Skip to main content

Just Be More Natural - Just Being Funny

“Can you be more natural?”

“What do you mean?” I asked my boyfriend of fewer than six months. I tried to conceal my thoughts with a Stepford Wives meets Serial Mom smile.



Here's the thing: I was already the most natural I’d ever been in my entire life. Yes, my hair was straight, but it was only a temporary effect created with my flat iron and blow dryer. I didn’t wear hair extensions, fake nails, or makeup. I’d never had plastic surgery!

From my crazy eyes, he could tell that my inner monolog switched from ‘quirky brown girl’ to ‘angry black woman.' Cue: hand clapping, finger pointing, and neck rolls. See, interracial dating was new for me. I anxiously searched for signs of being tokenized. I was secure in my blackness and was not here for men looking to cure their Jungle Fever or feed their low key melanin fetish.

“Can you be more natural?” his words rang in my mind as I soaked in the tub. Should I? I removed my shower cap. Reaching for the nearest towel, I dried my hands and then touched my roots and the tightly coiled top bun.  Sigh. Without thinking, I released my hair. I lowered my torso and head allowing the water to penetrate my follicles. I can't lie, yuh gyal was feeling like Janet Jackson in her Everytime music video.



Hopping out the tub to check my hair out. I was all ‘praise hands emoji’ because my curls were popping. Team No Heat Damage! Next was the moment of truth: would I use products or give this “be more natural” thing a chance. Insert the longest sigh of your life. I skipped the products, wrapped my head in a scarf, and went to bed.

Yo, the next day my hair was stuck in a Sideshow Bob confection! It was up, hard, and looking like Don King. I was late for church so I had to walk the street with this hard ashy afro.

Later that night, my face is all pushed up ready to rip him a new one for convincing me to turn my hair into stone. Boo, I am not mixed. I know exactly what’s growing out of my head.

“You’re beautiful. What's wrong?”


That’s how I learned to not trust silky-haired friends to give hair advice. That night I spent six hours detangling and ‘un-crisping’ my hair. Never again. Meh say, never again!


What would you do? Tweet me using #JBFxOnicia


Created on St. Maarten. Based in Chicago. Onicia Muller (@OniciaMuller) writes, says funny things, and enjoys hanging with creative minds. Originally published in The Daily Herald's WeekenderJust Being Funny is a weekly reflection where Onicia laughs at life


Want more funny? Subscribe. Buy me ice cream. Share.
 





Popular posts from this blog

Alive, Making Stuff, and Ready to Collaborate - Onicia Updates - December 2018

This month's newsletter is inspired by my friend and fellow creative living in Chicago, Erisa Apantaku (@erisa_apantaku) . Erisa produces content for some of my fave Chicago media organizations including City Bureau and South Side Weekly. As we break for the holiday season and prepare our resolutions for 2019, I want you to know that I'm alive, making stuff, and ready to collaborate. Holla at me or connect me with anyone interested in producing a play (especially in the Caribbean), publishing short fiction or personal essays, producing video or audio content. Next year, I want to be all about sharing stories. I don't plan on doing as many live storytelling or comedy events, but I'm open to creating stuff for the internet. Know any business owners needing a website upgrade, blog content, newsletters, or press releases? Here's a link to my portfolio and list of services. Well, that's all I gotta say for 2018. See you in the new year and hopefully we...

Joanne the Scammer and the Unpaid Intern - Just Being Funny

Cold sweats, shakes, delusions, and diarrhea. I'd surpassed the “I'm so sick I should see a doctor regardless of the copay” phase and was now in the “here's my computer password; call my mom if I die” phase. I’d lost seven pounds through running to the bathroom to clear my colon. On day fourteen of what I was sure was a modern strain of the Black Death (Dramatic. I know!) when my internship boss called.  Apparently, she thought my two weeks’ notice was contingent on me finding a replacement. It wasn’t. After eight months of unpaid laboring, I decided to move on. Finding a replacement was my parting gift. It wasn’t my fault, nor my problem, that Rebecca the unreliable Canadian was, well, unreliable. Short of breath and borderline delirious, I explained that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t help because I was seriously unwell. Faster than it took me to put my arms under the covers and roll on my side, my roommate’s phone rang.  Mumbling. Chucking. Pacing. There’s a kno...

Everyone in Hollywood is Blowing 'Big Smoke' - Women in Film

Miriam Glaser  as Leah. 'Big Smoke' is written and created by Laura E. Bray and Miriam Glaser. Big Smoke is basically what my life would have been had things not worked out for me and Le Roommate.  About four episodes into this 6-part comedic web series about selling a TV show, I realized that Big Smoke is basically what my life will be once I work up the courage to actually sell my scripts. Here’s what Big Smoke creators  Laura E. Bray  and Miriam Glaser taught me about selling a television script. You can’t sell a screenplay if you don’t shop your screenplay. There are plenty of people looking to buy, so shoot your shot . Despite what LinkedIn profiles, IMDB pages, or company websites say, everyone is just blowing smoke and hoping for the planets to align . So, yes, go to that pitch meeting with a positive attitude. Don’t sweat it if things fall through. Don’t cyber-stalk your ex or creative competition -- especially not ...