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There will always be debates on how to show a man you’re worthy of him keeping you around by doing certain things. I’m not too sure what works and what doesn’t work in terms of making a man stick around and showing him you’re not just wifey material but should be his wife. What I do know is,  you should’t knock it until you try it and do what you feel is appropriate because every man– and woman — is different. Check out some of the most notable “make him keep you” advice around. What’s worked for you and what hasn’t?

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According to the website This is Africa, South Africans rocking dreadlocks might want to lay low for a bit as it appears that they are the new targets of a underground human hair theft ring.

“Police say not many cases have been officially reported – there was one case in Durban last year, and another in Johannesburg last month (in which a Zimbabwean partying with a friend in a club went missing and was later found passed out and shorn of 10 years’s worth of locks. The thief/thieves didn’t touch his mobile phone, wallet and money; listen to The Times‘ reporter Poppy Louw‘s interview with The World, below), but one stylist told a reporter that he gets up to 10 customers a day asking for such extensions, and a police spokesperson said the crime goes underreported because many victims are too embarrassed to report the theft of their hair. Sounds plausible; after all, how on earth do you explain having your hair stolen? And poor cops, how do they manage to keep a straight face while taking victims’ statements?”

I know I couldn’t keep a straight face reading the article. But as noted in the article there have only been a couple of reported cases so the literal wig-snatching has not yet reached epidemic portions. Also, before anyone thinks of going on about those “crazy Africans,” the article also notes that the dreadlocks theft is part of a international trend, with reports of high-stakes human hair extension thefts occurring in cities across America.

What’s most compelling about this story for me is the idea that there is actually a market for human hair. Especially dreadlocks. Like what happened to just growing your own?

And this is not the first time I heard about this fake dreadlocks trend. Erykah Badu shocked the world (or maybe just me) when we realized that the signature dreads she used to rocked upon her arrival on the scene, were actually fake.  And not too long ago, I witnessed with my own eyes a guy in the next salon chair over from me, getting blonde dreadlocks extensions weaved into his hair. I tried not to stare and gawk but I couldn’t help it. First, I couldn’t get over how realistic they looked. And secondly, I wondered if the ghost of Marcus Garvey past would be visiting this dude in his sleep…

I mean nothing wrong with that…you know, screw it. Yes, dammit! There is something wrong with fake dreadlocks. I’m sorry I don’t take hard stances when it comes to hair politics. I tried to stay #TeamSwitzerland in the whole #TeamNatural versus #TeamPressNCurl fight. So I think I am entitled to one hair prejudice. And this whole fake dreadlocks trend is where I have to draw a line down the glue track. Fake dreadlocks just seem flat out self-defeatist. Unlike some of the weave styles, which require certain textures of hair to achieve, your own hair is the required texture for dreadlocks. Sure the argument could be made that dreadlocks are just a hairstyle and like any other hairstyle, is not a definition of a person. However I feel this particular hairstyle does has more of political and spiritual significance than the average hairstyle. And even as they have grown more fashionable, dreadlocks are still generally regarded in that same historical connotation. So those, who choose the hairstyle usually embody this historical significance and in some cases philosophies in one way or the other. I mean, why else would you risk being socially and economically ostracized for a hairstyle?

Maybe I’m just being a hair snob on this issue. If so, I can live with that. But the idea of a person rocking a press and curl on Monday and by Friday, they look like Damian Marley, just sounds like something a hipster poser would do. Anyway what are your thoughts on the fake natural trend?

Photograph courtesy of thegrio.com

Communication, or more specifically, social networking is changing rapidly. That’s no big secret. And since I began using Twitter more frequently last summer, I have decided that valid college courses (perhaps even whole degrees) could be dedicated to the psychology of social networking. It has opened up a whole new dimension to the study of human behavior. Everything is taking place online, from business networking to the forming/ending of friendships to flirting to dating and even to proposing marriage. With so much personal interaction happening from behind a laptop screen, especially where potential friendships/relationships are concerned, the question then becomes, “How do I know that the person on the other end is legit?”

The new age answer? Time and Twitter.

Let me explain. I interact with very few folks who don’t have Twitter or Facebook, the big kahunas of social networking. When forming new relationships, being aware of a person’s “online presence” is an important supplement to our in-person assessments of each other.  I learned the interesting way that lots of young men tweet their true thoughts and feelings while holding up masks to please the ladies they want to impress. I wanted to yell in a Katt Williams-esque screech, “You big dummy! Did you know that I can SEE you?! The real you?!” We, women do it too but I’m not on that right now.

Of course, I have a personal example for y’all: Though this particular guy didn’t use his Twitter account much, he liked enough of my tweets to send me a direct message. Cool. I was testing out my newfound “openness” since my friends swear up and down that I’m too guarded. He led his pursuit with his admiration of my writing skills and my natural hair. Like a moth to a flame I was drawn. A dude who could rock with two of the things I love most? Hail yeah! But having dove in headfirst a time or two before, the 89.7% guardedness that still had a hold on me said to take it slowly. I heeded the warning and pumped the brakes.

