Waxing Wahala

Style | Mitindo, Writing | Maandishi

Since my first death by Brazilian some years ago, I’ve favoured the hair removal method for its silky and long-lasting results. The process is notoriously painful and, generally, costly; the latter for good reason, given that it’s a luxury on the part of the client and requires very intimate contact from the provider. Between Boston rent prices and my generation supposedly draining our income on avocado toast (eye roll), my finances do not allow for upkeep as regularly as I’d prefer. But they say necessity is the mother of invention — so, I decided to do it myself.

A Boston Encounter

Style | Mitindo, Writing | Maandishi

En route from one errand to another this past weekend, I found myself in Copley Square. I was on the phone, ambling unhurriedly, and paused on the steps of Trinity Church to lean on a pillar and finish the call. Standing there, enjoying the sun and watching others do likewise, I felt a wave of nostalgia for the beautiful moments I shared on the lawn with friends last summer. I also noticed that the building’s columns made an excellent backdrop for my outfit, so then I really wanted a photo — in the name of art plus, full disclosure, a tinge of vanity. But I didn’t have company to take one for me! Yes, there were many people there and I could’ve asked someone, but I didn’t want to ask just anyone… You know? So I started walking away reluctantly,  which is when I spotted Linh.

Mwanamke Nywele (1)

Writing | Maandishi

Spend enough time as a minority, and you just might start to feel like something’s not right about you. That, in being outnumbered, your very existence is somehow a flaw that needs to be amended to fit the ‘norm’. This effect is especially pronounced when the minority in question is a child with a not-yet-solidified sense of self: for me, my time at the pre-school I attended was the beginning of a fraught relationship with my hair that would span the next quarter century of my life.