"So you just gon' leave your hair and your husband in 2017?!"
I couldn't help but to burst out laughing as I looked back at my big sister's face on my phone screen. It showed a hilarious mixture of shock and amusement as we had an impromptu FaceTime sesh' that December day. I had just posted a not-so mysterious Snap on my Facebook page. All you could see in the photo frame was a pile of freshly cut hair in a sink and bold words that read, "So, I did a thing…"
Two months after choosing to separate from my husband, I had decided to chop my hair off.
And yes, the cut was most certainly symbolic.
At this point, only my close friends and family knew what was going on and no one took me seriously. The hair I was carrying on my head sprouted at the same time our relationship blossomed. It carried the memories of our love when it was unassuming and new. But it also carried the pain I began to feel as our relationship aged, and it kept getting heavier and heavier until that day in December when I decided to let it all go. When I chose to let go of my hair, I was also letting go of my marriage, which I realized had stopped serving me a long time ago.
The early years of our relationship were the sweetest, even without much romance. We were sharing our college experience and falling in love to a backdrop of weed, fast food, and normal young adult nonsense. I noticed that he showed very few signs of being ready for a real relationship but I figured that would change over time. We were having fun together and that was all I needed at the time. When he didn't even bat an eye after I chopped my hair into a Pixie cut and then transitioned to natural hair all in our first year dating, I was convinced he was the one!
In hindsight, I placed way too much value on how he handled my first big chop and didn't pay enough attention to signs that things may not have been as sweet as I thought they were.
As we approached our one year mark of dating, he took a few involuntary vacations, we had blown through tons of my money with no real plan and the romance was non-existent. But he still complimented me on my twist-outs, praised my natural beauty and wasn't a complete ass-hole, so in my mind that was good enough. It was so good in fact, that I decided to marry him despite the glaring red flags that maybe we weren't even close to ready.
My coping mechanisms for life's bullshit are to smile bigger, find the rainbows and sunshine, and suppress like crazy.
This got me through many trying times, but it also made it easier for me to deal with much more than I should have in my marriage. Not even a year after exchanging vows my with husband, I wrote this passage in an old journal:
"I mean, I feel like I'm the only one bustin' my butt tryna make us get to a happy place, but all he's concerned about is hoopin' & eatin...All I want to see is that he cares for & loves me more than he loves himself but all I've got to show for our love is this notebook!"
The frivolity of our relationship was revealing itself early on and I can recall numerous talks we had over the years about what he wasn't providing or changes I felt we needed to make as a unit. Unfortunately though, all of those pleas fell on deaf ears, even after having our two children in the 2nd and 4th year of our marriage. And despite this, I kept on smiling and being foolishly optimistic with no real evidence of things changing.
In 2016, the resentment and unhappiness I had suppressed for so long began to surface. I tried to ignore it but as I poured all the love I had into my two children, and my husband, I started to feel how much I was missing within myself.
One morning in October, I had finally woken up to how bad things were in our life together. As I drove him to work, I made a comment to him about his attitude and treatment of the women in his life and he immediately dismissed it. I looked at him and saw the irritation etched into his face and for a split second, I believed that I was wrong. That thought faded quickly though. I had to stop and ask myself how could someone I had given nothing but unconditional love to be so aloof to my feelings and the battles I was so obviously fighting?
A few days later, I finally worked up the courage to tell him we needed to separate.
My mind was made up and now his pleas were falling on deaf ears. I was done ignoring the early red flags simply because at least he loved my natural hair. I no longer believed that I could teach him how to give me the romance I was craving, or that I could make him really believe in my vision once I started making real money from my hustles. I knew that the only thing we could do at this point was to separate and he was not going to convince me otherwise.
It was one of the hardest decisions I have made yet, but one that I am proudest of.
I finally found the courage to stand up for myself and act on the feeling in my gut telling me I deserved better.
Fast forward to December. During our separation, I was forced to really think about my hair and how much I hid behind it in both the literal and physical sense. The confidence that I felt in my natural hair journey was superficial because it developed from my husband's approval. It felt forced and I felt like a fraud.
So on that December night, I placed my hair in six twists and cut them off one by one at the roots without a second thought. I remember the fear I felt in my heart as I was twisting my hair just melting away as I looked in the mirror and saw a shell of the woman I thought I would become. I knew that once I cut my hair I would really be cutting off any connection to the lies I had been telling myself over the years. I would finally begin the real process of healing. As I cut off each twist, I felt lighter and lighter and knew this was just what I needed.
I left my husband and my hair in 2017.
While I never saw it coming, it wasn't because the signs weren't there. For years, I practically begged for romance, for him to take the lead in our lives, for him to push me and be as supportive of my dreams as I was of his, but to no avail. We rarely had the really hard conversations and when we did, there was a lack of change afterward. He took me for granted and gave me a surface level love that was just enough to make me content.
