When I was young, the first thing I would tell people I wanted to be when I finally grew up was a fashion designer. I just knew one day I would graduate from high school, and be enrolled at some fashion institute in New York. That was the dream.
Naturally, being interested in fashion, and with people constantly commenting on my height, I started saying I wanted to be a model too. Many times I imagined myself walking down a runway, wearing my own shit. It was so clear to me. I had it all figured out.
As a little girl I feel like growing up we all either wanted to be a model, actress, singer etc – and back then being a model was my aim until I started watching America’s Next Top Model, and I found out they actually preferred you to be a certain height and weight. I thought, “Well if I have to change who I am to be who I want, then maybe I shouldn’t be a model…” It took me a while to finally get comfortable with my weight and body by that time because I was heavier, so I felt like all that change wasn’t really worth it.
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Fast forward to my early teenage years – this you could say was about 2008-09 and I started getting into watching music videos. I would look at some of the vixens and compare myself. I wanted to be them. I remember thinking “Hey I can do that,” which was doing nothing but looking dolled up and being cute in front of a camera. There I was again, dreaming. I watched MTV Jams a lot back then and I was just always enticed by the glamour and how they portrayed that lifestyle. I remember that documentary they made about video girls – the well-known ones like Vida Guerra, Melyssa Ford, Buffy the Body, Tae Heckard (fave), Tomika Skanes, Bria Myles, etc. This one scene had me so hype. I think it was Melyssa who was being filmed and she bought this real expensive bag or some shit, then had like a video shoot or came from a video shoot or something. It was like she was getting paid for being pretty. I wanted to do that shit too: get paid for being pretty. My confidence was on 1000 and I swore I was going to be in someone’s video. I was positive it would be me someday.
To this day, I still have this passion for being a model. I guess I always had this thing for being lusted after and desired, but it’s not just the image for me now – but all this time, that’s all it’s ever been. Clearly back then it was the image that I was after. The glamour. The fame. Money. Not really knowing what may or may not have gone on behind the scenes with these model’s. And even though that’s still a common theme in this generation, that’s not what I’m going for.
First off, what we call a model today is not anything close to what I’m trying to be. All you have to do these days to be considered a model is hire a photographer for about two to three hundred dollars, find a makeup artist – which is really not hard to do, buy some bundles, take some pics in a hotel room in your bra and panties or one of those Ali Express outfits, put some booking info in your bio and motherfuckers will believe you. Or more commonly, you could take the bottle waitress/ stripper route, stack your bread, get whatever connects you can from the club, take some pics and there you have it. Moreover, you can just sell your box.
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No shade to my bottle waitresses and strippers though because I was going to do that same shit until I realized how hard it actually was to even become a bottle girl. I tried countless times but that shit just wasn’t in the books for me so I gave all the way up. I’m glad I did too, because realistically, I wasn’t going to be in anybody’s club, walking around, dealing with and talking to people – trying to act like I’m interested and care about their fucking life for some tips. That’s just not who I am, I was never really a people person and I am so shit at faking it so, nope.
I knew I had more talent, potential and creativity for that bullshit, so I took my ass (painfully) back to the drawing board. I was broke with no hope, but I knew I was on the right path.
Now me, I’m not going to knock a woman for how she’s getting it because as long as you can take care of yourself and your family, that’s all that matters. That’s what we’re all trying to do at the end of the day. But me? I’m not going to try to force myself to do some shit just because it worked out for the next bitch. If I even see a bitch wearing some shoes that I wanted, I will compliment her but I will likely never try to go cop them ever, But I digress…
I did not write this letter to lament about women that sell their box or work at the club because at the end of the day these women had what I wanted. I salute them for getting it. I’m just trying to be known for more than what it comes with. I always told myself that if I ever became a model, I don’t want to be known just for my face and/or my body – because I know I have so much more to offer, and I feel like what’s on the inside of me is way more beautiful than anything I could ever portray to the world on the outside. That’s what makes me different.…but it’s 2022 though and nobody is every checking for inner beauty. It’s very rare that they would. It’s all about what you have or what you appear to have.
As humans, we tend to fall a lot for how something looks. We get caught up in what seems to be – based on what only the naked eye can see. We don’t care what it comes with, we just know that it’s pretty and it’s a good look for us. Like a new bag or a pair of sunglasses or some shit. We don’t care that it’s gonna cost us a stack or some self respect, we just want it. Just like relationships.
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Both males and females (sometimes) go after one another based solely on what they look like. For instance, I feel like the most sexualized and sought after human being is the one that’s mixed with curly hair. Or a bitch with a fat ass and a thigh gap. Or some other stupid shit that has no relevance at all to any meaningful contribution to a healthy relationship. Yes it’s cute – we all know that certain shit is cute but once they bring the baggage – whatever it may be, it’s stressful. It’s hard. It hurts. We like how it looks but we really don’t wanna deal with the shit once we know what it’s about. We’re not willing to sacrifice what we were conditioned to know and just deal with people out of the pureness of their heart – as if it makes you a weak individual to let go of your ego. Either way you gonna pay, but motherfuckers always go for the price of the image instead of the price of truly being happy. And people actually rather be cheap than be happy for free.
My thing is, I feel like I’ve been around far longer than 29 years, so what’s cool and what’s hip now was probably cool to me some light years ago – that’s how old and forced a lot of what’s going on feels to me. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been here and have done that. There’s nothing new under the sun or so I’ve been told. I believe this is what we’re all searching for. Something original. Something fresh. Something real. In whatever form.
As a woman, I feel. As an empathetic and sensitive woman, I feel all things simultaneously. And as an empathetic woman with an old soul I feel like I felt anything and everything I could possibly feel in 100 lifetimes – and now I just want to go back to my pure, natural state.
They say our natural state is happiness. Our natural state is unconditional love. That’s all I’m going for. And once I get it, I don’t plan to keep it to myself because they say a soul in it’s natural state is also grateful and generous. Once I get to the state of pure love and happiness, I plan to share it and inspire others (especially those like me) to do the same – so I can show them that all is possible in the mirage of a world we live in.
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Writing is my first love. Writing is my real passion. Writing for me is freedom. Writing is my art. Writing is the purest way in which I can express my true self thoroughly and honesty – and if my words and who I am could genuinely touch one person in a way no one else can, then my job will mostly be done. Ultimately, that is my goal.
If I ever make something big of myself, I don’t want little girls to idolize me for what I may have. Instead, I want her to know I was just like her. I want her to read my words and know that whatever she can imagine is possible, and it’s perfectly okay to be different. I want her to know she doesn’t have to fit in or move for the crowd. I want her to see beyond the masks and facades people use and try to feel and understand what may be going on, on the inside. I want her to know it is better to be invested in and valued than it is to be bought and sold. I want her to know that she can be smart, sexy, independent, spiritual, confident, and vulnerable all at the same time. I just want her to know that there’s so much more than what our eyes allow us to see. I want her to be courageous enough to feel how she feels, and say how she feels, then be creative enough to use whatever special gifts she has to make hers and those around her lives’ far better than when they met her.
That’s the kind of model I want to be.
