The Curly Gurl Chronicles








Welcome, my friends, to the Curly Gurl Chronicles – where my mental musings will run the gamut from reflective to ratchet; refined to raw.  This is the place where I’ll laugh, cry, snide-eye, and talk a bit about everything and nothing.  And I’ll let you log in and bear witness to the whole damn thang.  In exchange for exposing myself to you (not literally of course… that’s a different site entirely…), all I ask is that you nod in agreement, giggle in amusement, and gasp at the realization that you’re FAR from alone…  and not nearly as jacked up as you thought you were.   

So, join me on this journalistic journey.  We’ll fail, we’ll fall, and prolly end up as a meme, but we’ll have fun doing it and be better people for it (at least, that’s what I’m telling myself…).

And, with that, I present to you:  The Curly Gurl Chronicles.



Common Goals.jpg

Common goals

Not too long ago, my sister and I attended a concert at Virginia’s Wolf Trap theater.  Our friend had gotten four of us free tickets through her company, and we were excited to see the rapper who repped for black womanhood long before we could even call ourselves women, Queen Latifah.  However, it was the other headliner, Common (otherwise known as our collective baby daddy) who had us all the way hyped.  While Latifah reminded us of our childhoods – flooding our minds with memories of overalls, Timberland boots, and leather Africa medallions – it was Common, that beautiful bald bastion of wokeness – that had us chattering most of the ride there.  But when we arrived and realized that our free, corporate seats had us sitting front row center (like, so close that getting sprinkled with celebrity sweat was a foregone conclusion), we knew it was gonna be a night to end ALL nights.





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