So with my choice to cut my hair and make a bold move to serve myself, I also made the courageous choice to leave behind complacency in my love life. I chose to do what I needed in order to fall in love with my damn self so that I could honor the woman I once was and who I was striving to be.
xoNecole is always looking for new voices and empowering stories to add to our platform. If you have an interesting story or personal essay that you'd love to share, we'd love to hear from you. Contact us at submissons@xonecole.com
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The essence of effortless poise and refinement shines bright through the iconic university colors of indigo blue, red, and white. Every October, Howard University students, alumni, staff, and friends gather on the prestigious campus in Washington, D.C. to take part in time-honored traditions and events, which is Homecoming. This year's theme, “The Meccaverse,” was a week-long celebration of Howard University’s heritage, including the Homecoming football game and Bison Pep Rally, the Fashion Show, Greek Life Step Show, Homecoming Day of Service, Lavender Reception, and the iconic Yard Fest Concert.
As 2024 marked the 100th anniversary of the Howard Bison trek back to The Mecca and after two years of virtual events due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this was to be a celebration of a lifetime. We enlisted HU alumnus Sharmaine Harris, a luxury retail buyer, as she revisited her alma mater as eyes on the yard for fashion-forward outfits mixed with personal style and campus pride for the weeklong celebration.
Before we get to the looks, discover how attending Howard University impacted her career in fashion and her day-to-day style:
Credit: Sharmaine and Friends
xoNecole: Describe your personal style. Did attending Howard have any impact on developing it?
Sharmaine: Howard taught me that there’s no such thing as being TOO dressed. There’s always a reason to “put it on” and look presentable, even if it’s just for a day of classes. Standing out was celebrated and encouraged with my peers embracing the opportunity, giving me the confidence to try new styles and trends.
xoNecole: How did Howard shape your career as a luxury buyer?
Sharmaine: I studied Fashion Merchandising, through which I was fortunate to have professors who were very connected to the industry and able to give first-hand accounts of opportunities and what to expect post-college. I was also able to build a network through my peers and other Howard Alum, which has opened doors to endless possibilities both within fashion as well as daily life.
The same confidence instilled in me through my style has also been rooted deeply within me as I step into any role or project I’m faced with throughout my career.
xoNecole: This year marked Howard’s 100th-anniversary Homecoming celebration. Can you describe what the weekend looked and felt like?
Sharmaine: I’ve gone to many Howard Homecomings since graduating, but this year’s 100th anniversary felt like a huge family reunion filled with nothing but love. It was beautiful to see so many Bison return home looking great and radiating joy. It was beautiful!
xoNecole: What makes Howard fashion different from other HBCUs?
Sharmaine: Being that Howard is The Mecca, we have such a diverse population with each individual having their own spin on fashion. Getting dressed is second nature for us, but the layered confidence is our secret ingredient to make any look come together. Through that comfortability to push barriers, we have a legacy of setting trends, as indicated by the many alumni we have in the fashion and entertainment industry.
Keep scrolling for the top street style moments from The Mecca's Homecoming weekend:
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Join us in celebrating HBCU excellence! Check out our Best In Class hub for inspiring stories, empowering resources, and everything you need to embrace the HBCU experience.
Featured image courtesy of Sharmaine Harris
I certainly don’t believe in shrinking the essence of who I am just to bag a man –whether in-person or online– including for the one thing that brings me pure joy: my worldwide adventures. By now, it’s common knowledge that social media is only a shiny highlight reel that doesn’t take into account all aspects of real life.
I’m fortunate that the men I date in my late 30s are mature enough to understand that notion, but in the past, I’ve learned the hard way that many men are, in fact, judging women’s social media accounts to determine if they are a perfect match.
While trying to stay afloat in grad school, I managed a week-long promotional gig for a festival concert. I stumbled across a breathtakingly handsome guy engrossed in curating melodic sound production as an audio engineer.
Bridgerton GIF by Gena ShowalterGiphyFine enough to giveBridgerton’s Regé-Jean Page a run for his money, this tall cutie had glistening caramel skin, big brown eyes, and a gorgeous smile that radiated across the conference center.
My heart practically stopped each time I glanced at him. I caught him conspicuously glancing my way throughout the day, too. Our energy was magnetic. I couldn’t let him get away without making it very apparent I was feeling him. Ten hours passed before we found ourselves drawing near one another. Dating co-workers is against my rules, however, dating someone I’ve met after completing a temporary gig was an exception I’d happily make.
Serotonin oozed throughout my body when he approached me. We engaged in meaningless talk, while I anticipated he’d ask for my number. Instead, he asked, “What’s your IG name?”
I’m old school; I want to get acquainted chatting on the phone until twilight–or on a well-executed romantic date. I accepted his request and followed him back. Baby steps.
Each time his adorable face popped into my mind, a rush of happiness flooded me. I’d already conducted a pre-check for a potential relationship, and based on absolutely nothing but chemistry, he had already passed. Scrolling through his page, I could see he had three, incredibly young children, from ages two to five. That’s okay, I can play step-mommy. Or so I thought.
Issa Rae Lol GIF by Insecure on HBOGiphyThe next morning, I swapped out my motivational morning gospel music for my vibey, R&B music. I floored the gas pedal, speeding to work in hopes of getting to the fine audio engineer as quickly as possible.
