Les cheveux noirs

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I’ve written before about my struggles as a African-American woman in France, this time around the subject is a little lighter.


Many people of many races take their hair seriously, but I doubt that just as many take their hair as seriously as black people. Or, African-Americans. Being an African-American, I can attest to that fact.

I have a hairdresser I trust with my life, who’s been doing my hair since middle/high school. While I’m not completely lost without her here on the other side of the Atlantic, I have limited experience dealing with my own hair. It was one of many anxieties I had before coming over. Continue reading

The D-Word

Screen Shot 2016-01-31 at 11.17.51Perhaps because my only sibling is an older brother by several years, I spent most of my childhood entertaining myself. Sure, I hung out with other kids in the neighborhood, but when I couldn’t, it was often me, myself and my Barbies.

I believe that this is one of the main reasons I am very comfortable being on my own much of the time. I don’t often seek out my friends (new or old) to hang out with, mostly because I honestly forget that they are an option for entertainment. I forget that they might want to interact with me, as I often don’t have the pressing need to do so with them. We will each other when we see each other.

Continue reading

Bonjour encore

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Place de la Concorde in Paris on New Year’s Eve

I know. I’ve been slipping. I slipped.

My goal was to write this blog semi-regularly and even though I haven’t had the time, I didn’t. Coincidentally, this seems like the perfect time to start up again.

New Year’s is not just a time to—pardon the pun—renew, but it’s also a holiday. Much of the memorable moments I’ve had since my last post have revolved around holidays.

Take Thanksgiving. As I’ve mentioned, I studied in Nice two years ago, so this wasn’t my first Thanksgiving away from my family. That, combined with the fact that it’s not a holiday in France made me less longing for home. Continue reading

Racism like Death

Norman Rockwell’s “The Problem We All Live With”

This past Sunday, I sat in the Evreux cathedral, contemplating.

I anticipated the moment when a woman or man would come down the aisle with a small basket and look me in the eye, waiting for a donation. I, like always, would refuse them.

But why? Why could I not donate even a cent? Why had I never even allowed my(adult)self to do it?

What good reason did I have to deny God my money?

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Building a home

The view from my apartment, of the Gare d'Evreux (the train station).

The view from my apartment, of the Gare d’Evreux (the train station).

Now I myself live in an apartment building, and there is a compassion and acceptance you have to have for a certain level of annoyance. It’s people in close proximity to each other, and so there will be some things that you don’t like, and still have to let go.

Cecil Baldwin, Welcome to Night Vale

There is a freedom to living on your own. A freedom that everyone should enjoy, for at least a little while.

There is something to be said about coming home to a place just as you left it, of being able to put into it exactly what you want, how you want. No permission has to be asked for company, or volume or dirty dishes.

But just because you are not living with someone does not mean you are living alone. An apartment resides in an apartment building made up of other people. Which means, you are still technically sharing. Continue reading