The Way We Move: Why I ♥ Being A Black Woman

A little over a month ago, the incredibly talented and gracious Lynya Floyd, an Essence magazine editor and friend, asked me to write a poetic piece about the beauty of black women, and I happily obliged. Of all the assignments I get during the course of a month, this one held a specific significance to me, not only because I'm a black woman, but because I'm the mother of two chocolate girlpies who need to be told—often and in as many different ways that I can muster—that they are special, beautiful and loved, no matter what anyone else says about it. The piece was, by far, one of the best assignments I've had in quite some time; there was no reporting, no rewriting and no waiting for experts to get back to me. Just pure, beautiful words, one behind the other—a collection of praise for all that is good about us.  

Here, a little peek at my piece, "The Way We Move," which opens the incredible "Why I  ♥ Being a Black Woman" feature in the July issue of Essence, with the lovely Jada Pinkett Smith gracing the cover: 

Can't nobody move like us. Or hold it down like us, even with babies on our hips and the world on our backs (always on our backs). We are fly and we stay fly.  

Insist too, that you do the same with that shotgun-to-the-back insistence. We got expectations, see? And when you’re not holding up your end of the bargain, we’ll cut you quick. With our eyes. With our words. Oh, please believe: No matter how sweet, we’re all capable of getting ice-cold with it— can sear you like fire, and then, on a dime, make you feel all bubblin’ brown sugar warm. Hell, we can deliver all of this in the same sentence, if so moved.

It’s a skill. We swath it in adoration, add a dollop of “for real for real” and a tip of “I know you know better,” then bake it in prayer, reserved for those we love hard and strong. We fall down on our knees for you. Even when you don’t realize it. Or deserve it. But especially when you need it. 

... We may be a little loud. A little mean.  A little strict. A little tart-tounged. A little big. A lot extra. But, church hand held high, this, this is what makes us incredible.

This. This is why I love being a writer—why I thank God everyday not only for this gift he's given me, but the ability and time and wherewithal to make it do what it do. I'm going to rip my piece out of my issue of Essence and frame it for my office.  And then I'm going to buy two more issues so I can tear out one copy each for my daughters' memory boxes, so that when they look back on this space and time, they'll remember just how incredible, intelligent, delicious, strong and fly their mother thinks they are. 

They need to know this. 

And remember it, too. 

We all do. 

Tell me, what do you love about being a black woman?

[ESSENCE gathered 9 of our favorite actresses to talk about why they love being a Black woman. Ledisi, a MyBrownBaby favorite, loved the concept so much she dedicated an exclusive song, "Real Woman," to the project. Check out the video below to hear both the song and what the stars had to say about their love for black women.]

Brown Skin Is Beautiful—Now Put Some Make-up On It!

By DENENE MILLNER

My mother was incredibly beautiful—had this fiery red hair and high cheekbones and the smoothest, most flawless skin you ever did see. With her hair just so, she looked so much like Whitney Houston (the pre-Bobby Brown/crack-is-wack version) her co-workers on the line at Estee Lauder regularly used to ask her to bust a tune. (Um, just for the record, my mother couldn’t hold a note if someone tucked it in a Birkin bag.) She was, in a word, stunning.

What made her more beautiful to me, though, was that she was fly without make-up. She just didn’t wear a lot of it. A little mascara, some lipstick, and maybe some blush, that was it. I remember standing in the doorway, watching her blot her Fashion Fair maroon-ish red lipstick on a tissue, wishing for the day that I could slip a little of it on my lips, too. She’d smile—always that beautiful smile—and tell me, “If you want to keep that pretty skin, don’t wear make-up. Just keep your face clean and you won’t have to worry about bumps and all of that stuff.”

And, like a good daughter, I listened to my mother, because that’s what you did when you were Bettye’s child. I don’t think I wore much more than lip gloss until I was well into my sophomore year in college, and even then, I used it sparingly, and only on special occasions. And even now, as a mom with three brown babies of my own, I pretty much operate under the same philosophy: A bare face is the best face.

Well, I made the mistake of saying this to one of the most beautiful women in the world—the legendary actress Diahann Carroll. I had the honor and pleasure of interviewing Ms. Carroll for Essence magazine’s annual Hollywood issue, which hit stands just in time for their Essence Black Women In Hollywood Luncheon, going down at the Beverly Hills Hotel tomorrow. In the story, she dishes on her ground-breaking career, her roles as the devilishly delicious Dominique Deveraux on my all-time favorite soap, “Dynasty,” and how she, an African American woman, survived—and prospered—in the unforgiving, extremely white American film industry.

Needless to say, the glamorous Ms. Carroll stopped me mid-sentence when I flippantly said, “I don’t really wear make-up unless it’s for special occasions. I’m mostly bare-faced unless there’s something special happening.”

She fell silent—I’m guessing so that she could make sure I heard her gasp.

“Stop thinking of it that way,” she scolded me with that magnificent voice. “Think of the person you run into. You’re taking you! And that little attention you give to you means you really like you.

“Barefaced to me,” she sniffed, “does not mean you like you. I understand taking a holiday, but you must like you. It’s important.”

I tell you, by the time I finished that interview, I was so smitten by Ms. Carroll, I was naming her as one of my favorite celebrity interviews ever—up there with Lena Horne, Ossie and Ruby Dee, and yes, even the in-persons with Idris Elba and George Clooney. Um, yeah—that says A LOT about Ms. Carroll. Anyways, after I hung up with her from our hour-long interview, I literally ran into my bathroom and dusted my face with my amazing-but-hardly-ever-used set of Bobbi Brown foundation, blush, and eye shadow, applied my trusty waterproof Maybelline mascara and eyeliner, and finished it all off with my Aveda lip tint. And then I stood back and admired the work.

And Diahann Carroll was right: I liked me.

I put on a nice top, and some hot jeans, and even traded up from my Crocs to a pair of high-heeled mules because all that work deserved something adorable to go with it. And then I walked out the door tipping—you know how it is… like I was too cute. Nick loved it. And my girls did, too.

Later, when I took my daughters to Mandarin class at Angelou’s house, she opened the door and immediately asked me where I was going. “You got make-up on,” she said. “You got a hot date or something?”

I cracked up.

And told her, simply, that if only for today, I was practicing liking me.

That one was for you, Ms. Carroll.

To read my profile tribute to the incredible Diahann Carroll, as well as my domestic violence piece on two of the stars of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, pick up the March 2009 issue of Essence.