Author: christabelduah

Autonomy, Hold the Please

Wonder Woman

I have a big butt. This isn’t an opportunity to brag; it’s not a compliment. It is a fact of my life. Frankly, it’s the mark of the Duah Family alongside wit and sarcasm, but I digress. It—my butt—has not only shaped my wardrobe, but also my life. Let’s focus in on the latter, shall we.

Let me tell you of the anxiety I feel walking down my city’s streets in my own skin. I’ll tell you why I occasionally rethink wearing something I enjoy because I worry about being harassed in response.

I’ll tell you why I carry a blade with me at all times and why I get emotional every time I hear yet another story about a woman being killed or maimed or traumatized by a man for simply having the audacity to claim space for her own self.

Or maybe I don’t have to. Because if you’re a woman, you probably have your own stories. You’ve undoubtedly shared a time or two you were made to feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

You can likely recall the first time you were told to change around an extended male relative or “family friend” because young girls cannot simply be children where the mind’s of men have the potential to warp them into women.

You can remember a time you were at work and someone made some comment about your body or your hair or entered your personal bubble without being welcomed, all while thinking they were being disarming.  When in actuality, you’re angry inside because you do not enjoy being loomed over, but addressing this invasion of space just makes you seem “rude.” Or worse yet, “angry” if you’re both a woman AND black.

(Hey Tia, do you remember walking down Broad Street while two Black men old enough to be our fathers harassed us down several blocks? Do you remember crossing to the other side of the road to avoid the rumbling commentary about our figures and the sundresses we looked so attractive in? You might’ve forgotten how they continued shouting embarrassing obscenities while no one spoke up on our behalf. Were you as afraid and angry as I was that they would follow us further even as everyone watched? Or was it just me. Glad they didn’t!)

I enjoy running in my compression shorts when it’s hot because it’s hot until I almost stopped running at all after a White male trailed me in his car and blocked my path until I spoke to him.

Perhaps these men were sick the day the topics of sexism, harassment, consent, and misogyny were addressed in schools.

We instruct our daughter’s to hold their heads high like the queens they are and demand to be heard, seen, and paid like equals. But what about when they aren’t polite or demure or when they are assertive and loud? When their firm “No’s” are ignored, are we showing them that those attributes are just as worthy?

And then, we continue to drip toxic masculinity into our sons, passing off this cruel messaging as jokes and life lessons on how to be real men. Women are taught to dress down lest they be raped, yet men aren’t taught not to rape. They aren’t taught that if, maybe, she doesn’t want/need/have to speak to you, it is not your job to change her mind. And that speaking up about this doesn’t make her dramatic or bitter or worthy of a “well, you’re ugly anyway.”

The reason for this season. Children grow up and become the adults we see on the news.

Sometimes I am angry but, most often, I’m determined. Determined to voice my opinions on womanhood and all its facets because I want more for those who come after me. I argue for equality in pay much as I do the right to autonomy over our bodies. My younger sister has a big butt too. So do my cousin’s. So do many of my friends. And even for women whose bodies aren’t unfairly sexualized; they’re not granted immunity from wondering if their ownership over their physical space and voices will be respected or ignored.

I love men in all forms because I was raised by and surrounded by great examples of what men should and can be. I cherish the relationships I have with men and the positivity that they often bring until my life. But no more than I cherish myself. I value ownership over my body and the freedom over my decisions; to say no, go away, and leave me alone without needing to be polite.

I like my butt and I love dressing for my shape and for my happiness without being harassed for it or shamed in spite. I have a right to not smile when I’m happy or to not deign to respond when a man demands my presence—as if I should feel complimented. I don’t. In the immortal words of Tupac Shakur, “Since we all came from a woman, got our name from a woman and our game from a woman, I wonder why we take from our women, why we rape our women, do we hate our women?”

Well?

Women do not owe men their time, bodies, voice, or energy. Vice versa. Full stop.

P.S. And if you’re a truly a “nice guy,” let my rejection of you be my own loss and not a justification for you to degrade me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Imma Let You Finish But…

Musicology, You Didn't Ask Me, But...

In the final minutes of last night’s Grammy Awards, we see Adele accept the award for Record of The Year.