For the first few months there was virtually no topic we couldn’t discuss and I can’t lie, I was analyzing his every move to see if this could become something more. He said all the right things. He was a gentleman when we met up for lunch or dinner. He was respectful of my values.  I was swooning to my girls.

He started using Twitter more frequently and watching him get the hang of hashtags and the “@” was cute. Then, he started tweeting more often. For a while it was mostly his self-proclaimed authoritative sports analyses. But then, the other shoe dropped. Out of nowhere came a barrage of tweets outlining how to ‘quickly get the box’ from even the most jaded females. Then tweets about how ‘ugly and/or fat females have no room to be picky’ when it comes to finding a mate and so on and so forth, to the point that I didn’t even recognize him. Looking at his tweets and our conversations, you would think that there were two totally different people present or that he had one heck of a personality disorder. When tweeting/Instagraming/Facebooking with his boys he was vulgar, chauvinistic and downright mean. I understand men don’t speak the same way to their love interest/significant other as they do to their friends – and I’m actually GLAD that they don’t – but THIS bordered on bipolar schizophrenia. Then, one night he decided to “subtweet attack” me (passive aggressively tell me off via Twitter) for not wanting to come out to the city with him. Chile, no. Uh uh. Nope. I set him straight, blocked him and deleted his number with the quickness. I had learned all I needed to learn through my slow-paced six months of “introduction” to him and it was clear that this was NOT a match.

People call it “Twitter stalking.” I call it simply taking myself and my time seriously enough to be aware of a person from all angles – how they are with me, their family, on Facebook, at the club, etc. Just as much as I paid attention to what he said verbally and through body language in person, I paid that same amount of attention to who he was online. I’m not saying one should over-analyze every little deed, but for goodness’ sake, be aware. Social networking has allowed us to freely (and sometimes unknowingly) expose our true selves through a seemingly one-way glass of anonymity. It’s a gift to the genuine but a curse to the fake. Time and careful attention to the details will outlast the smoke and mirrors and give you an all-access pass behind the scenes. So be patient. Be open. Be aware. And get to know someone from all sides. The attention to detail is worth it.

La Truly is a late-blooming Aries with Natural hair and lots to say. Her writing is powered by a lifetime of anecdotal proof that awkward can transform to awesome and fear can cast its crown before courage. Armed with the ability to purposefully poke fun at herself and a passion for young women’s empowerment, La seeks to encourage thought, discussion and positive change. Check out her thoughts/jokes/rants on Twitter: @AshleyLaTruly.  

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As I made my way down the street today,with a lot on my mind as I headed to a doctor’s appointment, I found myself stopped at one of the many lights that separate me from my train station. While waiting, thinking that I should have checked the weather before I hit the streets in tight black jeans, I heard a mother say the following to one of the two children she was trying to give orders to. I guess he might have been calling himself having an attitude:

“Unfold your damn arms! I don’t know why the f**k you be actin’ like yo a** don’t know how to listen.”

…When I was young, most parents didn’t embarrass their children like that when at home, let alone curse them out like they stole something on the streets. They might put a finger in your face or put some bass in their voice in public, but you got yourself together just in time before they let you know you were going to get tore up when you both got home. In fact, my mother could make me feel just as guilty and bad by simply giving me the “Girl, you had better stop unless you want to see my belt when we get home” face or letting me know that she was truly disappointed in my behavior. But these days, people are talking uglier to their kids, referring to them as even uglier names and just can’t discipline them without calling them something you can find in Urban rather than Webster’s Dictionary.

Not only was this woman’s statement to the little boy embarrassing as people watched him get berated on the street, but it was unnecessarily harsh. I know that children can often be a hardheaded pain, but it always makes me cringe when I hear an adult curse like a sailor at a child who will most likely soak in that language and use it on someone else; Whether that be a classmate or a teacher who gets called everything but a child of God because they tried to keep them in check. People underestimate how much their outbursts or explicit conversations with other adults around their children can influence the language kids use with others. And sadly, using strong and unacceptable language to address children has become all too common.

Need another example? Well, just a few days ago, as I walked with a friend back to her place post-church, I heard a young mother talking to her friend while pushing around her son in a stroller. Out of nowhere, instead of calling him by the name she gave him, she chose to say, “Yeah, that little n***a tryna walk already.” As I watched my friend’s face turn up, I asked her, “Did she just call that little boy a “n***a”? She had, and after the fact, she laughed about it and went on with her day with her friend. I’m sure as the day went on she probably called him a lot more than that.

