Small Doses

  Editor: Samantha Weiner

  Designer: Sebit Min

  Production Manager: Michael Kaserkie

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018958836

  ISBN: 978-1-4197-3450-2

  eISBN: 978-1-68335-494-9

  Copyright © 2019 Amanda Seales

  Photography by Elton Anderson

  Jacket © 2019 Abrams

  Emojis © Apple, courtesy of Emojipedia®

  Published in 2019 by Abrams Image, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

  Abrams Image books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.

  ABRAMS The Art of Books

  195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007

  abramsbooks.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Ladies First

  Side Effects of Body and Beauty BS

  Side Effects of Rape Culture

  Side Effects of Being a Black Woman

  Side Effects of The Hoe Phase

  CHAPTER 2

  Race Realities

  Side Effects of Race in the Workplace

  Side Effects of The White Bubble

  Side Effects of Stereotypes

  Side Effects of Staying Woke

  CHAPTER 3

  Square Biz

  Side Effects of Being a Creative

  Side Effects of The Come Up

  Side Effects of The Fall Off

  Side Effects of Being a Multihyphenate

  CHAPTER 4

  Bae Watch

  Side Effects of Dating in a Digital World

  Side Effects of The Curve

  Side Effects of Booed Up

  Side Effects of Breakups to Make Ups

  CHAPTER 5

  People Are Weird

  Side Effects of Type-A Personalities

  Side Effects of Da Homies

  Side Effects of Being a Realist

  Side Effects of Haters

  CHAPTER 6

  Glow On

  Side Effects of Insecurity

  Side Effects of Individualism

  Side Effects of Therapy

  Side Effects of Living in Your Truth

  FOR NETS

  These words come from experience, hope, and faith. You may not agree with all of them, but know they’re born from a pure place.

  CHAPTER 1

  Ladies First

  In a Woman’s Best Interest & Slaying in Spite of Sexism

  WOMANHOOD IS BY NO MEANS EASY. I mean, it’s def got its perks, but the whole period thing is a drag, and we could all do without that pesky patriarchy and its pal, misogyny. Women are the shit! It has to be said. We’ve made an entire existence out of proving that on a regular basis, in arenas welcoming or not, and I see no signs of stopping any time soon. We can’t.

  One thing I became aware of in my traveling recently through Africa and the Middle East is in every country that you go to usually the degree of progress can never be separated from the woman. If you’re in the country that’s progressive, the woman is progressive. If you’re in a country that reflects the consciousness of the importance of education, it’s because the woman is aware of the importance of education. But in every backward country you’ll find the women are backward and in every country where education is not stressed, it’s because the women don’t have education.

  —Malcolm X

  As Malcolm states above, when women flourish, the community flourishes. Everybody wins. Why do you think the Black Eyed Peas added Fergie? Ruff Ryders brought in Eve? The Roots tossed around the possibility of making me a member because women have a way of elevating any previously predominantly male space. Some might say it’s the estrogen, or the natural nurturing, but I liken it to a different perspective being added that extends the vision beyond its previous horizon.

  Full of life, figuratively, and in some cases, literally, we are vitality in human form. Even in the stories of religion, whether Eve with the apple or Durga with her trishul or Isis spreading her wings, women are simply not the falsehood that has been told throughout history, depicting us as weak, unable, and unworthy of education. Unfortunately, instead of this making more spaces for women, it fuels the fear-driven insecurities of those propping up the pillars of patriarchy, freeaakkss weak men out, and they then resort to acts of oppression and suppression in an attempt to dull our glow. The world over, women have been underutilized, disrespected, and battered in unique ways that intersect at the site of our gender, yet we have continued to rise.

  Now, we find ourselves at a turning point in history, where, particularly in the west, though our rights to our bodies continue to be decided upon by rooms of soulless, melanin-less men in expensive muted suits and Fantastic Sams haircuts, we lean in, and grow our numbers, pushing the narrative to finally hold the pen in writing herstory. Daily we defy the degradation of being considered only for a reproductive purpose, or objectified for sexual pleasure, or vilified for independent thought. We actively disembowel proponents of body shaming, reclaiming our many shapes and sizes in their natural forms. We are raising the volume on having zero tolerance for abuse and mistreatment. We are educating the masses on rape culture and holding predators accountable. We are a movement.

  That said, we are not a monolith. Once upon a time womanhood was measured simply by being born with a certain set of reproductive organs. Over time, as we have expanded beyond just our sexuality and gender assignments, we have come to see the broadness of its beauty, and the complexity in its actuality. No matter what type of woman you identify as, be it cisgender, trans, lesbian, queer, another label, or without a label at all, to speak about being a woman is to speak about all of these things from various points of marginalized society while being fully aware of your inner sanctum of “supa.” The most privileged women to the most forgotten have all been relegated to the back in one way or another to stand behind as patriarchy impedes their progress. For that you would think intersectionality would be a natural part of feminism—the fight for women’s equality. However, feminism is still navigating its way through other obstacles of difference to truly be effective for the various types of women it should be speaking for. In the meantime, we must continue to speak for ourselves, and when that ain’t enough, join with others in bringing the noise!

