Sophia and Stuff

[c4randomacts]

FIRST ACTS: Ayesha Ramsay Pull Tag Knot - Writer and director Ayesha Ramsey explores the complex and often troubled relationship between young black women and their natural afro-textured hair. The short film combines a powerful spoken word poem detailing the pain of styling and pressure to conform to Western beauty ideals. It stars actor and writer Sophia Leonie.

[sophiaandstuff]

#Liberated

When I was 14 I grew big breasts. As they were developing, I hated them. I hated how my T shirt was starting to look. I'd actually avoid looking at them in the bath. They were alien like things on me and I detested them. That was, until I was 14. Suddenly they were bigger than most. Although I was always covered up, adult males would routinely try to talk to me in the street; I had male admirers for the first time in my life; teenage boys would stare at my breasts instead of my face. I realised at this point, that they were powerful and I kinda liked that. But when one summer's afternoon that year, a teenage friend that I had grown up with, pushed me into the enclosed entrance of a block of flats and pinned me against the wall whilst he roughly groped my breasts, as I screamed, writhed, twisted and turned, as his hands ran up and down desperately all over my body, I no longer felt empowered. It lasted a few seconds but felt like forever. He said sorry and we never spoke of it again. But I will never forget the fact I could not stop him and that his physical strength against mine was unmatched. No, I was not wearing something provocative; no, I had not lead him on; I was just playing in park in the flats where I lived, with people I had known my whole life. Breasts, growing into a woman it seemed - meant your body no longer really belonged to you. So when, this week Kim Kardashian posted two naked selfies, one with the caption #liberated, I wondered if she was taking ownership of her grown body and her right to be a sexual woman or if she was simply positioning herself as a sex object. Who was really liberated here? I didn't rush to criticise her. Millions of people love her body and through this she is liberated. We can all relate to the feeling of liking that people like something about us. It's a good, healthy feeling. Plus, let's not forget, despite what society may have you think - her body is her own and what she chooses to do with it is her choice. Being proud of your body in a world that constantly criticises women's appearances is admirable. However, the problem is that patriarchy dictated the 'rules' of 'sexy'. And so is fitting into that narrow box (naturally or surgically) liberating? If and when you don't have big breasts, a fat ass and flat stomach, would your naked selfie then be considered 'liberating'? In a perhaps surprising supportive act of sister solidarity this week, Amber Rose criticised pop star Pink who had criticised Kim, posting: 'Damn Pink we are all born naked, society sexualises our breasts and bodies'. Yes, but the problem is, Kim is a clever media business brained woman - she knows her selfies are sexual - and she makes money off exactly this. Maybe that's what is liberating then; taking ownership and profiting from an ideology used to oppress you - Kim K's tweet to haters suggest that she thinks so: 'Sorry I'm late to the party guys I was busy cashing my 80 million video game check and transferring 53 million into our joint account'. I'm not sure that attitude helps the rest of us. I'm sure many 14 year old girls around the world are practising their naked selfie in the hopes of becoming a millionaire too. Maybe they are learning to love their changing body and that's no bad thing - but in the meantime more 14 year old boys are deciding they have a right to more and more of these naked female bodies. The idea of consent gets muddied. This scares me - we are a long way from '96 when all my teenage 'friend' was watching was cable TV music channels. With the Internet, social media and the availability of porn, we risk teens today (the adults of tomorrow),developing an unhealthy, even more dangerous attitude towards women's bodies. I have learned to love body again over the years, but like most women, the relationship has been a rocky one. Certainly our bodies are amazing but in a world that defines women by our body and sexuality, using our mind, talents and abilities to achieve success is what is truly liberating, no? I do understand that we don't live in a bubble and being viewed as a sex object may actually feel confidence boosting, flattering and may even be profitable for a few. But #nakedselfie within the context of society today, is probably more damaging, than ever truly #liberating.

[sophiaandstuff]

