Growing up I was girly without being a girly-girl. My mom always badgered me about everything. Don’t run around or speak too loudly that’s boyish behavior. I hated it. I was a tomboy for two years, but even when I got older I didn’t feel the need to wear ribbons and lace to assert my status as a woman. However, growing up in the 90’s and blindly absorbing both American culture and the popularized urban black culture I lost many of my feminine ways. When I was young my family didn’t have much money so I was forced to live in urban communities. In these communities there is massive unemployment and broken families that leave budding young girls like me vulnerable. I was sexually harassed frequently by the black men and boys in those communities well before puberty. No one policed this behavior. Not the fathers, uncles, or mothers of these delinquents. There are many types of mothers out there. My mother who once encouraged me to act super feminine switched after I hit puberty. Once I hit puberty she tried to prevent me from growing into a woman by suppressing my femininity. I wasn’t allowed to wear make-up, earrings, or engage in many activities that allow a young girl to value the beautification that men love. No, I don’t mean wearing mini-skirts and whorish make-up, I didn’t learn how as a woman I should assert my femininity and how to navigate relationships as a woman. Instead I grew-up emulating pop culture, but the black version. I was always naturally beautiful and shy, but I picked up many traits that some black women have due to coming from poorer backgrounds. Growing up smiling and laughing casually was not something you could do in a poor black community. Many black girls learn at a young age that being friendly in your own neighborhood could open you up to more unwanted sexual harassment from black male predators. As a result, I always felt uncomfortable being around new people and had a slight don’t bother me look on my face. It’s a defense mechanism I learned before the age of 13. It wasn’t until I moved to North Carolina for college and noticed how random white women would always smile or nod at me to politely acknowledge my presence. I realized that I could take a deep breath and behave like a normal woman without the stress of being followed or harassed. I realized then why my mother sought to prevent me from expressing my femininity. It was because she knew that no matter what in those communities even as a young girl I would be viewed as a sexual object to be used and that I could be manipulated if I got too much attention. Whether she liked it or not I grew up to be very beautiful and had no problem showing it off, but luckily for me I had learned several thing from living in environments like that. I knew that I didn’t want to poor, I didn’t want to be a single mother, and that I didn’t want to be attached to or live around the decrepit black men that plagued my old community. This wasn’t just one city. I moved around a lot and wherever there are poor working class or poorer blacks living together that’s what occurs.
I never was a fan of the way people throw the word “ghetto” around. I also don’t like the current use of ratchett or how women think it’s cute to say oh that’s soo ghetto. How foolish black , latino, and white men, especially those living in privileged communities try to dress ghetto or act like rappers. I don’t even listen to rap. Most can’t imagine what it’s like to not only be poor but to live in the ghetto. Many of these rappers lived like I did in elementary school. Living in a poor community with broken homes where women have no standards, men don’t take care of their children, and boys are mobilized to kill, rape, or steal due to their depravity was a nightmare. That is what a ghetto is. That is what I saw as a child and since my mother moved me to a suburb in the 6th grade I never had to live that way again. But I will never forget. I can’t forget, because although my mother worked her way up as a software engineer I have aunties who did not. I have cousins (female ones) who are always angry. They are rude and angry. They have kids out of wedlock in high school. That’s what happens when you stay in the ghetto or don’t want better for yourself. It’s not a joke to me. When I meet people from my hometown they always bicker with me. You’re not like me you can’t be from D.C. You don’t act like it. You’re smart and educated and classy. I’m like wow does this person know just how much he or she just insulted themselves and their entire family. So…you can’t be from D.C. and be those things. Ha. Sadly, many of them are not. The ones that are like me and my mom are so humble people think we’re from out of town. But don’t worry. I’m not that person anymore. I’m free. Many black women are oversexualized. But whose decision was that. After my husband and I got married a year ago I changed completely. I dress modestly. I’m conservative and choosy about those I associate with. I was cooking dinner the other day and my husband told me how classy and elegant I was. I was shocked mainly due to the fact I’ve always been clumsy and tend to trip easily. Still, marriage had matured me more than I know. Not just marriage, but having a loving African man as a husband. He was nothing like the black boys I grew-up with. He’s nothing like my exes who were all black with crazy ego’s and a sense of entitlement from women they don’t even provide for. He’s a provider. He’s patient, loyal, and understanding. I woke up the other day realizing that I had let myself go. I used to be spontaneous and dressed sexy all the time. I definitely captivated my husband with my sexiness, but we both waited until marriage and afterwards I started to dress rather lazy like most wives do. He loves my natural beauty but I realized that I stopped dressing up like I used to. I realized that I didn’t have to dress overly sexy like I used to but instead I wear blouses and flowing chiffon skirts. I love primary colors, but wear corals and blues. When I dress modestly and feminine even in bad neighborhoods I receive respect. My headscarf says I’m a Muslim. My dress says I respect myself and my ring says I”m taken. I don’t necessarily feel like I should wear a head wrap 24/7 to be honest. However, with or without it when I carry myself with grace and poise I manage to re-captivate my husband and feel more confident. I feel bad for some women who only follow trends. They pile on tons of make-up and even glue on eyelashes to emulate this materialistic version of femininity that is being sold. I’ve found myself. I’ve found a way to express myself comfortably. I don’t have to be a blank slate with a scarf on to be a modest feminine woman. I don’t have to wear heels a skirt and the latest fashions to feel good. Take a look at my profile picture. That picture was taken two weeks ago. No scarf, no skirt. I’m smiling. I can go wherever I want now and smile.
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