ANTI is Rihanna’s best album, but alas. 

Adele thanks her team and Beyoncé and declares that “…I want [Beyoncé] to be my mummy.”

This is true for most of us.

Faith Hill quips about wanting the same and announces the nominees for Album of The Year.

Lemonade obviously. Show over. Goodnig—

Except Faith says 25 and it feels like Election Night all over again.

It’s Super Bowl 51 Part Deux as I watched the Falcons flounder a 25 point lead. It is the Warriors blowing a 3-1 series (an event I, personally, may never recover from.) But most of all, it is the harsh reminder that Black (Women’s) Excellence always comes second.

Lemonade was a finely crafted, poignant anthology of the struggles and triumphs of black womanhood. We universally rejoiced in the power of “Freedom” and no-effs-given “Don’t Hurt Yourself” and mourned in the love and loss of “Pray You Catch Me” and  “Love Drought.” “Daddy Lessons” was a conversation on the influence on fathers in their daughters lives. There was a completeness in the album that, even for those who don’t regularly relish in its entirety, resonates but for a moment.

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And these are the ONLY two albums I actually own.

And 25 was another album of heartbreak songs.

It was a beautiful body work, but it was not artistically greater than Lemonade. Its impact and importance alone was not greater than Lemonade and is that not what the Recording Academy insists it highlights? I know this. You know this. Beyoncé knows this. Adele knows this and also announced this very sentiment to the world.

Know Your Worth

Notes To Self

originally written on April 9, 2016

I have supported myself through college by working as a server and one thing I have learned is that people love to teach you things.

I recently learned how to tell if a bottle of wine has sat opened for too long—hold a salt shaker to the drink edge and see if it’s brown. The gentlemen in this case was rather irked because his wine was stale and decided I needed to know just how he knew. He was mistaken in his analysis as I’d watched the bartender open a fresh bottle to pour for him, but that’s not important.

What is important is when you get a great table—and I’m not talking about wine guy here—who shares advice that, even when unsolicited, turns out to be amazingly truthful.

The guest I am referring to opened by asking me what a good tip is for me. I told him that 15-18% is about average and 20% is great. The man—we’ll call him Gray—proceeded to ask me if I thought I was a good server.

“Sure,” I said. “I think I gave great service, no?” He nodded.

“I think I deserve a good tip.”

“So let’s do the math,” Gray said.

“Ten percent of $66 is six-sixty, we’ll double that for a tip of about $13. You know what, let’s make it a fair 20.”

He’d given me just over 30%. (Inward cheer.) 

Gray proceeded to let me know that if I’d asked for $100, he would have given it to me. In part because he was feeling generous, but also because I’d laid out a perception of my worth. Gray didn’t relate any of this specifically to waitressing, but he stressed how important it was for people to know their worth and promote that perception. In negotiating—we’d been talking post-grad job life—and in waitressing and in life.

Every other article in every lifestyle magazine and self-help novel tells us, especially young women, how vital understanding our worth and changing our perception of ourselves is. But sometimes you need someone to tell you this in person and in an unexpected way. I myself have fallen much too often into a place where I let another person decide my importance and place and base my decisions from that, but I’m looking to change that.

Had I said a good tip was $100 and I deserved it, I’d have gotten it from Gray. Had I told the last boy that I’d dated that I deserved more than to just be an option, I’d have saved myself the time and hurt. Maybe I would’ve gotten that last opportunity I wanted if I had pushed myself to get it.

Then again, maybe not. But at least I would have been able to say that I valued me highly enough to fight for myself. A good lesson to learn.

26 Days Ago

Notes To Self

I barely remember 9/11.

Unlike many people, I can’t tell you where I was, what I was wearing, or who I was with when I found out that terrorists had crashed planes into the Twin Towers. Sure, I was only in elementary school, but that day is so ingrained in the fiber of our nation that it feels like a faux pas to point out how much it really didn’t affect my formative years.

However, I do remember 9/3. That’s the day, in 2016, my entire family packs up a rented van and drives my baby sister–hardly a baby anymore–to New York City.

“You’re in college now,” I tell her in a mockingly severe voice before we leave the house.