Hacks Hearts and Lies

"What's going on?" "You know what's going on" I looked from him to her. Her to him. I had given him a get out clause and had just thrown it back in my face. My nightmare was real. It was over. I was 17. He was 22. She was in the year below me at school. I couldn't move. I tried to talk, I couldn't. My friend led me out of his hostel. I was heartbroken. I was reminded of that fateful day yesterday when the hackers of controversial site AshleyMadison.com released the identities, email addresses and sexual preference details of some 37 million people, mainly men, who have signed up to the site which encourages married users to have an affair. I thought of the millions of women forced to confront the truth that their partner was not the man they thought he was. Forced to feel that punch in the pit of the stomach. That shock. That humiliation. As solicitors across the country get ready for the influx of divorce petitions, I wonder, does an affair, or a desire to indulge in one, have to spell the end of a relationship? Why do so many men cheat? And what is the answer then, to maintaining a long lasting healthy relationship? To most of us, a relationship is a voluntary agreement between two people to love, be intimate with and respect one another. A marriage is of course when this agreement is legalised, but either way, couples choose this relationship model and my gut feeling is that if you chose it, stick to it. Or if not, leave. It's simple. I fully understand that the honeymoon period wains, the sex may decrease. I fully understand that people find other people attractive and that's totally natural. I get that over time crushes on others may develop and I understand that flirting occurs - it's a nice ego boost to know someone else fancies you! It's all harmless. Or should be. This is where the line should be drawn. If you go beyond this, you're putting your selfish desire before someone you 'love' and that means you have to be prepared for that relationship, that 'love', to end. If you chose to cheat, you are effectively gambling something precious away. The gamble can be fatal for the relationship or it can pay off. Let's face it, there's a chance the woman won't ever know and even if she does, if it's a one one off discretion, there's a chance it may be forgiven - most outed cheaters cling onto this scenario. But I can understand a woman's choice here. Sometimes a longterm, invested relationship means more than their partners impulsive one night stand. There is no right and wrong. So I can understand the need to cheat, I can understand I woman's choice to stay and work it through. What I cannot understand so well is someone who goes online, creates a profile, pays money on a credit card and actively seeks out to not only cheat, but engage in a prolonged and premeditated 'affair'. This seems so much worse. Maybe I feel this strongly about affairs because I have never had an affair or cheated - not through lack of opportunity may I add - but because I just have never wanted do that to someone I love. So that's why it hurt so much when I was 17 and realised my first love was a selfish cheating liar. I couldn't get out of bed and I cried for months. I couldn't understand how someone I was so close to could be so unbelievably horrible to me. I did of course get over it and learn from it. I hardened at first, I even went out with a guy with a girlfriend to prove I didn't care about love, to prove that whole thing was bullshit to me. But eventually I met someone and fell in love again. I think even now, in my current relationship, as much as I love my partner, I will never fully trust another human being like I used to. I wonder, are men are naturally predisposed to cheating and is that just the way it is? Do I have to reluctantly conclude that my loving boyfriend will one day join the ranks of those before him and hurt me and deceive me? Only now I'm not 17. I'm at an age when I'm making big life decisions about children, marriage, mortgages. Will it inevitably all end in disaster because men will have to eventually cheat? In the article 'Top 3 Reasons Why Men Cheat' from practicalhappiness.com, suggests so, saying that 'Most men are driven by a powerful natural force to seek novelty and variety when it comes to sexual partners... The desire to be liked and attract women is one of the most significant ways through which men are able to validate their masculinity'. Erm, is that not just an excuse to normalise sexist 'boys will be boys' behaviour? Saying that naturally men 'need variety' is the interest of one gender at the detriment to the other. So men must find a variety of women to be fulfilled whilst women must happily sit at home raising children waiting for their hubby to return? This view discounts responsibility and the ability to care for another human being's feelings. Qualities that all men are actually capable of (and would exhibit a lot more if we stopped this 'boys will be boys' culture). No, I believe women get the same desires that men also get, but the only difference is men are encouraged by society to celebrate their sexuality, to 'conquer' multiple women and so they act on these desires at lot more. So what's the solution? Forcing people to stay in unfulfilled sexually frustrated relationships? No. Perhaps it's monogamy that needs to end? Maybe it's time we normalised open relationships, where both the man and woman openly have sex with others when they have the desire to do so? Dr Anderson, sociologist at The University of Winchester and author of The Monogamy Gap: Men, Love, and the Reality of Cheating (Oxford University Press) claims monogamy isn't the only "proper" way to be in a relationship, and it's time that society finds "multiple forms of acceptable sexual relationship types including sexually open relationships.. that coexist without hierarchy or hegemony." Sounds like the answer to the inequality that exists in many relationships, but the question is, can this actually work? Wouldn't jealously naturally play a part? In a recent Cosmopolitan article 'What it's Really Like to be in an Open Relationship', journalist Emma Barker interviewed 2 women in open relationships who were both very positive about their lifestyle choice, citing honesty as one of pros of such a relationship. Woman A says the success is being 'Open and forthcoming about everything you are thinking and feeling'. She says 'Jealousy often comes when you suspect something is going on in your loved one's head that they're not telling you'. Makes sense. Isn't it the lies and deceitful behaviour in cheating that hurts the most? Woman B commented that 'I feel very free to be who I am, and after feeling so stifled in my marriage it's refreshing to feel like I can explore and enjoy life again'. It certainly sounds liberating. But for me I personally, I love that bond that you grow with that one person in a relationship - it is so special and intimate. I'm not sure multiple relationships or lovers would allow that bond to exist in the same way. Maybe it's just the way we think about monogamous relationships that need to change, not the actual idea of two people being faithful. Maybe we need to all stop trying to chase the honeymoon period buzz that will inevitably end. Dr Anderson says: 'We falsely believe that when the sex dies, the relationship has also died. The reality is the opposite; when the sex dies the relationship has just begun'. I get that. You get to know that person like no one else does, you get to love that person on a much deeper level. But unlike Dr Anderson, I don't agree that the sex should have to die. It should become more intimate, more meaningful, more connected. Better. And if not, work on making it so, like you would any other important thing you want in life. So I have no sympathy for those men whose names pop up on the hacked AshleyMadison.com email list. They chose the easy route, didn't want to work on what they had and now they have to face the consequences. Some women will leave them; just as some will choose stay and work through it. But I feel for each and every one who find their partner's email address on there, or is approached by their hubby for an awkward conversation. Because as all women who have ever been on the receiving end of infidelity know, it's not the desire to want someone else sexually that's hurtful, that's natural, it's the choice to act on it and deceive. I'm no expert, but I'm going to be hopeful - the secret to a long healthy relationship is far from simple but let's start here: communication - work on things by listening to what another needs; intimacy - sexual intimacy and emotional intimacy on both sides and most of all, honesty - whether that's in the form of monogamy, or not.

[sophiaandstuff]

New website live

New website where you can catch all my blogs in one place! SophiandStuff.com

[sophiaandstuff]

Fascinating exhibition at the V&A museum at the moment. An exhibition of stunning shoes worn throughout the years. How they are used to show wealth and status but also how they are used to oppress and control women. Beautiful but very disturbing stuff... #V&A #shoes #pleasureandpain #education #entertainment (at V&A museum)

[sophiaandstuff]

