

“You’re shaming the ancestors by being ashamed of your hair.”
Intimidating words from a natural hair influencer I scrolled past on Instagram. They’re also a thought process I fully believed well into my late 20s – or so I thought.
My early years at Howard University didn’t agree with my lifestyle. My hair was big, but fine. Long, but not flexible. Workable, yet disobedient. Aside from not having time to bargain with mischievous curls ahead of 8 a.m. classes, the peer pressure was on another level. Howard girls have been known to carry themselves in the best-polished light. We’re changemakers in society, but trendsetters on the regular. It’s a vain, materialistic truth that I’m not ashamed to be proud of. So I questioned, who was I to contradict a century-long stereotype?
Natural hair after keratin treatment Courtesy
For years, I fought against getting a perm. Health concerns aside, it just felt categorically “anti-Black.” On the other hand, I was completely over my 4B hair and the disrespect it came with: constant frizz, never behaving, and never blending with my sew-ins. My frustration became a gateway into damaging habits. For a time, I got sew-ins and resorted to perming my leave out just to avoid the hassle. It was desperate (and embarrassing), but had to be done in order to withhold what an HU woman represented.
Moving to Los Angeles birthed an even more empowered version of myself. If you’ve ever been a Black woman living in LA, you know the standard of beauty is very monolithic. Ironically, the shared resentment we have from being mistreated based on misogyny is also what bonds us. Sometimes, it feels like wearing our type 4 hair loud and proud is a boisterous “F you” to society. Unfortunately, that pride comes with a lot of responsibility.
Keratin treatment
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Black women have an unspoken duty to love themselves no matter what. We side-eye women who wear colored contacts. We categorize women who get BBLs. And people with nose jobs or Botox? Straight to jail. It felt impossible to find a safe place to be vulnerable about any of my physical insecurities. Let’s be real. How can you picture something nicknamed “creamy crack” being socially acceptable? Many will say, “it’s just hair.”
But the conversation is bigger than that. Admitting I didn’t like one of the most obvious things that connected me to my culture was a painful reality to accept. I wasn’t allowed to feel or complain about it. I definitely wasn’t allowed to change it because I’d be “giving into the patriarchy’s standard of beauty,” meaning I didn’t love myself. So I forced myself to suffer through self-consciousness, afraid of displeasing MY people. That was until I heard about keratin treatments.
Applying keratin treatment
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Keratin treatments hit the scene in a very dramatic way. Primarily by people warning consumers about the risks that come with it. Many people don’t acknowledge that keratin is a protein that the body produces naturally. The treatment uses a keratin-based product that produces straighter and/or smoother hair (results vary depending on thickness and length). The formula typically has little to no smell, and rather than getting washed out, like the perming process, it’s sealed in with heat using a blowdryer, followed by several passes with a flat iron.
Call it fate (or TikTok’s algorithm), but the hysteria around it was too intriguing to ignore. A treatment that reduces frizz, adds shine, and can loosen curls with reduced breakage as the cherry on top? It sounded like the hair gods were finally listening. I had to get one.
Monica Jones of Beauty by Monica took me into her chair and under her wing. Though she educated me on the misconceptions behind keratin treatments and brought awareness to formaldehyde chemicals, my only thoughts were, is this actually going to work for me? Is this cheating? Can I still call myself a natural hair girly? Then it hit me. Does any of that really matter?
Hair washed after applying keratin treatment
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My hair is mine to do whatever I choose to do with it. Every crown is unique; no one’s is one size fits all. After the first keratin treatment, my confidence blossomed. Yes, partly because my curls were visibly a level looser and allowed more versatile styles. But also because I evolved as a woman. Every relationship changes as we grow, whether for better or worse. I choose to take control of my relationships including the one with my hair. We got to re-introduce ourselves to each other, allowing a clean slate with more patience and compromise.
I threw away the outside noise that made me question my blackness. Embracing my natural hair was considered “living in my truth,” but ironically, that wasn’t the case for me. I was lying to myself and did more harm mentally with the pressures I adopted. We already face challenges day-to-day that are out of our control. We need to be open-minded to people with basically no "c" hair getting braids because “Black people can’t own a hairstyle.” We have to support non-Black women getting surgery to create the physical attributes Black women naturally have and were once called “ugly” for. We’re to be understanding of people getting spray tans cosplaying as mixed race to be racially ambiguous.