  SIDE EFFECTS OF

  Body and Beauty BS

  ASSETS

  I was on a red carpet once and an interviewer asked me, “What do you consider your best body part.” I could have said, “My booty.” I’ve been told it’s nice and booties are all the rage. I could have said, “My eyes.” That always sounds poetic and like you’re deep and whatnot. I could have said, “My feet,” then launched into the tale of overcoming my high-school-born “caveman-feet” complex. All would have been perfectly acceptable and somewhat predictable. To be honest, none of those occurred to me. I replied, “My brain.” She looked at me as if she had never considered that the answer could be something outside of a body part typically objectified, whether in adoration or with disdain. I watched as her face contorted from confused to intrigued to impressed. She high-fived me, and I was glad that it seemed like not only had she been presented with a new perspective on her question, but also a new perspective on how we women should view our bodies.

  “CLASSIC BEAUTY”

  To some, when a woman is considered a “classic beauty,” it is based on Greek art. She is the modern-day example of what the artisans of classi
c visual art considered beautiful. To others, it refers to a certain symmetry of the features and how they align. To others it’s a reference to simplicity and timelessness. I get that, but at this point, in our neocolonial post-implant media-soaked society when I hear “classic beauty” it’s code for describing the features of women that the white guys with the most money think are pretty. They are driving the dollars to the companies that drive the media which drives the masses in how they are influenced to spend their dollars. If the Fortune 500 CEOs thought red hair and freckles were the cat’s meow, blond and blue-eyed would be demoted from the “classic beauty” standard to “meh.” My point is that beauty can be observed by men, but it is not and should not be determined by them. It has all kinds of definitions and truly is determined by each of us individually.

  PLEASE TELL OTHER WOMEN:

  • When they have food in their teeth.

  • If their tag is sticking out.

  • If they have lipstick on their teeth.

  • If their thong is showing.

  • If their fly is down.

  • If you like their outfit.

  • If you’ve been cautioned about a creep.

  • If their significant other is being shady.

  In other words, let’s look out for each other. Society has created multiple ways for us to be self-conscious about things that naturally happen if you’re simply moving in the world. So, let’s at least help to alleviate the feeling of embarrassment by normalizing this stuff with basic acts of attentiveness to your fellow gals!

  BROWS, BRAS, AND BICS

  I was a late bloomer. So beauty stuff really wasn’t my speed. Sure, I obsessed over supermodels like Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington, and yes, I absolutely tried on my mom’s Fashion Fair lipstick when she wasn’t home, and I had an overabundance of Lip Smackers lip gloss pouring out of my Spice Girls, Lisa Frank, 5-7-9 existence, but still, I was 4'9" junior year of high school, so I never really delved into the glam of it all till much, much later. So imagine my shock and dismay when one day at lunch my BFF, Tara, turned to me and said, “I’m sorry but we can’t be best friends anymore. You don’t even pluck your eyebrows.” The horror. I’m not sure I can blame her—my eyebrows resembled two very voluminous caterpillars hoisted above my eyes; pair that with my Gap Kids wardrobe and I really wasn’t what you would consider a “cool kid.” Three years later, I would eventually get my eyebrows plucked on a hotel bed at National Foundation for Advancement in the Arts week (now YoungArts) by Alex, a fellow actor, in full acceptance of his homosexuality and sporting a flare for the dramatic. That flare had my eyebrows diminished from hungry hungry caterpillars to skinny skinny snakes. My driver’s license photo looked like I was surprised I passed. These days eyebrows are a movement! I had no idea that something so seemingly mundane could be the source of entire product lines, careers, and stores! Folks are getting their brows tattooed, threaded, implanted—it’s big business! Maybe my eleventh grade BFF was ahead of the pack and knew the brow game was going to be poppin’. Alex sure did!

  Does anyone else’s titties audibly sigh when they take off their bra at the end of the day? It truly doesn’t matter the size of your set, bras can feel like straightjackets. You get home and that clasp comes off and you gotta just let ’em hang free, run with the wind, embrace the indigenous ways, and let ’em breathe. Dance to Fela Kuti in your living room.

  I was so scared to ask my mom if I could shave my legs that I created a game of hangman and had her play with me at the kitchen table revealing, “I want to shave my legs.” In true Caribbean mother fashion she just waved her hand and said, “So shave your legs . . . don’t get cut!” That was my teaching. The first time, I created a lather that was cartoon worthy, and blindly sunk the Bic razor deep in like when you fall backward into a snowbank, until I felt it make contact with my skin. I tried my best to mimic the relaxed wrist movements I saw in the commercials in order to avoid any nicks. It was so far, so good until I caught one little piece of shin skin. When the water hit it, I thought I was overreacting but no, THAT SHIT STUNG LIKE HELL. It hurt so bad I contemplated if this was the life for me or if I could be a woman liberated from the pressures of hair removal. I remembered that I had two more years of middle school and at that very second boys were cooking up a slew of insults tailor-made for the prepubescent posse. I was already flat-chested. I refused to provide any more ammunition. Next time I’d just have to use clippers.