Tolerance for the Intolerant

Curled up on the sofa, my stomach does knots, I've already taken 4 Imodium today, had 10 toilet visits. It's 9am. A wave of nausea washes over me. I shut my eyes, squeeze them tight. I think I'm going to throw up. "Are you alright there babe?", "Fine" I reply. I'm not. But it's been worse, a lot worse, and I know it will pass in a few hours. It's like this at least once or twice a week and has been for the past two years. The doctors say there's nothing they can do and so, me and up to 3 million others in the UK are left to fight the silent battle of IBS alone. It's a general term, that means your digestive system doesn't process food normally. The type of food, the amount of food, the combination of foods can change daily. There's no exact science at all. For me, I can't eat dairy anymore at all - no more cheese, no cake, not even one tiny chocolate. A low FODMAP diet (which I did under hospital guidance and supervision) revealed that I'm 'sensitive,' to gluten, raw onions, beans, apples, pineapples, berries, spinach, broccoli and the seasoning MSG ( there's probably more, but even I find it hard to keep up!). Yes, sensitive' is such loose term, and many people like Jeferry Gluger, Time magazine journalist, are sceptical. In his article 'Eat More Gluten: The Diet Fad Must Die', he scolds the 'free from' food trend, claiming it is " flat-out hooey, a result of trendiness, smart marketing, Internet gossip and too many people who know too little about nutrition saying too many silly things". Ouch. I'm the first to admit there's little rhyme or reason when my body it decides it is not happy today, but one things for sure, these intolerances are real and painful, and are definitely are no fad. As 3.9 million people in the UK who suffer from IBS will tell you, this shit (excuse the pun), is real. The thing is, it's embarrassing, so we don't talk about it unless suddenly we are in a situation where we might have to eat food that will hurt us. It's like secret club - you wouldn't know someone has stomach issues unless you suffer too, and then can spot the signs: cancelling on meal out when you find out the restaurant is Italian (not fun for the gluten or lactose intolerant); asking for the allergy menu causing the waiter to panic as they try to dig it out, or even better, roll their eyes and say 'oh, you're one of those'; seeing someone order a (safe) salad when you know they're hungry; asking for the vegan option when you know they ate meat last week or even hearing that someone is off sick today when they seemed fine yesterday. I get it, this is irritating - fussy eaters especially really used to annoy me. 'I don't like veg', 'I can't do spicy food', I used to be like, shut up and eat - food is nice, learn to enjoy it! But now I realise food is such a personal thing, it's not just about taste and even being sociable, for me and over 3 million of us, it directly dictates what happens to our bodies and our ability to function. It's not all bad though, the whole experience has taught me a lot. I've learnt to cook new things, discovered new ingredients, and come to conclusion that cooking is creative and I actually quite like it (well, I'm learning so don't ask to come round for dinner just yet!). Most importantly, I realised I can change habits in a way I never imagined. If someone had said 3 years ago 'Soph, give up dairy completely tomorrow', I would have said 'Not possible'. I LOVED cheese, pastries, milkshake, chocolate, crisps and cake. But I did it. I quickly learnt that hours of agony just weren't worth the chocolate biscuit. These days, when people order dessert, I no longer even crave it. But I do wish this backlash against people with food intolerances would stop. Maybe some people do it to be 'on trend', but so what? Most of us don't. Most of us just want to eat food that won't hurt us. Most of us do want to go out for dinner and be sociable; most of us don't want to annoy the waiter or chef by asking for special attention; most of us don't want to leave the restaurant early because we can feel our belly bubbling and the sounds are getting too loud. Most of us don't want to be curled up in the sofa on a Sunday morning wishing we didn't eat two bread rolls yesterday. Most of us, 3.1 million of us, just want to be pain free.

[sophiaandstuff]

New blog post up on the new site. A must read for those, like me, who suffer from food issues. (Link in bio) #dairyfree #glutenfree #vegan #ibs #freefrom #dietryrequirements #lactoseintolerance #fodmapdiet #stomachproblems #allergymenu #foodallergies #foodallergy #blogger #blog #debate #food #health #body

[sophiaandstuff]

Music for my journey home today. Forgot how groundbreaking this album was. As a teenager I just thought it was hilarious. As a grown woman listening in today's world it's glaringly obvious that we need more women like this - think what you will of her -but this album was without a doubt daring and feminist, offering a strong counter culture message on female sexuality. Salute Lil Kim. #hardcore #lilkim #feminist #femalesexuality #groundbreaking #music #hiphop #femalerapper #rap #culture #misogyny #empowerment

[sophiaandstuff]

Trans-identity

So last week we found out that Rachel Dolezal pretended that she was black for 10 years and now claims to actually be black and identifies as ‘transracial’. A few weeks before, Bruce Jenner claimed that he’s now a woman, Caitlin, and identifies as transgender. Yes – I’m comparing them both. Not to be cruel, or to lack sympathy to clearly sensitive issues, but because it interests me that we are living in a world where you are born with one identity and then through your life you can leave that identity behind – even seemingly fixed attributes like gender and race - and become someone new. In a world that still discriminates against factors we’re born with such, as race, gender, sexuality and class, are we moving towards a new trans-identity society? And is this progress? To be able to turn your back on a seemingly pre-defined destiny and carve out your own identity and journey must be a good thing right? Well, no. Let me explain: Yes, I believe in finding your own path and abandoning traditional fixed identities, but I fundamentally don’t think you can change either race or gender – so this can’t be what’s happening here. Biologically, your gender and racial ancestry are what they are. It is society that gives meaning to the concepts of race and gender. Women should be soft, nurturing, domestic and visually ‘attractive’, is what society routinely tells us, while men should be aggressive, practical and ‘wise’. So doesn’t it stand to reason that if a man ‘feels’ like a woman, then perhaps he just feels like being feminine? We need to seriously address the idea that femininity equals the female gender and masculinity equals the male gender. A man can be feminine and a woman can be masculine – and society needs to accept that idea – that’s what I believe needs to change – not the actual person’s physicality. As Julie Bindel, a freelance feminist writer said when commenting on gender reassignment surgery - It is just “an attempt to keep gender stereotypes intact”. Gender reassignment surgery, hormones, and plastic surgery. All part of the endless struggle to look the part and fit into the right gender stereotype box or as Jenner said, to fix the outer to ‘match’ the inner. However, a Guardian survey in 2004 claimed that up to 20% of patients who go through gender reassignment surgery regret changing sex. The report ‘Injustice at every turn: A report of the National Transgender Discrimination survey’ reports that a massive 41% of transgenders (including pre – and post op patients) have attempted suicide. The thing is: tits, a made up face and dresses with heels don’t make a woman, and so I’m not surprised many people feel disillusioned with the results. Being a woman of course, is more than her outer appearance. There is a history and experiences of being the marginalised group which someone can of course learn about, study and empathise with – but will never actually experience in the same way. If you reduce it to anything less, is it not gender appropriation? Similarly, a tan and kinky hair doesn’t make a person black, nor does a deep empathy with black people and interest in black culture. There is a level of experience Dolezal cannot really know of – simply because, like Jenner, she chose to change her identity. That, in itself is a privilege that women, black people or anybody from any other minority or marginalised group, don’t have. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE the fact Dolezal chose a marginalised racial group to affiliate with. I love the fact that with all the privileges that being a white women entails, she chose to forgo it all and align with black women and help black causes – it’s just, it doesn’t make her black. Just an ally, and that’s no bad thing. Somehow I don’t feel Jenner or Caitlin, is an ally to other women, to poorer women, or those whose world he lives a million miles away from - but I hope I’m wrong. I can’t help but wonder if Jenner would be so keen to be a woman if he didn’t live a VIP lifestyle in LA and couldn’t afford surgery that allowed him to create Caitlyn with her glamorous designer wardrobe. But perhaps I am being too harsh. Feeling as though you were born into the wrong body is no doubt a difficult and challenging thing to deal with. And we can’t just ‘change society’ and so, the onus is on the individual to change and ‘fit in’ where he or she feels most comfortable. My point, I guess is that whilst we commend those individuals for their bravery, maybe it’s just as brave, if not more brave to stand as who you are, in your own skin and body and tell the world ‘This is me’. ‘I’m a man and I am soft and feminine too’, ‘I’m a white woman, I wear an afro, and condemn racism’. Now, that would be progress.