Post Keratin treatment
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Meanwhile, dark-skinned women are still getting blocked from certain nightclubs. For some reason, it’s socially acceptable for other ethnicities to not “live in their truth,” but not Black people. The short end of the stick is constantly handed to us by others with the expectation of just being grateful for an opportunity, acknowledgment, etc. If no one’s going to give us grace, we must grant it to ourselves.
There’s nothing shameful about wanting to change something about ourselves, whether it’s internal or external. Black women are the strongest people on this Earth. And while strength is found in acceptance, it also lives in vulnerability and our unapologetic pursuit of pleasing ourselves before anyone else.
Post Keratin treatment
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Eva Marcille On Starring In 'Jason’s Lyric Live' & Being An Audacious Black Woman
Eva Marcille has taken her talents to the stage. The model-turned-actress is starring in her first play, Jason’s Lyric Live alongside Allen Payne, K. Michelle, Treach, and others.
The play, produced by Je’Caryous Johnson, is an adaptation of the film, which starred Allen Payne as Jason and Jada Pinkett Smith as Lyric. Allen reprised his role as Jason for the play and Eva plays Lyric.
While speaking to xoNecole, Eva shares that she’s a lot like the beloved 1994 character in many ways. “Lyric is so me. She's the odd flower. A flower nonetheless, but definitely not a peony,” she tells us.
“She's not the average flower you see presented, and so she reminds me of myself. I'm a sunflower, beautiful, but different. And what I loved about her character then, and even more so now, is that she was very sure of herself.
"Sure of what she wanted in life and okay to sacrifice her moments right now, to get what she knew she deserved later. And that is me. I'm not an instant gratification kind of a person. I am a long game. I'm not a sprinter, I'm a marathon.
America first fell in love with Eva when she graced our screens on cycle 3 of America’s Next Top Model in 2004, which she emerged as the winner. Since then, she's ventured into different avenues, from acting on various TV series like House of Payne to starring on Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Je-Caryous Johnson Entertainment
Eva praises her castmates and the play’s producer, Je’Caryous for her positive experience. “You know what? Je’Caryous fuels my audacity car daily, ‘cause I consider myself an extremely audacious woman, and I believe in what I know, even if no one else knows it, because God gave it to me. So I know what I know. That is who Je’Caryous is.”
But the mom of three isn’t the only one in the family who enjoys acting. Eva reveals her daughter Marley has also caught the acting bug.
“It is the most adorable thing you can ever see. She’s got a part in her school play. She's in her chorus, and she loves it,” she says. “I don't know if she loves it, because it's like, mommy does it, so maybe I should do it, but there is something about her.”
Overall, Eva hopes that her contribution to the role and the play as a whole serves as motivation for others to reach for the stars.
“I want them to walk out with hope. I want them to re-vision their dreams. Whatever they were. Whatever they are. To re-see them and then have that thing inside of them say, ‘You know what? I'm going to do that. Whatever dream you put on the back burner, go pick it up.
"Whatever dream you've accomplished, make a new dream, but continue to reach for the stars. Continue to reach for what is beyond what people say we can do, especially as [a] Black collective but especially as Black women. When it comes to us and who we are and what we accept and what we're worth, it's not about having seen it before. It's about knowing that I deserve it.”
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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These 5 Simple Words Changed My Dating Life & Made It Easier To Let Go Of The Wrong Men
Dating in 2025 often feels like meandering through an obscure tropical jungle: It can be beautiful, exciting, and daunting, yet nebulous when you’re in the thick of it. When we can’t see the forest for the trees, we often turn to our closest friends, doting family, and even nosy co-workers for advice. While others can undoubtedly imbue a much-needed fresh perspective, some of the best advice you’re searching for already lies within you.
My dating life has been a whirlwind to put it mildly, and each time I’d heard a questionable response or witnessed an eyebrow-raising action from a potential beau, I’d overanalyze for hours despite the illuminating tug in my spirit or pit of my stomach churning. And then I’d hold a conference call with my trusted friends just to convince myself of an alternative scenario, even though I’d already been supernaturally tipped off that he was not in alignment with me.
