The New Crack…

“This must be what crackheads feel while holding that rock in between their grimy fingers after selling their kid’s last item of clothing.”

Seafood bisque is my new crack. Seriously. I don’t care that it’s spicy as hell and burns my throat. I don’t care that I can’t identify some of the things floating around in there. I mean, I see the little lobster and crab pieces…but I really don’t want to see the little calamari bits, so as I near the finish line,  I look away. It’s starting to become a habit now, this seafood bisque. No other soup quite satisfies me in the way that seafood bisque does. Well, maybe cow heel soup, but only because of the dumplings…and maybe the carrots. I can’t believe this post was almost entirely about soup.

I’ve discovered that I truly love having locs. Dreds. Whatever you want to call them. I started my “journey” about 2 months ago. My mother told me I wouldn’t like them and that they would have to cut my hair incredibly short to start them. “You’re going to have those wormy looking twists, “she said. “You going to put sugar and all kind of thing in them?” my grandmother asked. The question I got the most was why. Why? Why would I want to cut off my long, permed, blonde/brown, thick, “good” hair? They told me I changed my mind far too often to do something so permanent. “I’m going to start a facebook group called ‘How Long Will Tiffi Keep Her Locs?” a friend said.

My reasons are many. Far too many to type out (cause I’m lazy). Personally, I find locked hair has always made the wearer look like royalty. My research tells me that the Egyptians wore locs. Thick, ropelike…they look like vines. They are so beautiful that I can’t help but to stare. This is black hair in its natural state. No hot comb, no perms that make your scalp burn. I permed my hair from the age of 12 to 25. I know what it’s like to have a scab on your head because you scratched before going to the hairdresser. I know what it feels like to have perm drip onto your ear while the stylist frantically rubs it off. Anyway–the whole locktician experience is totally different. She greets me by name, asks me about my week, the condition of my hair, and just takes care of me. She offers me water, tea, juice, veggie burgers. The vibe is warm, friendly…welcoming.

However, I don’t yet feel like I’m on that “level”. The whole consciousness movement seems like it skipped me over. But I want to be that “earthy” type. I want to send my children to African dance classes, and celebrate Malcom X’s birthday, and truly enjoy soy. I want to have that inner glow, that special light. My hair is growing, but am I?


2 thoughts on “The New Crack…

  1. I locked my hair a little over a year and a half ago…the older people in my family still aren’t fans of it but everyone else likes it now (like they matter)

    Just this morning I was walking to the subway and I noticed a woman with her locs tied into a gorgeous bun…I couldn’t halp but stare.

    On day…

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