Tag Archives: hair

Chronicles of a Naturalista

The crispy cold air is a blowing, and my hair is a drying.

What to do, what to do!?




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Great, fun protective style for the winter, or a little something to cover up a bad hair day!

What do y’all think? Did I nail it?


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Barber Talk: It’s Something About Blaq

Guest Blogger: Chris Hawkins is a 23 year old Barber, born in San Francisco but raised in Oakland. Cutting hair isn’t just a hobby for him, its a profession; its a career; its a foundation for shaping todays youth, conspiring with our generation, and learning from the old timers. 
526711_409019292444628_35843198_nAs an African American man I feel that unity is in our DNA. Whether we like it or not, we tend to unify in the craziest and unexpected of ways. But when it becomes an agreed unity then it becomes something much more, more like harmony.

More specifically among a client & a barber. Being a barber, I see and hear all kinds of things that’ll make most (in the real world) cringe or simply walk away… But the most beautiful thing of all is to see a satisfied soul either waiting for a cut or gazing in the mirror in awe, plotting on how they’re going to show of their fresh cut!

African Americans across the universe take pride in their hair regardless of the length, color, shape, texture; so all these other “distractions” (shows about wives, shoes, clothes, phones, BS.) take away from that essence. Ultimately, as a people we need to take pride in our image and start with what God gave us from the very beginning.

If there’s one thing “The Man” can’t take from us,  it’s a fresh cut…

– Hawkin$

Butta Quttz Barber Salon
4156 Macarthur Blvd
(between 39th Ave & Maybelle Ave)
Oakland, CA 94619
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Last poem of April



When we first met

i had just finished practice

no shower had been taken

no clothes had been changed

and no mirror had been looked into

but your frantic wave and heavy hello made me feel beautiful.


Curious, i watched you

i had never seen anything as intriguing

it had something to do with the gracefulness of your heavy hands

the way the light bounced brightly off yellow walls

to illuminate your brown skin.


I couldn’t take my eyes off you,

until I had to,

“c’mon, you ready?”

I walked passed you to get to my sister’s station,

you smelled of sweet summer days to come

and of a man

a scent i’m not too familiar with.


I plopped in my sisters chair, hair beaming africa,

ready to be tamed america,

when you said “bye, nice meeting you”,

I caught a glimpse of your eyes

and you stole the reciprocated words from my mouth.


As you left

i smiled.


This day forever stained in my memory.


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