[sophiaandstuff]

Sad Saturday

Wow what a week. It is in a very deflated state I lie on my sofa this Saturday morning munching Oreos. Quite a contrast to earlier in the week when I was literally buzzing around, urging people to vote, excited about possible change. Now it’s like- oh, you voted (well 66 percent of you of you did). And you voted to keep them in. I can barely raise my head above the covers - how utterly depressing.

My genuine disappointment is partly realising the bubble of views on my social media feeds, family and liberal friends, artists, teachers - are just that: my little bubble. What this election has taught me is that most of the country (bar most of London) just don’t feel the same way.

Most of the country are fuelled by fear. Fear from the rich and upper /middle class of losing their wealth; fear from the lower classes of things getting worse - and the blaming of this on immigration. They really believe what the rightwing press tell them - having no real idea of the real reasons and context behind why they are struggling. In an age when we foolishly believed the internet and new-media promoted a new kind of citizen gate-keeping and democracy, we realise the right wing traditional press, even in 2015, do hold the power and influence.

So I’m delflated. I urged people to vote and I can already feel the new wave of apathy rise over people. It’s even trying to engulf me. I didn’t think Labour would be that different - but they would be a kinder, more moderate and less painful government. There are people in the Labour government like my local MP Jeremy Corbyn, who I’ve dealt with personally, that really do have compassion, that care, that dedicate their life to helping the less fortunate. So that’s why I can’t be apathetic. I know that politics, with the right people in charge, can make a difference.

So what now? There’s a tough 5 years ahead with cuts to all essential public services. As Russell Brand said: we need to make sure we are as kind to each-other as possible cos there will be a lot of meanness in the next 5 years. But unlike Brand, I’m not regretting my vote, or dismissing politics just yet.

I just read an article about a possible candidate - a 35 mixed race man from Peckham: Chuka Umunna - and it got me excited again: (http://www.gqmagazine.co.uk/comment/articles/2014-10/14/alastair-campbell-chuka-umunna-labour-mp-interview) It’s clear that Labour have a lot to consider if they’re going to be in power again. Do they need to be more tough and right wing to take the votes from the conservatives and Ukip voters? Or move more traditionally left to take back those votes from people looking towards Green for answers? Do they really just need a more charming attractive and relatable leader (see above) to win? I don’t know, but I’m not lying around moping anymore. I’ll stay engaged and keep aware of what’s going on, keep questioning the press (and urge my students to do the same), keep campaigning for causes I believe in and do what I can where I can. So, Soph, covers off, Oreos away, be tough and ready to face the day (and the next 5 years). Ok, one more Oreo…

[sophiaandstuff]

Cake and Tears

So today I baked a cake. As someone who can’t cook, LOVES cake and is dairy intolerant, that is a big deal. So feeling productive and positive, I also thought I’d update the blog. It’s been a while. The truth is, I’ve struggled to write as my mind keeps going back to only one thing, and didn’t want to write about that thing because, well, I feel social media posts should be inspiring and uplifting and this, well, isn’t. But if I’m going to write about anything else, I decided, I need to get this out first. And more importantly, people who are going through the same thing might read it and be able to identify or make sense of their own feelings.

In the first week of December I lost my dad. He died in a fire, in a far away place. Zimbabwe. The UK home office was refusing to acknowledge his (over 30) citizenship in the UK. A place he studied, lived, worked, taught in schools and paid taxes for almost all of his entire life. So, unexpectedly, undignified he died abroad and largely alone. I got a text message as I was dismissing my period 3 year 10 class.

That moment and the days that followed were a blur. I was numb - zombie-ish. I couldn’t form full sentences, I didn’t know who to call, what to say, what to do next. So I didn’t answer the phone, refused to open the door or talk to anyone. This was something I’d never experienced before. Full blown, heart aching grief. No sleep, this pain in the pit of your stomach, non stop tears, thoughts of regret, hopelessness, darkness.

Then simultaneously, the world launched full throttle into Christmas party season. Everyone so excited and happy. The insult was relentless. And I tried to take part and not be Scrooge and for a while I probably seemed normal. There were conversations, smiles and drinks and food but the whole time I secretly carried this heaviness, like a constant sadness looming over me. Eventually it’d get too much and it’d take all my strength just not to cry and so I’d just be silent, desperately trying to stay composed and normal. So I stayed away from a few of the normal festivities, especially situations where you had to talk. How was I? Did I have a nice Xmas day? Was I back to work soon? Or worse- how are you coping? How was the memorial? It hurt to answer every single one of those questions.

To avoid more of this I went out raving Boxing Day. It was a last minute decision and just what I needed. Inside the loud music, the dancing, drinking, was all a welcome relief. The next day, however, was bad. I was hungover, but not just that - I was just sad, really, really sad. Deflated and emotional I lay on the sofa with the TV off all day.

