Jun 18

Jun 18 Get your Hands Off my Fro! Why you Absolutely, Positively Cannot Touch my Hair

ecently, I read an article on Twitter about a group of black women who organized an event in which they stood on the street and allowed strangers to touch their hair. Their purpose was to educate people about the diversity, texture and care of black hair. While I’m all for education, especially on topics where ignorance is prevalent, my immediate reaction was, “Oh, hell no! You can’t touch my fro.”

Now before you start making all those jokes about stereotypical black women and their hair issues, let me make them for you. I am the girl who spends hours dealing with her hair; I’m the girl who has far more products than she uses; and I’m the girl who will give you a piece of her mind if you put your hand in her hair uninvited. When it comes to my hair, I am the epitome of stereotypical black chick, and I’m not sorry. Here’s why.

Jun 6

Jun 6 Gym Class 101: Life Lessons I Learned in the Gym

SweetTee

Life Notes

am a squat goddess. I dedicate myself to putting heavy ass weights on my back, squatting down, and standing back up. I’m also committed to picking heavy ass weights up off the floor, pushing heavy ass weights above my head, lunging across the gym with heavy ass weights, and so on and so forth. The heavier the weight, the better I feel about it. Ultimately, I’m devoted to, not only my health, but my strength, both mental and physical, and to the maintenance of a body that looks good and works well. Since I started training in August, I’ve noticed a lot of significant changes in my life. My body changed, but there’s a lot more to it than just bigger thighs and a rounder ass. I’ve changed as a person. For me, the gym is more than just a place to lift weights. The gym is a classroom, and I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons that apply long after I’ve put the weights down and changed out of my sweats. Here’s what the iron has taught me.

May 14

May 14 No Man is an Island: Why You Should Be Neither Selfish nor Unkind

SweetTee

Life Notes

If you fell sick on the street today, what are the chances that someone would help you? From some of the things I’ve witnessed in recent months, I’m not too confident that I wouldn’t be left lying on cold Toronto pavement as people stepped over me. The days of Good Samaritans seems to be drawing to a disheartening end. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that this society’s new favourite words are “me,” “my,” “mine” and “I”. Many of us think of ourselves as individuals capable of being perfectly independent of everyone else. What a grand delusion.

Last week I was sitting on a full bus. A man in a wheelchair – not the motorized kind, but the ones you have to propel by hand – was getting off at a major intersection. As the driver lowered the ramp and the man rolled off, the light turned red. Not proud to say it, but I groaned, as I was in a hurry. From my seat in the back of the bus, I watched the man, slouching down in the chair, wearing a dirty motor jacket, open to show his large doughy belly, and a dingy baseball cap pulled down over his greasy long hair, back his wheelchair toward the turning lane. In disbelief, I watched helplessly as the man slowly rolled the chair off the curb, and toppled out on to the pavement.