Jarrod's 'Hair': A Narrative Fiction

I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulder like a young cadet. Her gray sun strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, disconcerted face.” Nothing in those lines expresses the excitement and passion that a man whose truly attracted to a woman displays when they are interested and wants to date you. There was definitely no butterflies in his stomach for

There has been a notable amount of conversation on the internet on the rebirth of the natural hair movement. Cherise Luter (2014) states that despite afros and the natural hair movement not being a new concept (i.e. the Black Power Movement), it has gone under what she calls a “refreshing change”. Furthermore, what used to be “I’m black and I’m proud”, has been replaced with “I’m me and I’m proud” (Luter 2016). So, what is the natural hair movement? It is defined as a movement where black women decide to not conform to the social norms of chemically altering their hair and wearing it in its natural, kinky, or curled state (Joignot 2015). The movement could also be considered as an outlet for black women to display their racial and cultural pride or to articulate their “political position (Brown 2014:297). However, simply the terminology “movement” is something that should be shocking to many. There is a great amount of historical context behind the continuous influence Eurocentric beauty ideals have had on black women for centuries. According to Nadia Brown (2014), Black natural hair throughout history has proven to be recognized as “either unintended or intended personal and political statements” (298). the beauty standard in Western society which praises European hair textures, has influenced many black women to be critical of other black women who choose to chemically straighten their hair, accusing them of being subservient to the dominant and pervasive racist

“How come y’all ain’t scared of us like you were Dally?” Johnny said. He had that scared look in his eyes, that told me he’d been badly hurt, but I could only tell because I had that same look for weeks after my mother died. I sighed, “You two are too sweet to scare anyone. First of all, you didn’t join in Dallas’s dirty talk, and you made him leave us alone. And when we asked you to sit up here with us, you didn't act like it was an invitation to make out for the night. Besides that, I’ve heard about Dallas Winston, and he looked as hard as nails and twice as tough. And you two don’t look mean.”

The poem, “Black Hair,” by Gary Soto describes a childhood of a boy looking back on how he compared himself to his favorite baseball player’s. The speaker gives many rich images stating how the boy compares himself to the baseball players. The three vivid images that prodded out at me were, “I came here because I was Mexican” this is him comparing himself to a dark skin baseball player, “At eight I was brilliant with my body”, and “Growing sweaty in the presence of white shirts”.

John told her about each bull he had rode and about Kit. Kit and Caroline went to the same college. Caroline is shocked to find out that Kit is interested in Rodeos. John was then very confused because Kits father had been a professional bull rider and Kit had grown up around the sport. Caroline explains that Kit is openly gay and is active on campus in groups that support gay rights. Learning this made john’s thoughts race with confusion about Kit and himself. John spent the next few days just working and avoiding everyone while his mind still raced with thoughts of Kit. The only way he could be at peace was to go out on a horse

I wanted to start of the event with this video. I made it a few weeks ago. When I started working on this project I really thought that this was a minority only problem and I wanted to focus on Hispanics because of my Colombian decent. I wanted to honor my roots while embracing my American life style. But it was Monday night, a slow day at a beautiful restaurant overlooking the ocean city somersault bridge and I was polishing glass for my side work and chit chatting with my coworkers. I was specifically talking to a co work. American. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. About 40 years old. I was telling her about my Tuesday plan that was handing out exit surveys at a polling location. She was confused. I said yes the primaries are tomorrow (this was Monday

The music blared so loud through the speakers at the bar and grill MacGowan's Haven, that Alannah Chambers worked at that she had to shout in order for her customers to hear her. "What would you like sir?" She yelled at the middle aged man on the other side of the counter. He was a heavy set man with thinning salt and pepper colored hair and thick glasses, he wore faded blue jeans and a blue shirt that looked like it seen better days. Lots of them. He had a mustard stain on his shirt too that he hadn't bothered to wipe up. "Uh, I'll take a beer and a piece of that ass babe," he said, and grinned wickedly at her. If it had been a few years sooner, Alannah would have ignored him, but not this time, she was done with little-miss-shy-girl that

“Sex is something I really don’t understand too hot. You never know where the hell you are. I keep making up these sex rules for myself, and then I break them right away. Last year I made a rule that I was going to quit horsing around with girls that, deep down, gave me a pain in the ass. I broke it though, the same week I made it- the same night, as a matter of fact” (63).

