#detroit model
Had a fashion video shoot and a meeting with my unicorns today. Brows was on fleek and nobody could tell me shit sooooo I’d say today was a good day
www.beautyandthemuse.net
IG: Lvernon2000
Post link
Waaaaaaaait This photo embodies how much fucks I don’t give to naysayers. To Islamaphobes. To people who like to comment on how I promote obesity and fat shame me regularly, saying I’d be much cuter if I was ‘smaller’. To the people who say I’m not Muslim enough. To the people who slide into my inbox saying how they wanna do lunch but wasn’t with me when I was down, out, and had no self-worth but now find me 'of value’ now that I got a little media play. To the people who told me that there was enough writers already and to get a 'real’ job. To the people who used to be my friends but went ghost because of their own insecurities. And to the folks that just plain don’t like me because I slay super easily. Heeeeeey Photo: @remy_me Model: Leah Vernon Turban: @flossyssuitcase
Post link
This “Eat. Pray. Love” trip in London is coming to an end. I began this journey as a rebellion against myself. I always said, I could never fly overseas by myself. I’d be way too scared. How would I navigate without knowing anyone? What if something bad happened and no one would be there to help? All these super negative and overly exaggerated thoughts. Y'all know that little voice. I kept focusing on all the ‘bad’ possibilities instead of the good what ifs. I was so afraid to do a lot of things last year because of fear, but I made a promise that I was going to do that less in 2017. This trip was that promise. Massive turbulence on the flight in (yes, I thought I was gonna die), to my wallet being stolen (don’t worry, I’m taking care of it. All is not lost!), and walking so much with a 30plus pound backpack that wore my back and legs out (Extra strength Tylenol was my bae), none of that compared to the faces I connected with, the music I danced to, the stories I wrote, and the kiss on the back of a 2-tiered bus I shared. This year, I’m gonna keep the momentum going. Even though I’m gonna have my moments. I’m growing and learning and looking quite fashionable simultaneously. How does that girl do it?
IG: Lvernon2000
www.beautyandthemuse.net
Post link
“I’m so tired of hearing about race.” “Black this. White that.” “I have black friends…” “I’m from the hood, too.” “See the problem is with you people…”
See, I’m also tired of talking about race. I’m tired of being paid 30% less than a white dude. I’m tired of being profiled because of the body I was placed in at birth. I’m tired of the “You People” statements. I’m tired of the I-have-black-friends and the my-child-is-bi-racial statements as if that meant shit. As if that meant you weren’t a culture vulture, bigoted, or still racist to infinity and beyond.
You know what else I’m tired of? Seeing my black boys and girls shot in the face, necks strangled, suffocated, beaten to a bloody pulp, and out of all that, justice still not served in their honor.
I’m tired of the systematic oppression that most of y'all don’t like to see, uncomfortable with talking about and acknowledgement of an oppressive, bloody, capitalist, slave-based system that brings us to today and other troll like comments from so-called Americans.
So, before you feel tired of People of Color talking about race relations, human equality, and/or other struggles, step into my shoes of living in fear, or better yet, step into my great-great grandmothers slave shoes and keep your mouth shut.
IG: Lvernon2000
Photo: @remy_me
Location:@orleansandwinder (Detroit, MI)
Post link
From my father making fun of me for being “chubby” when I was small to hating the way my thighs rubbed together when I walked, I hated entering public spaces. I used to do this thing where I’d tip-toe up the stairs, open the door really, really slowly then creep into the scene so that no one would see me.
My anxiety stemmed from not wanting to be noticed. Why? In my head, there was nothing to see. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t cute or smart. I couldn’t fit into those tiny frayed denim shorts from Abercrombie like all the other girls. I was just a blob in men’s clothing because Mom ain’t have the money or resources to find clothes for her obese daughter.
I was always obsessed with models on the catwalk and watched America’s Next Top Model religiously. I’d put on an old pair of heels and in my pajamas, I’d put my hands on my fat waist and strut. Click. Click. Click. The thick heels sounded on Mom’s wooden floor. I’d be on my own personal runway. Some sort of star. I’d go in the bathroom, shut the door, and look in the mirror. I’d work my angles just like Tyra suggested to the size 4 models. I’d smile and tilt my head and try to elongate my fat neck. Not knowing that one day this fat neck and thighs that still rub together would be sort of a big deal.
I look at fear differently. It was all in my head. I was so afraid of what other people thought of my round body that I made myself sick. Now, there’s no fear when I step into a room. I burst in that bitch. I smile, arch my back, and strut, a party, Wal-Mart. My runway ain’t in Mom’s house anymore in a little girls head. My runway IS the entire world.
Kind of iconic if you ask me
IG: Lvernon2000
Post link
On the blog, we get real raw. I talk about my struggle with hijab and soooo much other stuff. Excerpt below to entice you. My hijabis and non-hijabis and people who’ve always been curious about the hijab let’s discuss.
“For me, growing up, the hijab was so closely connected to the identity of being a Muslim woman. We looked down upon girls who didn’t opt to wear the hijab. We called them weak. Ostracized them. Questioned their faith and asked what was so hard about wearing it. I mean, hadn’t they loved Allah? We had been conditioned to predict whether or not you were a ‘good’ Muslim based on a cloth that covered your hair and neck. I fell into that trap, that mentality, until I was faced with the same challenge: to wear or not to wear.”
IG: Lvernon2000
Post link