I sashayed through the conference doors with an extra sway in my hips–smitten and glowing as my bright eyes landed on him, standing by for sound check. He took one blistering look at me, and as time stood still, his scathing disapproval made me feel as though we were arch-enemies with unfinished business.
What happened in the less than twelve hours we met and were apart? I was flabbergasted by his bait-and-switch of emotions. The only culprit, I surmised: freaking Instagram.
A few hours of him ducking and diving to avoid me passed. I put my grown woman panties on and marched over to him. He pretended he couldn’t see me through the corner of his eye, but judging from the nervous stiffening of his erect posture and locked jaw–even through his discomfort, he would have to face me.
“Hey, how’s it going? You’re different today,” I said casually, yet resolute, peering deep into his wide eyes.
“Well, you know, it’s cause you’re big time. I’m just a regular guy.” He quipped. Completely confused, I stared blankly at him, waiting for an explanation.
“Your Instagram...” He confirmed like I had full knowledge of his insecurities.
“If I had seen your page before I met you, I would’ve never tried to talk to you. I’m not good enough for you.”
I melted into a puddle of vexation. I wasn’t a celebrity or social media star. Hell, I didn’t even have more than 5,000 followers! I’m a regular girl who’s had a career in entertainment which has afforded me many opportunities to attend swanky events; I love upscale travel and dining at Yelp’s highest-rated star restaurants–and yes, I relish capturing those delicious moments. But at that time, I was a broke girl in grad school, making a few coins on the same gig I’m certain he was earning a pretty penny for.
He’d already taken over my thoughts, feelings, and body’s desires in a short twenty-four hours. Though he was far from aware of all the ways he had swept me off my feet without stepping foot on an actual date, the energy between us was undeniable. I literally couldn’t stop thinking about him and grinning since the moment I saw him, and I know for sure he felt the same. And now he’s thinking he isn’t good enough for me?
He was fine, humble, funny, had a sexy physique, and a lucrative career, yet for some ridiculous reason he’d convinced himself he could never be with a woman like me? I was floored. Typically, I’m not forward with men in the initial stages of dating. It’s important I feel highly desired and sought after before I explode candidly. But the world was going to absolutely know that day: “I like you. You’re someone I’d like to get to know. And you’re absolutely perfect for me.”
He sighed and relaxed his shoulders. I felt empowered, quelling his feelings of inadequacy. (Or temporarily, I shall say). I’d soon learn that if a guy was harboring major insecurities, the idyllic lines to boost his ego are merely fleeting.
Pumped up on an extra dose of courage, later that day, he asked for my number. And I delightfully obliged.
We spent a good amount of time expressing our mutual feelings towards each other and perused through calendar dates to see when our schedules would match up. He lived in Las Vegas, but working as an audio engineer for major events necessitated him to spend most of his year traveling across the country and internationally. Still, I was determined to make it work.
And yet, it didn’t work. Despite my insanely busy grad schedule, I was ready to trek to Vegas or whichever country he visited, except his insecurities overflowed like putrefying lava. I probed to see how involved he was with his baby mama. Ya know, normal stuff. Somehow, he took that as a jab.
“You don’t want to date me because I have three kids, huh?” Again, he left me confused and exhausted because I was absolutely ready to become a bonus mommy to the right one.
Despite the endless times I cleared up what he thought was a problem, boom! another insecurity flared up. Coddling a mid-thirties man, who had thee lowest self-esteem I’d ever encountered was dooming.
GiphyA few months passed and winter had descended upon the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. I’d just left a snazzy art gallery Chiwetel Ejiofor hosted for his independent movie premiere. Park City is a magical and frosty cold, picturesque town in January. Most of the festival events are situated on densely packed Main Street. I stepped my leather boots outside onto the icy, uphill sidewalk, with a platonic male friend in tow. My phone rang–it was audio engineer bae. I noticed his name and pushed decline.
“You ignoring me now when you could’ve easily picked up the phone?”
What in the hell?! I peered around on both sides of my street, cautiously nervous.
I hopped into the black SUV. The festival traffic moves slower than molasses. You could gingerly walk down the street and still beat a moving car. As the driver slowly peeled away, I glanced to the opposite side of the art gallery street; there I saw old bae, forlornly staring at me, saddened with puppy eyes in his hooded Parka. I was busted. In my defense, however, I hadn’t heard from him in months, and us dating was certainly a never-ever-going-to-happen-closed case.
How was I supposed to know he’d been watching me from 150 feet away? No human in their right mind would expect an immediate answer, but he did.
“Hey, sorry, but it’s really hectic; I gotta hurry to this next event.” I apologized despite not owing him one. If he’d crossed my mind at any point up until now, it’d be futile. His recurring insecurities ate at him and thus, swallowed any attraction or potential traction for us.
By the time my plane landed in sunny Los Angeles, he unfriended me on IG. Exhausted from the nonsensical mental gymnastics, I unfollowed him, too.
Finally, we agreed: the feeling is mutual, boo.
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