I dreaded New Year’s Eve. Everyone was asking what I was gonna do to celebrate. ‘Celebrate?’ I thought, ‘have you forgotten?’ Celebrate?! How could I celebrate a new year - a new year without my dad? I desperately wanted time to stay still. Pause please, I begged God. It was like a conveyer belt I was trapped on and I couldn’t stop it. We were leaving him in 2014.

The new year came, and I slowly picked myself up and faced the world. I have gone back to work, kept busy with auditions, and tried to see as many friends as possible. My theory is, if I’m busy I’m ok - and that’s how I function. The truth I know deep down is, I’m not OK yet, I’m sad most days but I don’t have time to embrace those feelings and I prefer it like that. Maybe that’s progress, I don’t know.

The advice is mixed. Be strong, don’t be sad, go out tonight, have a drink! is the attitude of half my friends. The other half say take time to yourself, cry as much as you need, don’t ignore your feelings. Then there’s a few who look at you awkwardly and don’t ever mention it. I literally don’t know what’s the ‘right’ thing to do. In 1969 Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Outlined the 5 stages of grief as: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But I haven’t experienced it fully that way, or in that order, it’s more like waves of the first 4, that come and go, soft and sometimes hard. I’m not even sure if I even want 5 to hit. Acceptance is like closure, and I don’t want it to be ok that he died the way he did. I don’t want closure.

So these past few months have been the strangest ever but I’ve learnt a lot, especially about myself and what strength I have. I’ve also learnt loads of people have been through a similar experience. I’ve learnt many people want to help - although many just don’t know how. I’ve learnt temporary fixes don’t work, but keeping busy and purposeful does seem to. I’ve learnt that there are no stages and rules in this experience; grief is as unique as each relationship that you’re mourning. And finally I’ve learnt that old cliché to take each day at a time, really is true. Today I baked a cake. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. And that’s progress.

[sophiaandstuff]

To Weave Or Not To Weave

From the sublimely gorgeous to absolutely awful, weave can certainly transform a woman’s looks. Some love it, some loathe it, but no one can deny the popularity of the style in recent times. Research from market researchers Mintel, suggests that black women are even turning their back on the relaxer. According to their findings, the sale of relaxer dropped over $50 million in the US, in the past five years. 6 out of 10 customers, according to Mintel’s research, now “wear a wig, weave or extensions”.  Girls I teach, as young as 13 or 14, are even sporting the sew-in or more worryingly the DIY glue-in. The question has to be asked: is it a valid way to protect the hair from the dreaded relaxer or daily GHD damage? Or is actually time to ditch the weave trend? By wearing it, are we just reinforcing a western ideal of beauty?

I discovered weave about 7 years ago. It was a welcomed solution to help me grow my broken, brittle hair. Having always had long, thick curly dark hair, I never thought that would be me. But in my early 20’s I wanted a change.  I decided to take the baby step into hairstyling by getting my virgin black locks dyed to a honey brown colour. Walking out of the salon, I loved the light brown tints the way it looked blonde in the sunlight.  Also, I had been given a blunt straight fringe -  I looked like a new me – all grown up and sophisticated.  

After a few weeks I realised this new look was a lot of work. Straightening it every day to get that fringe perfect and smooth took its toll and low and behold, as mum had warned me, my hair started to break. A few months later my once lovely long hair was now struggling to meet the top of my shoulders and instead of a sleek fringe, a grown-out jagged mess framed my face. A friend suggested I try weave as a protective style. Me? Weave? No! I laughed it off. But as my hair started to frame my chin I started to consider it. “Become a weave hair model for me” she suggested. She pitched it well. I’d get long hair again, my hair would be protected, I just had to take a few ‘before and after’ shots - and to top it all off, it would be cost absolutely nothing. Apprehensively, I said yes.

No. I did not like it. It felt so strange at first, bulky and well, unnatural. I was sure it looked like a wig. Glumly I came home that evening. I had resolved to take it out as soon as the hairdresser’s photo-shoot was over the day after next.  Walking through the door my flatmate stared at me in awe:  ‘I love it!’ she exclaimed jumping up from the sofa.

And so, I agreed to keep it for the week. After a few days I got used to the feel. I realise the bulkiness was just my imagination. I actually really liked it, and soon, I loved it too. I loved waking up and my hair was basically done! I loved the fact it looked so real – I always had my edges out to blend seamlessly -  and as I had always had long hair no one suspected it wasn’t my own hair. I loved the shine, I loved the gloss, the length, the colour. I loved it. I was fully converted. It was glamour every day.

Each time I took it out I noticed that my own hair had grown, just as my hairdresser friend had advised. Soon my natural hair was back to my shoulders and then next time I took it out it was down my back. But I didn’t want to stop the weave. I couldn’t stop. Even though the length was there, the texture was different. Mine was coarse – I had to battle with it to keep it straight, It just didn’t look… right. It didn’t even matter that now I was no longer the weave model and each 3 monthly session cost over £200, it was worth it. Looking good was worth it.  I was addicted to the weave.  

Then unexpectedly my hairdresser went away. I had seen so many bad weaves – tracks showing, bulky heads, bad colour matching, no, no – I wasn’t about to trust anyone else. I waited. Then she got sick. So I waited longer. In the meantime I was forced to work with my own hair again. It was a strange relationship – it had been 7 years of back-to-back weaves. My hair didn’t like me and I didn’t like it. But gradually, over-time I got used to it; I grew to quite like the frizzy curly texture – after all, not everyone had hair like mine. I did the no heat challenge embracing my curls; bought protective spray and straightened my own hair safely - I loved putting my hands through my hair; tying it up in a top-knot or high pony-tail – all things I was denied with the weave.

These days I look back at my obsession with curiosity. Was I so ashamed of my own African / mixed-race texture that I thought it perfectly okay to disguise as European it for so long? When I think back to the 1960’s and 1970’s when hair styles like the afro were a political statement; when ordinary people – black people -  were actually political, I feel a bit queasy about where we are right now.

