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I’ve been thinking about romantic love for a little while now. Well, mostly romantic, but in general I’ve been contemplating my relationship with men and where love fits in those relationships. I’ll be honest, romantic love hasn’t manifested itself in the way I’ve seen other people experience it. I’ve never been in a mutual relationship with someone I’d call a partner, I haven’t been intimate with a person long enough for that part of a relationship to materialize, and I’ve been thinking a lot about why that is, and the role I’ve had in perpetuating that experience. When I was first trying to learn what love was supposed to look like, around middle school I’d say, I wanted to blame myself and relatively superficial factors based on some of my most intimate insecurities — how I felt about my body, my skin, my hair as the reasons why boys didn’t come flocking to me. I blamed things that are uniquely tied to what I looked like. The way I saw love being expressed to other girls — girls who were taller, lighter, skinnier, with less acne molded my expectation of what men wanted and fueled the insecurities I had because they seemed to be everything I wasn’t. While these thoughts existed and played a role in how closed off I was to the idea of professing my intense like for men, they didn’t stay for long, mainly because of the relationships I had with men at that time. My father always made it a point to affirm my worth. My father loved my smile, my gap, my violet gums, my cheeks and voice and never forgot to remind me of how special and beautiful  I am. He would jest about when I would bring a boy home often because “there was no way they weren’t asking to approach me” because I look the way I do. My friendships with mostly boys around that time also offset some of that insecurity because I had friends who not only valued me as a person but appreciated me for things I didn’t necessarily notice in myself like my wit, sense of humor, ability to listen and call them out on their shit.

Over the years, I’ve gone through different phases of trying to redefine my insecurities for myself but ultimately so that I wouldn’t let these self limiting beliefs stand in the way of the potential relationships I could develop. It started with my face. The ugly duckling years of middle school prompted my first interests in learning about makeup so that I could distract people from what I didn’t want them to see.  It evolved into a genuine appreciation of the art and eventually a form of therapy for me. I loved beautifying myself for me -- a stray compliment (though I didn’t know how to accept them) also contributed to the boost in dopamine but ultimately, it was the agency of being able to do something only I knew how to do at the time that added to my confidence. Next was my hair, I think I was the most insecure about that for the longest time. My sister always had thicker, longer hair than me and my worth — especially in a deeply Caribbean household felt tied to how manageable and beautiful I could be and hair was the first indicator of that. When relaxed, my hair was thin, uneven, and barely scraped my shoulders. In high school, after having skipped a couple of relaxer sessions before the first day of my sophomore year, I chopped it all off with kitchen scissors. I remember wanting to see if I could feel beautiful without hair and that would be the “social experiment”. Learning to love the hair that grew out of my head at any stage and detaching the value of my beauty from it was not what I thought I was doing that day at 15, but looking back my confidence grew over time from this dissociation. I was just a year and a half early from the boom of natural hair journeys and big chops of that era (yes, if you haven’t noticed I am ahead of my time in a lot of ways lmao) where other women and girls were also expanding their definitions of self-love via their hair and that also made me feel more confident that I can be all of myself around anyone. Hair no longer was a contributing insecurity for me. Recently, I did another dramatic chop, rooted more in an existential crisis, but it also kind of reminded me of the first — how I could still see myself as beautiful without relying on the factors that are called conventionally beautiful. Last, was my body. I had been prone to unhealthy habits rooted in my poor body image for as long as I could remember like restricting meals, unsustainable diets, even at one point abusing drugs (long story) to try to shave off of a few pounds or to try to find the semblance of abs under all my stomach fat. This insecurity was the hardest to shake. Looking at old pictures of myself these days baffles me because when I was trying my hardest to lose weight, I was probably at my skinniest. I didn’t begin redefining my body image until I got to college and needed to find a way to curb the freshman 15. A friend introduced to weightlifting our freshman year and all I can remember is how powerful it made me feel. The simple movements of a squat or a deadlift wasn’t what brought the thrill, it was the amount of weight I could hold in my hands for an extended period of time, the mass I could move that made me feel like if I could do that then I could do anything. Fitness in the form of weightlifting where I was tracking progress with what I could do and not how I looked like really helped me redefine the boundaries of my body. I still struggle with body image every now and again since I’m still very far from a set of well defined abs and too many things jiggle without my permission most times and I think it will always be a work in progress for someone like me who’s intrinsically a perfectionist but the frame shift I have experienced since has empowered me in ways that I never thought would belong to me.

