I have always wondered why I have always been sensitive about people doing my hair? I mean even before my friend with the barber shop’s, stylist, put something in my hair the last time I went reddish brown and all my hair was in my hand two weeks later when I washed my hair.

I wanted to fight.

My light bright boyfriend consoled me. I can’t remember what he said or did, but I didn’t run up in her shop acting a fool. So it must have been worthwhile.

No. Me choosing a hairstylist has always been a difficult procedure. Painful. And I always wondered why I would make an appointment and cancel. Or our schedules would never allow us to work together.

Until I saw a beautician post. She was making someone feel little about her having wavy hair and the other woman did not. I, on the other hand, wanted to say something about her caked on makeup but I been BEGGING Lord Jesus, please please PLEASE teach me how to hold my tongue.

That middle school cool clique bullying thing sometimes comes out to grab hold of me.

I pray for humility.

Shake me break me make me humble is actually what I sing to God. So I am never surprised when I get humiliated.


I thought everything we as believers did was for the glory of God. How is boasting about wavy hair on your head bringing God glory? How is ‘treating’ someone giving God glory?

She is making this woman feel bad about her waves, bullying, when all she had to tell the chick is this is my natural hair. You probably can get the same effect if you get a texturizer. I mean.

She is a stylist right? But that’s my sarcasm coming out. In love I have to say peaceable things. Because my mean tongue can’t being God glory.

As a stylist she would know different ways to play and manipulate the styling of various textures of hair.

Sometimes it literally hurts me to be nice. But that’s only to people who are not nice to me, or not nice to people who choose not to speak up for themselves.

My mouth is equally as big as my ego used to be.

I’m thinking to myself. What good is a wave pattern if your attitude sucks. I won’t be vulgar and say what they suck. I’m trying to please my Father in heaven. He knows me. But I know how He is trying to change me.

I concur. Then digress. What good is a wave pattern if you’re using what God gave you to make someone else feel bad about what they didn’t get?

What good is a wave pattern if you’re still a mean girl?

And mostly, most importantly, what good is a wave pattern of you’re still a black woman and you’re being mean to another black woman. Regardless to our wave patterns our skin colors etc, we still undergo and face the same struggles that another black woman must contend with.

So. Now I get it.

Some women cannot be in my head because the mean girl in them will cause the mean girl I used to be and still struggle not to be to resurface. Sometimes its mean to women, sometimes its mean to men. Mean is mean and mean stinks!

So I think. I’m going to take my needle and my thread. My glue and my tracks. My flat iron and oil sheen and do me.


I can’t do anymore mean girls. Especially grown mean girls. I’m raising a lady. I don’t want her to become a mean girl because of what she sees her mommy doing, saying, or being.


I’m walking in love. Free to be. The woman God called me to be. Not a mean girl. But a woman of God. Because of what use is everything else if I don’t have love?

1 Corinthians 13.
The Way of Love

13 If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

3-7 If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

8-10 Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.


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