But it’s just fashion, I hear you say. And yes it is, and yes it can look gorgeous. But there’s something about all races needing to look as European as possible and not questioning the ideology behind this that makes me makes me uncomfortable. Long, shiny straight hair was easier for me to manage and I enjoyed the difference from my own. But when that hair type becomes the ‘norm’, when that’s all you see on the TV, in magazines, or online. When all the of images of aspirational women – white and black, have straight, European hair like this, you can’t help but think that anything else is abnormal, strange or even wrong. Where are our images of afros? Of curly frizzy hair? Plaits and twists? Because many of us just aren’t born with straight, shiny hair that can grow down our backs – and we need to be reminded sometimes that it’s okay. That different hair,  hair like ours, can be beautiful too. 

That’s not to say I haven’t worn weave since. I have – I love it for holiday – it’s easier to manage, for a premiere or party - it can give that glam look, or perfect for when just you fancy a change. But these days there’s a healthy balance. This year has been mainly weave-free, sometimes I’ve gone for naturally curly or most commonly, I get a Keratin blow dry and straighten my own hair (because manageability is important to me). So I’m not anti-weave. I live in the real world and do understand it can be wonderful; it’s certainly really helpful in growing natural hair. And there is the pressure that all women face look ‘good’; to conform to what’s ‘fashionable’ and ‘attractive’.  So I’m not trying to make you feel guilty here– we as women are judged way too much on our appearance as it is, and no-one wants to be told after all the effort we put in, we’re doing it ‘wrong’.  But I will say I do love my own, natural, hair now and that’s a really nice, refreshing feeling. So,  I encourage you all, if you are addicted like I was, to take out the sew-in and meet up with your old friend – your natural hair - for a little while. It will be tricky at first but do persevere, you may just fall in love. 

[sophiaandstuff]

The perfect holiday read. Just finished #Americanah by Chimanda Ngozi Adchie. A heartfelt love story observing the differences of being 'black' in the US, UK and in Africa. Bold, important and touching. #wordsmakechange #readingopensminds #teaandabook #myfavouritekindaday

[sophiaandstuff]

“You better get a move on”

Lying in bed the other day, me and my boyfriend talked enthusiastically about where we’d like to be in the future. Countries were mentioned; another trip to Dubai, New York perhaps? Southeast Asia would be exciting. He wants to travel for work, spend some time recording music in Jamaica, me visit in LA for a while. Career ambitions were discussed, then our next home. At not one point did children come into the conversation. Not because we haven’t been together very long (it’s been ten years) not because we wouldn’t make good parents (I adore children, he’s a brilliant uncle) or even because we couldn’t afford to raise a family (our combined income means sacrifices would have to made but we could probably raise a child comfortably) but children were not mentioned because we solely do not want them. Not right now. And I couldn’t even tell you when. It’s just not in the plans.

“It’s the best thing you could ever do”, “You’ll never understand real love until you’ve had a child”. Some of the many comments I hear from my mother and friends with children, who are all seriously concerned that as a woman in my 30s now, I “need to get a move on”. “It completely changes your perspective on life” my mother implores me. I believe you all, but the thing is, I don’t want my life to change – I quite like my life now. I love my partner; I don’t want to change the dynamics of our relationship.   Recently a friend explained how her and her partner are now a ‘family’ as opposed to in a relationship or a ‘couple’. This scares me. I see women I know suddenly becoming obsessed baby beings. Their Facebook profile picture is their child, all their updates are about their child, they talk about their child in inappropriate places like the club. This, too, scares me. 

But what scares me most is the fact that everything would stop. I want to continue moving up in my career. As trivial as it sounds, I even want to go for dinner and drinks spontaneously  -  when I just feel like it.  Why should all of this ‘life stuff’ stop when I’m at the point in my life where I feel the most confident, the most sexy, when I’m finally en route to getting where I want to be in life? Sometimes I feel like I’m in the Emperor with No Clothes – I want to shout ‘Can’t we all see that life seems so much more fun and the possibilities boundless without children?’  

The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development recently found that one in five women in Britain had not had a baby by the end of her child baring years. A recent article in Grazia highlighted this and interviewed 3 women in their 30s and 40s who explained why they didn’t have children and unsurprisingly, finance and career ambition was a big reason. Charley Desborough, 33, a singer – songwriter, commented that if she were to have children ‘the sensible thing would be to change my job, but giving up on your dreams is not a lesson I want to teach my child’. I fully identify with that. I’d be so unhappy and quite frankly, resentful, if there was no prospect of ever achieving the goals I have worked so hard for. As Kim Willis, 31, a writer, also argues in the article: ‘Parenthood is too huge a responsibly to be given to the ambivalent’. That’s just my point. You don’t have to do it anymore. As women of the 21st century in the UK we have a choice.

It wasn’t until 1974 that contraception was available free and to all women regardless of age and marital status in the UK. Not to ignore the fact that in many areas in the world today when women reach their teens (or if they’re lucky their 20s), they are expected to marry and to have children - having very little control over their destiny let alone contraception. Just think about the 200 plus girls who were kidnapped from their school in northern Nigeria. Boko Harem, the kidnappers - a Muslim extremist group against western education - passionately believe that women are only good for being wives and bearing children.

I’m not trying to say women in the UK should avoid domesticity and child bearing in some kind of protest, but I want to highlight that we are lucky that we have a choice.  In fact you could say that we have a responsibility not to bring any more unwanted children into the world. Children are wonderful, inspiring creatures. I adore my god-daughter, my nieces, nephews and cousins. I care deeply for the many children that I teach. But I am happy to say goodbye at the end of the day.  For those who want their own full-time, I applaud you. It certainly looks hard work but as I’m told, totally worth it.  One day that may be me, and I may fully understand what that means. But for now, I love my life as it is. I am thankful I have a choice. And so, I’m making it. 