His looks didn’t hurt either. Or so he’d been told by, Paul Felder, the Math’s lecturer, who’d heard a couple of the Form nine girls gossiping about him class at the end of the previous year, and which for a week or two had been the subject of staff room ribbings. All teachers were the subject of adolescent infatuation, or crushes at one time or another, and Michael had laughed along with his peers. His wife of five years, Amy, had also found it hilarious, and teasingly assured him that it had more to do with his age; 35, which probably made him appear ancient and wise to the students; than his

“You bet your ass I am, peasant.” I replied with a wink. Jackie rolled her eyes and he laughed loudly. Together the three of us approached the house. Jackie pushed open the screen door and greeted the crowd of people, mainly guys, enthusiastically.

The 1960’s appear as one of the strong points in Carolingian studies with several notable books arriving in 1962 and a few others later on. Starting with Eleanor Duckett, in one of her last books, Carolingian Portraits: A Study in the Ninth Century, written in 1962, she paints an interesting picture of the Carolingians. Her main interests lie with the study of early medieval saints, but her discussion of Louis the Pious and several Carolingian clergy prove important to the historiography. Her argument that Louis, although a strong emperor to begin with, gave too much power to the church and the Carolingians lost their empire because of this. Next in the vast historiography comes J.M. Wallace-Hadrill’s The Long-Haired Kings, also written in 1962, which gives an important viewing into France/Gaul before the Carolingians attained the right to be named king. His use of sources such as Gregory of Tours, Fredegar, and Hincmar, are among the best in the 1960’s. His interests in the book heavily lie in lawmaking with a significant portion dedicated to how the Carolingians viewed the Lex Salica and a few other important documents.

His steps were light, the smile on his face beamed brightly, and the Army veteran felt giddy as he walked back towards Zai, the last from the effects of the alcohol he'd drunk, or for the woman he proffered his hand to, and requested to dance, he wasn't certain. Most likely the latter. He'd had his fun on the pool-table, and had enjoyed showing off for her, and allowing her to witness a Kyle that she possibly hadn't seen previously. He'd sensed her eyes upon him as he played, and loved every moment of it, the glances and smiles they'd exchanged as with his arms outstretched on the felt, and his eyes lining up the next shot, he'd looked up, and there she'd appraising him. And, in return, he'd done the same when she was unaware.

When the room started to bleed around the edges and the air began to taste overwhelmingly stale, our gracious host turned to my companion and I, and adopting a formality that was indicative of a more serious intent, said “I think you two better head out.” Up until that moment, we had been content, as well as confident, in our position as contracted performers at this boy’s circus. After all, we had been invited in as strangers, while everyone else there came along consistently with the afternoon post. However, it seemed we proved a bit too strange, as the sidelong stares had steadily increasing as the evening wore on and our glasses drained. In the space between him and the rest of the room, we reached a mutual understanding, and my small party collected what we could of our belongings without complaint. It was clear Emma and I were no longer welcome, though the gay celebration was far from winding down. This shame brought

And even when I’ve seen some males that identify as feminine, I still wouldn’t date them if they were dressed in feminine clothing because their facial outline and body are still too masculine for me. But with you, your bone structure is not masculine at all,” he told her with a more clear thought process of why there was an attraction to her. It was back and forth with their assertive actions towards each other because Johnny now took the lead in leaning in to lightly press his cheek against one of hers. He pressed his cheek into hers for a few moments taking in the smell of her. In return, she was taking in his cologne and manly pheromone. His pheromone began to change her physiological reactions, and when Johnny went for the gold, the kiss of the evening, he pressed his lips against hers, but what hit his lower appendage…sent him into a stage of ecstasy that he had longed for since that one night in his senior year of high school. What hit him was Clarissa’s lower appendage, and Johnny had now finally realized the balance of maleness with a feminine body type and heart. Heavy kissing and pressing up against each other’s bodies was all that occurred at the Oceanside Pier that

After flipping off the switch to my cheap, red Revlon hair dryer, I took one glance in the mirror and noticed my hair looked exactly as expected: terrible. My dark brown curls were separated, flattened, and all the volume had been suctioned out. My once-voluptuous locks were now dry and brittle noodles. I have never had great experiences with hair dryers. Honestly, how could I? I have fine, curly hair that frizzes at the very touch of my fingers. Some days it looks like a rat’s nest, other days it looks like five rat’s nests all got into a fight over whose nest could look the dirtiest. So let me explain to you the extent of a mess in which I deal with on the daily.