of hope and desire don’t blossom to fruition. It just sucks. But I can’t lie, I have gotten much better at dealing with rejection.
Acknowledging the gap between where you are and where you want to be can be frustrating. You see, I have a vision for the woman I want to be: someone confident in her own skin. Someone with the quick wit to admonish anyone who’d challenge her self-worth or the principles she holds dear. She loves hard and she knows how to accept that same love in return because gosh, darn it, she deserves it. She knows her place in the world and she kicks ass in her chosen field. Her work environment inspires her and the fruit of this inspiration not only sustains her livelihood, but makes the world as a whole an all the more livable place.
Scrolling through Instagram, I feel the sudden, involuntary gut-drop as I swipe down past the fancy décor, cute puppies and exotic locations: someone I know from college has announced his/her [insert success about something I always wanted to do]/have been trying to attain for the past [insert a time that shouldn’t be taking so long]. Let the comparing begin…
It would be easy enough to blame it on my childhood. How I grew up under the (loving) dictatorship of a Jamaican mom who told us that “talking back” would have us taken out of this world by the very person who brought us in it: her. #GrowingUpCaribbean #GrowingUpBlack
Either way, this notion of speaking up to authority, airing out grievances, as something I could do – would have to do – seemed impossible up until a few weeks ago when I slipped on my big girl panties for one of the first times in 2016 and confronted somebody.