[sophiaandstuff]

Boxes and Mixed Race Problems

Boxes Mixed Race Problems

“Oh” the hairdresser paused “Your hair is very curly”. “Yes” I gritted my teeth, water dripping down my neck “I said it was”. The consultation earlier that week, it seemed, had meant nothing. “It’s OK” she went on “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage”. Trapped in the chair, too far in this to go back, I feigned a tight smile. “So where are you from?” She went on “You look…different…” And so it started. Questions about my heritage; questions about Africa, then of course Jamaica; “Can I tell the where people are from by their appearance?” Comments on my hair “It’s actually quite nice”, “Do I ever wear an Afro?” comments on my features “Your lips are black but your nose is more white…” laced with the occasional “how exotic”. It was exhausting. As I left the salon that evening with a more than satisfactory keratin blow dry, I was annoyed. Not just because I had described my hair type before I had arrived; not just because I had been asked personal questions during a long day when I really didn’t feel like answering; but because I had left work excited about the little ‘me time’ I had managed to squeeze in my busy day and was then confronted this. Their ignorance was a slap in the face. I was again ‘The Other’. Reminded that I was different.                          With over a million people in the UK now being identified as mixed race, according to the 2011 census, it’s important to ask what impact this is this having on British culture. Are we finally becoming a country that fully embraces different races? I would argue perhaps not. Instead we seem to be celebrating multiculturalism whilst at the same time ignoring the fact that we are still putting people into boxes based on their race. And it’s these boxes which highlight our hidden prejudices. In 2012, research by British Future hastily claims that ‘The Jessica Ennis generation can stake a strong claim to have won the race against prejudice’. The report ‘The Melting Pot Generation – How Britain Became More Relaxed About Race’ discussed that in the mid 1980s 50% of the public were opposed to mixed race marriages with 40% opposed in the 1990s. British Future’s poll in 2012 showed opposition to mixed race marriages was down to 15%. Yes, this does suggest attitudes to mixed relationship have improved, but it let’s not pretend that it means people don’t hold prejudice views anymore. Joseph Harker in his Guardian article ‘Beware this new mixed-race love-in’ laughs at the concept that racism has been eradicated just because of the rising number of mixed race relationships. Harking back to slavery and master-slave girl relationships, he claims ‘what people do in the bedroom is completely separate from what they do in the outside world’. It reminds me of a recent trip to Las Vegas when a random man at a bar presented me with the amazing news that he’s ‘into black girls you know’. Thanks. I’ll just jump on you now then. I for one, don’t see progress in the fact I may fulfil your brown girl fetish. While I do agree that society is much more open to mixed relationships now, it doesn’t mean ideas about racial hierarchies have disappeared.

A study carried out by Dr Michael Lewis and colleagues from Cardiff University’s School of Psychology, found that mixed race was now considered the most ‘attractive’ race. While I embrace our acceptance into British culture, and can understand the ‘best of both races’ idea, I question whether these results are to be celebrated. Don’t they suggest we are still obsessed with the idea that when it comes to black people, lighter skin is more desirable?

The sexualisation of mixed race or light skinned black females in the media may have something to do with why the public have chosen these faces as ‘attractive’.  As a teenager I became acutely aware when we first got The Box and MTV, that mixed race was considered attractive. The tendency to put mixed race girls as love interests in music videos, and to ‘accessorise’ them next to hip hop artists began to influence ideas about what was ‘cool’, ‘sexy’ and ‘attractive’, both  in school and everyday life. Today, things have barely moved on. Most girls shape their identities by the images of people like them that they see most often.  While there are many more mixed race women in the media than say, the 1980s or 1990s, the half-dressed, sexual, music video image of us is still over-represented. The message sent out by stereotyping mixed race girls as ‘attractive’, ‘sexy’ and ‘available’ shapes attitudes for both men and women. It suggests inferiority by being passive sexual objects that are there to be enjoyed as ‘exotic’.  Why else would a complete stranger think it totally acceptable to mention race as a chat up line? In the 1980s however, there was a more overt type of prejudice. My mother has told me of the abuse and name calling she received simply walking down the street with myself and my brother. I remember people asking my mum if my brother and I were adopted. I was asked if my mum had coloured me in. There were no adult role models I could identify with. Aged 4, I thought that that when I grew up I was going to be white like my mother and my brother was going to be black like my father. I remember staring at the TV screen seeing the Neneh Cherry’s Buffalo Stance video for the first time thinking: ‘She has lips like me, her hair is like mine and she’s on the TV!’ Things have come a long way. Just turn on the television and you’ll see scores of successful mixed race people, from Jessica Ennis, to Lewis Hamilton to Leona Lewis. Yet a recent report: ‘Mixed Experiences – growing up mixed race: mental health and wellbeing’ suggests mixed race people still face identity problems. The study found that mixed race people are more likely to suffer from mental health problems due their identity confusion. Co-author Dinah Morley commented “I was surprised at how much racism, from black and white people, had come their way….A lot of children were seen as black when they might be being raised by a white single parent and had no understanding of the black culture”. This report is worrying, mainly because it seems to put blame on white parents which I think is misplaced. I can’t speak for all, but my white mother made me very aware of my father’s culture. I knew about his country’s - Zimbabwe’s - fight for independence and the struggles in South Africa. My childhood was spent attending many anti-apartheid rallies and she even took me and my brother on a trip to Botswana, Zimbabwe and Johannesburg. So while a common worry may be that white mothers are unable to teach their mixed race children about their black culture and yes this can be a challenge - especially if the father is absent - it can be and is consciously done by parents all over the UK all the time. The results of this study say to me that it is our society’s obsession with putting people in boxes which is the problem. Aged 11, when I first arrived at secondary school I quickly realised there was the black girl group and the white girl group. Immediately I was accepted into the black girls group. Until that was, they realised I didn’t quite fit in. I was told I “acted white”, “Why didn’t I relaxed my hair?” and my mum “needed to give me beats”. It was the first time I realised there were these boxes and you were expected to fit in them. I didn’t. That year I spent lunch times alone. I was reminded of that time recently when I revisited Zimbabwe. Expecting to find some kind of sense of identity and feeling of ‘home’, I was instead met with stares by locals and to my surprise called ‘white’.  My own family found it easier to run errands without me because of the attention and fuss the presence of a ‘white’ person would cause. Here I was, having flown thousand of miles away to the Motherland, the place of my roots and culture and was being rejected for being ‘white’. At least back in London there are no surprises. I have learnt that most white people will consider me black and I’m OK with that. As an actor for example, I often tick the ‘black’ box, regularly getting put up for roles for black characters.  But I do wonder: doesn’t grouping mixed race people into the ‘black box’ and celebrating our modern, inclusive culture, allow us to happily ignore the struggles that actual black people face?  When in 2002 Halle Berry won Best Actress she was heralded as the first black woman ever to achieve this accolade but many of my black friends at the time noted she wasn’t actually black. Has mixed race just become the acceptable face of ‘black’ for a mainstream audience? Would Obama have won the hearts of white middle America if he was black and not mixed race?  While Obama must be commended for his huge achievement - his presidency in a country with a very recent racist history certainly symbolises huge steps forward, but it’s worth noting that his lighter skin colour may have helped make the achievement possible. Joseph Harker explores this further saying ‘white people don’t have to face up to their prejudices against black and Asian people because, look, here’s someone who’s got a bit of European blood in them…a man who doesn’t look quite so threatening’. Without a doubt our fast growing mixed race population is an indication of our society changing: parents with mixed race children don’t face the type of abuse my mother did; mixed race children get to see more role models that they can identify with and aspire to be like. But the ignorant questions and comments that we as mixed race people still face, tell me we have a way to go before we’ve ‘won the race against prejudice’.  People’s eagerness to ask you where you’re from  - no -  where you’re really from, to touch your hair or call you ‘exotic’ is not always born out of a bad place but they suddenly reveal that they see race first, and as much as they may like you, you are different. And that’s what being mixed race in 2014 is like - Just when you feel secure and comfortable with yourself and identity, you are abruptly reminded: Nobody quite accepts you as their own.