I don’t know about you, but it seems as though if folks aren’t cursing out their kids like Mo’Nique in Precious, they’re referring to them as everything from little “n***as” to “muthaf****s” and more. And they’re clearly doing it everywhere too: on the streets, in the stores (grocery AND retail), at the parks and at restaurants. A few are older parents, but many I find cursing up a storm are young parents, ones barely out of high school, maybe a few years into college who don’t seem enthusiastic about the responsibility that’s become a constant in their lives. I often wonder if these parents are the same ones who we hear about holding their babies under scalding water because they cried too much and too long, and starving them because they resent them. These stories get people’s blood boiling and remind folks of why not EVERY woman is fit to have children. I guess it’s a testament to the fact that if people aren’t ready to handle their responsibilities, and only find themselves yelling rather than talking to their kids, they might want to rethink their sexual activities and doing what’s putting them in these positions in the first place.

Maybe I’m being too judgmental, but I can’t see how cursing a child does them any kind of real good. All I know is that patience is wearing thin and the results are hurt and confused faces like the little boy I watched on the street today. And if you were wondering, after his mother’s rant, he looked like someone told him that he wasn’t and was never going to be anything. I’m not saying she was is a bad parent, but that behavior would probably rip her out of the running for “Mother of the Year.” Nowadays, both parents and kids are having the tantrums, and it seems as though it’s the parent who could use a time out…

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Before I go any further, I want to say that hair has been a very hard topic for me to grasp. Ever since I was a kid, I just wanted to take my hair and put it in a ponytail ALL of the time. Easier said than done.
But as we get older, we learn more about ourselves and how hair is in general. It’s funny sometimes. I often see moms with their biracial children, hair frizzy and in bows, beads that are clearly weighing down their possibly thinning hair, and gelled down curls. If they catch me looking at their child’s locks, they give the look, one seeking confirmation that says, “Hey, this doesn’t look bad does it?” No matter what I really think, the truth is, I can’t tell others what to do with their hair or what looks right, because guess what? I don’t even know what to do with my own hair. But if you read the comments on stories about biracial hair or listen to people every day on the streets, folks would think I had it so easy. Many people believe that because a person is “mixed,” they don’t have issues with their hair or that there aren’t different types within that spectrum. WRONG.

I’m a happy biracial butterfly: African American and Puerto Rican. Although I have four older sisters, my younger brother and I are the only mixed kids in my family. Growing up, I was constantly frustrated with my hair. It would take my sisters about an hour or so to finish their hair, but it literally took forever for me, and whatever style I chose would only last for a minimal amount of time. However, they used to tell me that I had nothing to complain about, and they had these delusions of versatility about how it was easy for me because my hair could be worn wet or blown out. (Fortunately my grandmother never really let that happen-if they had cornrows or box braids so did I–a funny but weird sight.)  Easy wouldn’t have been my word of choice.

It wasn’t until I was in high school and college that I noticed the many types of hair textures that make up biracial strands. I met girls who were in the same ballpark as me. Either they couldn’t control their hair, or damaged it from experimenting too much. I knew that it wasn’t just me who had a problem with the politics of hair either. There’s the hair that never curls, curls that can’t be controlled, and hair that is either too dry or too oily. The combinations are endless and I can go on forever about it…but I won’t. In that time I learned from my friends and other women what I was doing wrong and how I could keep my hair nourished and healthy.

A lot of that nourishment and good heath starts with the products we use for our hair. Sometimes “mixed” products are too weak for the hair and you could just be harming it rather than helping it. Some of the best products are the ones you may be ignoring, like Aussie’s Deeeep Conditioner or Miss Jessie’s products (that is one investment I wouldn’t mind making because it really works!). It took a while after dabbling with different products, but with time comes growth.

I’m not ashamed, or feel bad about my hair anymore. I used a little gift that works for ALL types of hair in the end–patience! You’re going to run into a couple of dead ends, but those mistakes just show you how to improve. Yet and still, while I do appreciate my hair more these days, I don’t have this over-the-top sense of pride that my sisters thought I would have. You know, the mindset that because my hair is wavy it’s better than anyone else’s hair. In fact, I hate the term “good hair” with a passion, especially since no one’s hair is “bad.” In this day and age, if you still believe in good and bad hair, form your own opinions and don’t take definitions like “good hair” for face value because if it’s healthy and beautiful to you, then baby, it’s indeed good.

All in all, I share my story of struggling with my strands to say the following to those like me:

1.) Hair isn’t your identity: Many people who aren’t mixed are often targeted for saying things like my sisters did, but sometimes you are to blame too. Just because you’re mixed or you believe that your hair is “good” doesn’t mean it is. Step down from the high hair pedestal that society has given you and look around. You’ll see that everyone has awesome hair.

2.) Embrace your curls: If you’re a mom out there reading this, just know that you don’t have to kill the curls (flatten or press them to death) so your children don’t look different from other people. Different can be good, but just remember to mix it up!

3.) Don’t give up on your hair: At one point I did, and I realized I caused more damage (physically and emotionally) to myself and my locks by ignoring them. There are tons of tutorials online, and you can also request samples for products before you make a serious investment. While it’s a struggle, with patience and effort, your hair will surely be your crowning glory.

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