Fortunately, five simple words have simplified my dating process and ushered in clarity faster: “Would my husband do this?”
A couple of years ago, I met an entertainment lawyer who was tonguing down a twenty-something-year-old woman for breakfast while I slurped my green smoothie and chomped on a flatbread sandwich. Okay, Black love, I grinned and thought as I sauntered out of the Joe & The Juice. As soon as I stepped down from the front door, a torrential downpour of Miami summer rain cascaded and throttled me back inside to wait out the storm.
I grabbed a hot green tea and vacillated between peering out the wet door and anxiously checking my watch. My lengthy agenda started with attending the Tabitha Brown and Chance Brown’s “Black Love” panel, and I was already late. That’s when the lawyer introduced himself to me, after he made a joke about neither one of us wanting to get soaked by the rain. His female companion had braved the storm, leaving us to find our commonalities.
We both lived in L.A. and had traveled to the American Black Film Festival to expand our network. He represented various artists, including entertainment writers, while I was working as a writer/creative producer in Hollywood.
While there is no shortage of internet advice on how to strategically meet a prominent man at conferences, if I spend my hard-earned funds on career growth, I have tunnel vision, and that doesn’t include finding Mr. Right. So, I stowed his contact details away as strictly professional.
As the humidity and mosquitoes were rising around L.A., two months later, another suitor-turned-terrible match cooled off after three unimpressive dates and a bevy of red flags. I posted what some of my friends called a thirst trap, but it was really me wearing a black freakum jumpsuit with a plunging neckline to my friend’s 35th birthday soiree despite feeling oh, so unsexy and bloated on my cycle.
I’d been waiting to post a sassy caption and finally had the perfect picture to match: “You not asking for too much, you just asking the wrong MF.”
That’s when the entertainment lawyer swooped into my DMs and asked me to dinner. I was quite confused. Is he asking me on a date? Or is this professional? Common sense would’ve picked the former. Once it clicked that this would in fact be a date, I told my mentor, who’s been happily married for over twenty years and has often been a guiding light and has steered me away from the wrong men.
Upon telling him about how we met, he emphatically stated, “He ain’t it.” He followed up with a simple question, "You have to ask yourself: Would my husband do this? Would you tell others that you met your husband, tonguing down another woman, and later married him?"
Ouch. The thought-provoking question cleared any haze. Prior to going out with the lawyer, the first thing I inquired about was the woman.
“You saw that?” He said, taken aback that I’d witnessed his steamy PDA. Surely, anyone with two open eyes peeped him caressing her backside as he kissed her in the middle of the coffee shop.
He brushed her off as a casual someone he’d gone on a couple of dates with but had since stopped talking to. He said he hadn’t been in a serious relationship in over three years. Though I was still doubtful, dating in L.A. is treacherous and ephemeral. Making it past three months is considered a rarity.
With my antennae alert, I dined with him at a cozy beachside steakhouse restaurant where we were serenaded by a live jazz band. I’d emphasized forming a platonic friendship first.
“I’ll come to you,” he obliged. I liked that he had made me a priority by driving over 50 miles to see me. I also liked the effort he made to check in with me daily. But I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that he initiated on a professional pretense and then alley hooped through the back door on a romantic venture, which bombarded me with confusion.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my dating life, God is not the author of confusion; any man who brings confusion, rather than clarity, is simply not The One. It doesn’t matter how many boxes he checks–eventually, that confusion will manifest itself into bigger problems, in time.
After diving into deeper conversations on the phone, post our first dinner date, I quickly realized this man was indeed not The One for me. But I’m grateful for the valuable lesson I learned.
I don’t expect some unattainable fairytale of a husband; we all have our own flaws and conflict is inevitable, but after dating for two decades, through failure and success, I’ve realized that the person I ultimately marry must mirror the values I exert into the world. He must reciprocate kindness, patience, and respect. He must be quick to listen and slow to respond. He needs to be forgiving and trustworthy, practice healthy communication, and be a man of his word at the bare minimum.
If I’d had “Would my husband do this?” in my toolbox when I was dating and floundering in stagnant relationships, in my twenties, it would’ve saved me a lot of precious time. But now that I’m equipped with the reminder, it’s allowed me to ground myself in my non-negotiables and set/maintain the standard for the special person, I’ll one day say, “I do,” to.
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