confession o19: fond farewell to a friend
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my name is mahogany.
mahogany like the tree.
now you might be wondering, why does this woman identify as a tree?
well silly billy,
i grew up in a predominately white area and for some reason (even though we know the reason) my name was hard for people to pronounce and spell. even though either ya mama or yo granny has or had a piece of mahogany furniture in their homes.
i went by mo because i wanted to make myself more palatable. so people spelled it “mo” instead of “ma.”
big mistake, but i’ve never been afraid to correct people.
my mama didn’t name be that mmkay!
lol she didn’t name me at all.
whenever teachers or my peers would read my name on the first day of class i would say mahogany, like the tree.
not the wood. it just sounds dumb babe.
get it cause tree and mahogany have have the “e” ending.
right, right.
but what does the tree mean?
well since you asked so politely sugar booger i’ll tell you. the tree refers to my hair.
betcha didn’t think that.
ha!
my hair has been through…a lot. from braids, to relaxers, heat “trained” and damage, protective styles, big chops, more relaxers, more damage, more big chops, and now locs.
who woulda thunk?
i loc’d my hair july 2o22 after a serve eczema flare up during my vacation to florida. i was 19, and stressed tf out hunny bunny.
i made hair content on tiktok which did really well. so well, that some of the girls copied it bar for bar, and kept coming back for more.
muah!
this was my first successful set. the first attempt was the fall of 2o2o, but lack of education got the best of me. i’d always admired them. growing up there was a handful of kids that had them.
it was different.
i like it.
but my journey was different. i think of my hair as a time keeper. it stores all the memories, and emotions. all the failures and success. the pandemic, graduating high school, and next year undergrad. a whole lot of pain, tew many tears, and sleepless nights. all my dreams and goals, wants and needs.
there’s many reasons why i kept them in. one being i used to be the biggest *former* people pleasure in america, but as for the others…
honestly, i didn’t feel like a woman. like i remember being 19 and hating myself. a little less than at 16, but that wasn’t by much.
my body wasn’t attractive, my face wasn’t proportionate, my hair was a charity case, and i didn’t feel feminine. imagine being nasty 19 and the only thing “nasty” about you wasn’t good.
i’m laughing while typing this girl please don’t feel sorry for me.
but seriously, i never fit the beauty standard. and on top of being fat, dark skin, taller than most men with the feet to match, the universe had the audacity to make me have such ambitious goals.
damn you!
it started with my hair. i got tired of relying on people so i got on youtube and learned how to do knotless braids from a lady who was NOT black chile.
😳
needless to say there wasn’t enough representation so i took her knowledge and feed my village.
periontaé!
three years, a lot of growth but more breakage late i’m here.
and i don’t know. i love my locs. this was my first and longest commitment, but i’ve been contemplating combing them out since i started.
not because the girlies on tiktok did. chile this leap year had some black magic in it.
mmm. nasty work.
but because i’m young and my life is always changing, and sometimes i feel the need to change my appearance to match these changes. no ill will between them and I.
just a fond farewell to a friend.
yk.
*update* after doing throurough research i can 85% confirm this will NOT be happening. girl why is hair mousse starting at 15 buckaroos?!? y’all have lots EVERY bit of those minds.