[sophiaandstuff]

Me and my new friends!

[sophiaandstuff]

Back from Zimbabwe

Nobody prepares you for the adjustment of returning to the UK after visiting Africa. I find myself looking at London and the people in it with fresh eyes. Yesterday I sat in the window of Busaba Covent Garden and found myself staring at people’s clothes. Realising for the first time what a privilege it is to dress for fashion –to simply complement our personality. How trivial, it dawned on me - Or worse; how mean - dressing to flaunt wealth or status. Images of young boys walking the streets in ripped tops, no shoes or one trainer came flooding back to me; the school children with no shoes walking 5 miles each way to school daily. I keep thinking: How do we live in the same world in 2014?

For the first time two weeks ago, I went abroad on a trip that was not a holiday, but an urgent family visit. And for the first time I experienced going away and being out of my comfort zone. I usually LOVE going away. The duty free shopping; the cup of tea in a café while I excitedly think about my holiday; the tranquil flight where nobody can send me a WhatsApp, an email, call or text; and the final arriving at the hotel where all I think about is where to go for dinner and what bar to head to tonight.

This time it was very different. I stayed with family in a small African village. They were lovely hosts but the lack of indoor toilets or shower, the creepy crawlies, the religion, the tradition, slow non-urgent nature of the place, the complete difference to what I was used to brought me to tears that first morning. That, and I dropped my brand new iPhone 5s down the toilet. Here I was, in the middle of a Zimbabwean village with an outdoor toilet and shower, sharing a single bed, no internet and now, no phone. No phone. I was literally in tears.

To cheer me up, my cousin suggested I accompany my auntie to pick up my nephew from school that afternoon. I agreed. iPhone on my mind, I began the dusty walk to the school. 20 minutes or so later we entered the back of the school yard. A group of small children spotted us and stared, soon they came rushing over, then more followed, then more, then soon a huge crowd surrounded me staring, their eyes bright with wonder. They were clearly fascinated by me. I, in turn, was fascinated with their fascination. I wasn’t that different from them – I was brown too, just a bit lighter. But then I was looking at race from a Western perspective – the idea that if you’re not white you’re black. But here in this school yard, they obviously hadn’t seen anyone like me before. Here, I could have been Gwyneth Paltrow for all it mattered - I wasn’t the same as them. In the midst of the crowds one tiny girl suddenly whispered ‘Hello, how are you?’ I smiled and replied ‘Good thank you, how are you?’ There was a burst of giggles. Then one by one they all tried saying it: ‘Hello, how are you?’ Until there were loud echoes across the school yard.

More than 30 children followed us back to the house taking turns to hold my hand. Concerned, I asked my auntie if they were walking out of their way home, to which she replied ‘no, they live this way. That little girl said she lives about 5 miles past our house’. I looked over. Like most of the children, she had been walking on the hot stony ground with no shoes on.

I didn’t care about my iPhone after that. I got on with my trip - visiting my father (the reason I was there), seeing wild animals, and even rock climbing. But the poverty I saw; the girls I met who were teenage wives; the imprisoned women I saw on TV for having abortions; the frequent AIDS related deaths I heard about; the lack of free education; lack of free health-care, all bothered me deeply.

Now I’m back, I can’t help but think how lucky I am to simply be born with all these privileges. And I can’t help but think that with all the technology we have available, giving us opportunities to travel the world; communicate with other countries through the internet; share images and information instantly - how have we somehow managed to totally ignore what is happening to other people in other parts of the world?

The answer is we can just ignore what makes us uncomfortable and so, we do. We turn over the news and choose instead to surround ourselves with things that amplify our superficial wants and desires – clothes, shoes, celebrity gossip. We actively choose to keep in our little bubble - with our iPhone’s Twitter, Facebook and Instagram Apps, giving of more of the same materialistic, superficial content.

So when my iPhone dropped down the toilet that day little, did I know it was a blessing in disguise. I got to see for the first time how other people really live and it changed the way I view things. I’m not going to pretend I’m not going to care about popular culture anymore, because that’s a lie. But it’s about perspective - knowing what really matters in life and what doesn’t. And as I prepare to get my new iPhone tomorrow, I pray that I don’t ever forget it.