“You’re going to be tempted to be stupid. Don’t be stupid.” She rolls her eyes as teenagers do, but I know she understands exactly what I am saying. Be careful. Be safe.

She is always careful, but that doesn’t guarantee her safety.

It’s not her actions I worry about when I’ve texted her six times in a row because she hasn’t yet replied to the first.  It’s the actions of an unknown individual setting off bombs in dumpsters or plotting to take out a subway system or whatever other sinister act living in a large–or any–American city attracts these days.

I worry for my parents, who may not be as in tune with the minute happenings of our world being a social media obsessed millennial allows me to be. If something were to happen, when would they know?

I worry for my brother, who has his own battle being a successful Black male in America. Is any member of our Black family safe from day to day? Another thought for another time.

I worry for the nation; we’re living in a place that is seemingly always on the cusp of some sort of disaster. Economically, culturally, internationally, socially, physically, etc. What will tomorrow bring? That is, if it comes at all.

But most of all, I worry for the youngest of the family. The one of us expected to be the most successful. The smartest, the funniest (well, maybe not more than me), and the most charming of our happy little crew. She’s five or six hours away. Who is keeping her safe without us being arm’s length away. I worry for her and about her because while I don’t much remember 9/11, I remember every attack since. In all of the many, many places since. We’re all just being realistic when we acknowledge what has happened in New York, Florida, D.C., and several other cities, and that it may happen again.

Still, I must accept that living in a state of paranoia is helpful to no one, especially myself, so I text her regularly hoping to hear of a celebrity siting rather than something new to worry about.

She has a beautiful view of Manhattan from her dorm window and tucked away in the back, glistening when the sun hits it just right, is the Freedom Tower. I make sure to remember what is stands for.

Mock Business Campaign Brochure

Graphic Design, PR Graphics and Design II - MASC 335

masc 335 brochuremasc 335 brochure2IMG_0489

The focus of this assignment was to create a brochure focusing on good design elements using an organization/company of our choice and an image taken for a prior assignment. Because of the free reign of the assignment, we were allowed to create ignoring (just this once!) copyright issues.  I decided to choose Vogue simply because I thought it would allow me to use for decorative ideas and in order to incorporate my own image (the leafy staircase in the right-center panel), I choose the organization undertaking a Green initiative. I used Photoshop to pull the images into PNG form and InDesign to build the layout and place the text around it.

Action Alliance Visual/Graphic Adcept

Graphic Design, PR Graphics and Design - MASC 334

AA adcept

I immediately knew I wanted to relay something about building and change for my photography adcept. I decided to go with the bricks because they lent well to my overall point about individuals donations making a difference. I used Photoshop to crop my image and change the opacity to allow the writing to stand out. The initial plan was to have the main text to the left and the bricks as a stand-alone image but the cement in between them created an opportunity to combine the two. As in the type adcept, I pulled the social media addresses over from InDesign as a vector. I kept the fonts, along with the color scheme, similar between the two adcepts because I wanted them to coordinate with each other without being exactly alike. For the cursive, I used LaurenScript and Lemon/Milk for the surrounding text. The information at the barrier is Century Gothic. In reverse of the type adcept, I made the information bar white rather than black to highlight the brick and balance the imagery on the viewer. I included it as a separate space to give audiences information on how they can help in addition to why they should

Action Alliance Typography Adcept

Graphic Design, PR Graphics and Design - MASC 334

AA typeography

I initially wanted to create an image of some kind through my type. I was going to first create a megaphone with words of action filling the shape. When I thought of depictions of sexual and domestic violence in the media, I decided to make a TV instead to show that what is ignored because it’s not “real life” does still happen. The “TV screen” is filled with repeated phrases with key words highlighted in red. The purpose of the type ad is to generate donations while delivering my message, which the red type does. I continued the black, white, red, and gray color scheme I began with my logo. I wanted to separate the main adcept from the information and make it stand out on its own. For the various texts, I used Lemon Milk for the TV border, Lucida Bright for the inside text, Century Gothic for the antennas and link, and Market Deco for the social media addresses. To create my ad, I used Adobe Illustrator for the overall work and InDesign to move the social media addresses as a vector from my newsletter into the adcept.