Au Natural

Good morning. I only have a few scraps of imagery left from last nights dream, the most memorable one being of an older black woman with a whipped milk chocolate complexion, long and kinky silver hair twisted tightly, an illuminating smile that made me rise with one as well, and a statuesque figure that made her strength something that the eyes could see. She had an awe inspiring beauty about her, she was not just a black woman, she was a make-up of everything that makes natural black women so beautiful . There are few things of more pulchritude than the maturation of an au natural black woman. I have become infatuated with well-kept kinky hair; only we can grow it and its exclusiveness makes it more priceless than any stone. From the skin that appears to have been lightly touched by the sun, to those who look to have been embraced by its smothering arms, I love natural black women, regardless what shade of skin they are in, they are so all beautiful. Sultry lips, full hips, an arched back and high-heeled steps in confidence, on them my eyes remain fixed.

I could go on, but my point is so simple, I love, love, LOVE, a natural black woman. However, I must own up to the fact that I have not always felt this way. In fact, my love for natural black beauty only came as a result of an erased ignorance of what beauty is, and where my standard for it was derived. It wasn’t long ago that I, just as many others, found myself more attracted to lighter woman, and infatuated with long straight hair. Of course I did not know why this became “my type” I just knew what I liked. One of the first things I realized when studying sociology, is that there is nothing original about us besides the result of everything we have allowed ourselves to be, and the clay we use to mold ourselves come from our own experiences and environment.

That goes to say, a majority of the clay used to create our perception of what is beautiful comes from the media, which is itself controlled by white men. As mere toddlers we are seated in front of television sets to baby sit us, and from thereon the media pushes into our minds, the idea that black equates to darkness, evil, ugly, while white is pure, untouched, and beautiful. Black is ugly, while white is the standard of beauty, so now we have a prism that shows how close we are to beautiful, all we have to do is match it to our hair and skin tone. So what does the black woman do if it is not quite close enough, If where we she falls on this prism is not acceptable in society? She places chemicals in her hair to make it straight, lightens her face with make-up, strives to lose the curves and thighs, etc. Some of them do every thing in their power to move closer what is the standard of beauty in this society.

Our black women are strong; there is no doubt about that. The history and present state of their struggle has created in them a force to be reckoned with, and I admire that strength. However, there is nothing more sexy than a black woman strong enough to withstand the pressure placed upon them to give up all that makes them uniquely beautiful to conform to what is “more acceptable”. She not only accepts, but embraces her kinky hair, chocolate skin, full lips, and hips. She is not afraid to show strength in her voice and confidence in her steps. She carries herself like a Queen should, and expects nothing less than to be treated as royalty. Her touch inspires hope, comfort, rejuvenation, and her smile sprinkles joy on the most broken of hearts. I love my black women, but I guess I’m in love/infatuated with the natural ones.