Now back to men. I think it was around this time last year that I started taking a critical look at why I was the way I was where men are concerned. It was at the height of my dad’s battle with cancer and I was ini school failing and riddled with guilt about it. The first real idea of what a relationship would look like for me also came up in my thoughts. A guy , the topic of many stories and a couple of playlists, who I had a lot of respect for but for all intents and purposes didn’t reciprocate that respect in the ways I felt I needed kept coming into my mind at that time. We had a relatively complicated history spanning almost ten years now and it was the kind of connection that I didn’t want to bring with me as powerful as it was. The back and forth took me back to a place where my insecurities were the root of my worth and validation and that was no longer my truth. Some part of me really wanted to believe that we were the kind of people who would always find our way to each other and I held a lot of love for him. But given the place I was an in at the time, I felt like I was on the road to losing some of the most important men in my life and I wanted to do as much that was in my power to curb that by questioning the love l held for all the men in my life. So I sent some letters and one of them was to him. Disclaimer, I was really embarrassed by the letter and even more embarrassed that I sent it to his school email so he had no choice but to read it. But in this letter, I thanked him. I thanked him for seeing me— all of me when I felt like nobody did but also told him that I needed to cut the ties that attached my sense of self to how he saw me and felt about me considering he was one of the first people to admit to seeing me in a romantic context. We were becoming adults, diverging paths and still something in me was holding out for him and I knew I needed to work on letting that go. It took me a week to write that letter and another week and some liquid courage to send it to him. I wrote a couple of other letters, mailed some, kept others. Overall in this exercise, I realized the lack of emotional vulnerability I have always struggled with, the coldness as a defense mechanism that I was comfortable using and the sense of security I felt from the validation of my father and my best male friends all fueled the way I shot myself in the foot when it came to letting new men into my life. Fast forward, my father has passed, this man is back in my life in the context of a healthy friendship and I am working on the final frontier of emotional vulnerability so that whatever the next romantic experience that comes my way, I won’t run from it. I made this with all the men I’ve loved in mind, my daddy, my best friend, the first person I said I love you to and meant it, a person who I’ve recently resigned myself to just get to know as opposed to making advances on and every situation I have yet to encounter where the male half of our species is involved. This is to all the men I’ve loved before, will always love, and hopefully will learn to love. Enjoy it.

#playlist melissak music purgepost exitential crisis

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Spring mood board.

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March 23rd, Happy birthday to our legendary Queen of Funk, Chaka Khan!! 💜Thank you for being such a wonderful and inspiring role model, thank you for your music, thank you for the positive message you’re sending out!! We love you Queen💜💜

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Look how talented he is!!

His instagram is waspa_art

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@itstimiduhh gorgeous

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W a v y

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Danielle Brooks 💚

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Can we take a moment to appreciate this mama-daughter slay? 😍

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Congrats to Ryan Destiny on winning the Fashion Icon Award at the International Women of Power Event 💚

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when the creative director and models prefer your shot to that of the official photographer’s ☺️

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beyoncé x braids

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IG: worrsst & Tevink__

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Communion is the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially when this exchange is on a mental and spiritual level. Umoja— the Swahili word for Unity— is the act of building a community that holds together. It is through music that the Black diaspora partakes in communion to cultivate Umoja. This playlist is a collection of different degrees of communion in the Black community. Black love, Black family and the Black communities are the foundation of the Black experience.

I thought a lot about Miami, my family and friends while making this playlist. It reminded me of the streets I grew up on, the apartment complex playground I played with all my friends in and how that experience is so common and staple to communion. Hoping this playlist takes people back home like it did for me. 

#blackhistorymonth #blackheritagemonth #playlist #kamalathegreat #melissakeustache

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“Do what you gotta do, come on back and see me when you can” -Nina Simone

#acceptance #playlist #spotify #melissak

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“I never wanted you to be my man, I just needed company” -Amy Winehouse

#playlist #spotify #curating #resentment #melissak