  MAKEUP IS A FRONT

  Makeup serves many purposes. None of them are to fool men. That’s all I have to say about that.

  FAT SHAMING

  Our bodies are not up for discussion.

  PUBES

  So many of women’s decisions on how we manage our bodies are based on influences that are outside of our best interests. This business of expecting women to have a bald nether region is just foolish. To each their own! I, for one, don’t feel comfortable rocking the pubic high-top fade, but at the same time, I’m not with feeling like I have to have a hairless cat, either.

  AND NOW, A LIST OF ALTERNATIVE NAMES FOR YOUR VAGINA

  • Shang-ri-lina

  • The Magic Middle

  • Vajayjay

  • Your Sanctuary

  • Pinkville

  • *La + whatever your middle name is* Mine would be: La Ingrid

  • Dulcevita

  • Moonriver

  • Ambrosia

  • Yes Man’s Land

  GEM DROPPIN’

  Pretty vs. Gorgeous

  YOU KNOW WHAT? EVERY WOMAN IS PRETTY, gorgeous, fly, sexy, cute, bangin’, fine, bad, stacked, pretty hot and tempting (or PHAT), etc., etc., etc., in their own way. Learn and love what YOU consider to be pretty, gorgeous, fly, sexy, cute, bangin’, fine, bad, stacked, pretty hot and tempting (or PHAT) about you, and don’t base that on what anyone else thinks. And that’s all I have to say about that!

  Styles Upon Styles Is What I Wear

  THAT ONE TIME

  Style is personal and speaks for you without you having to say a word. Super flared jeans, a Pepto-pink Old Navy bubble coat, and Kangols . . . SO. Many. Kangols! I look back at some of my style choices and just SMH at what they were attempting to say “Sexy?” “B-girl steez?” “I’M DIFFERENT!” “New New Yorker in college that doesn’t live with my mom so I can wear what I want?” For a long time my style was speaking for me and how I wanted people to see me. Eventually I’d be lucky enough to have the opportunity to work with a number of dope stylists on different projects who helped me to get closer to my own voice. I’d learn different tips and tricks along the way, like the hair look is a part of the whole look, and that I can pretty much never go wrong in green, or my own rule, the “I’m giving you_______” principle of color blocking. For instance, if I’m wearing two different versions of pink, I feel like I’m not matching. However, if I hit you with three versions, it ain’t that I’m not matching, I’m just “giving you pink.” I live by this to this day, LOL.

  Another rule is that a label doesn’t make it fly. Too often, I see folks in a look that is not flattering and wonder why they wore that, then it all becomes clear: It’s by some designer. Money don’t make it fly. When you see celebrities in brands that are considered luxury, sure they may be better quality fabric, or construction, but at the end of the day it’s about what looks good on you. Don’t let that be determined by what comes out of your wallet. Instead let it be determined by how it makes you feel. I clown my Kangols now, but back then they really made me feel like myself. I was a true B-girl and hip-hop head at heart, and it was a key component to my uniform.

  When I first got on MTV2 I had peers who told me I needed to start dressing differently now that I was on my way to being a celebrity. They told me I had to stop wearing sneakers all the time and start rocking stilettos. I needed to cut out rockin my natural curl, press my hair, and wear it straight. There were all these rules and none of them felt right for me. So where did I end up? Right back in my Chucks
and Kangols, gold bangles, door knockers, and I was a showstopper!

  Still, so much about knowing your style is knowing yourself, and that is an ever-changing process. Every time you leave the house to go somewhere of note, you want to have the confidence of knowing you’re at your best. You want to walk into a room as if upon leaving your house you took one last look in the mirror and a masterfully stylish black gay man named La’Travius popped up and said, “Yasssssssss biiiiiiiiiiiiihhhhhhhhhh,” then sent you on your way. After a certain point my Kangols were no longer feeling La’Travius-approved when I looked in the mirror, and I went through that awkward stage we all go through in grade school, but as a full-on adult in my late twenties. Even though I always know how to identify and articulate my point of view about seemingly everything, when it came to fashion, I could never find my own words. I didn’t have them because in my constant quest to define myself, and my work, and my brand, and yada yada yada, I became more concerned about how my look spoke to others than how it spoke to me. It was designer Sharufa Rashied-Walker of JINAKI that changed that.

  In 2012 we were introduced via a mutual acquaintance who felt we’d work well together. Sharufa began dressing me in her designs for events but would add pieces from my closet to bring the look together. I would always be amazed at how she’d uncover gems from my drawers and put them in looks in ways that I never would have imagined. Finally, one afternoon when we were doing a fitting, I asked her, “How do you do it? How do you turn these particles in my closet into pieces? How do you give these typically inane items identity?” She told me I needed to change my perspective. “You’re a painter. In your work you do all this dope stuff with color on the canvas. You gotta dress yourself with the same vision. Think of yourself as the canvas. Create art with your clothes.” A lightbulb went on. It was like I’d successfully completed Rosetta Stone for the unstylish. The sky opened up and rained down ideas. I know that may sound like some existential BS to some, but how I was viewing myself truly changed and redefined how I approached style, and how it represented me.