So, I finally did it. I took out my braids and cut my hair. It feels so nice. And, surprisingly enough, Wes (my husband) likes it too. I can stand on my own two feet and am pretty confident that his dislike of my hair wouldn’t’ve changed how I see myself.
Though it may not be a big deal at all I will be honest and say that I am a little nervous about going to work and school tomorrow. I will notice the way that people look at me. I will more than likely assume they are sizing me up and maybe even judging me for the way that my hair looks. When I had my hair super short before, in high school, my older sister told me that I need to make sure to dress feminine and never, ever, EVER wear rainbows. Alhtough I love rainbows and the promise of God that they represent (that He would never flood the earth again) I stayed away. That was then and this is now.
I am preparing myself. And when I begin to feel the least bit self conscious, I will remember that I am wonderfully and fearfully made. I will also remember that poem by Maya Angelou:
Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman.
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman.
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman.
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman.
That’s me.
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
The palm of my hand,
The need for my care.
‘Cause I’m a woman.
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman.
That’s me.
I love this poem. Maya Angelou's poetry is probably some of my favorite's I particularly enjoy Just for a Time (I am to my own shame a romantic). It's great that how you see yourself is only influenced by you, and it is completely independent of others. I think most people really underplay the importance of our body, or if they don't they don't really fully realize it.
ReplyDeleteTo explain my point (since we are talking about poetry) I want to show you a line from one of Walt Whitman's poem it goes:
“I too had been struck from the float forever held in solution; 65
I too had receiv’d identity by my Body;
That I was, I knew was of my body—and what I should be, I knew I should be of my body."
It's from crossing Brooklyn ferry. Now, this line is quite a revolutionary for its time. One would think it would have sparked in the 20th century, but that's not the case. This line of poetry shows with no uncertainty the importance of our body. I'll let you figure out what it means exactly, or rather allow you to make whatever interpretation you wish to make of it. I hope you appreciate it, and that it gives you a little bit more of wisdom.