Transparency After Having The Hypothetical Tape Ripped From My Mouth

I always get asked, “Leah V, how are so comfortable with being transparent with your life?”

Growing up, I went from being very outspoken to quiet and withdrawn to being kinda sorta outspoken to shutting up and only saying the ‘right’ things to where I am now. And, even then, I still don’t say everything that’s on my mind. I’m getting more and more comfortable with each passing day.  

The reason that I’ve been through these waves of shutting up vs. not shutting up was because people always told me to be quiet.

My father, ahem, my sperm donor, because real fathers raise their children, used to always call me a ‘broken record”. Yes, he was an adult and I was a kid, but he was a liar and I knew that early on. So, in order to keep him in check, make him have accountabilty, I’d remind him of the things he promised to do. I’d give him follow up calls like a damn office assistant at the age of 8.

“You ain’t nothin but a broken record,” he said to me over the phone one day. “You always repeatin yoself.”

I was young. I didn’t have a response. But, my feelings had been hurt.

So, I stopped talking.

I noticed that when I expressed my feelings or dislike of something, people would get angry, offended, and say, “You talk too much.”  

So, I stopped expressing myself and kept it all inside.

No one wanted to hear what I had to say. Nothing I had to say was of importance. And, honestly, no one cared.

Model: @Fashionlayn

I ran away to books. That way I could communicate more effectively. I could live vicariously. No, they weren’t real people, but real people sucked.

Men hated me the most. Especially Muslim men. They still do actually. HA! Before I knew what feminism was and the women’s rights movements, I was an advocate and hadn’t even known. When, I’d see something foul or oppressive towards girls or women, I’d speak out. I’d be called names like “hoe” or would hear phrases like “She doing too much” and the best, “she needs to shut up because she don’t know what she’s talking about”. And, because I was married and didn’t want to rock the boat or embarrass him, I pick and chose my battles.

Again, I was quiet.

If you think about it, for hundreds of years, people have always wanted women to shut their mouths. To be quiet. To stop complaining. To disregard their truths and traumas. To get over it. The truth is a hard pill to swallow. And, it’s easier to control someone who is willing to bury the truth. Lock it in a nice fancy box.

Other than women, do you know who the world usually loves to have shut up? Women of color. It is ingrained in us to not speak up. Out of fear that we won’t be believed anyway, because we are less than. Out of fear that there will be retaliation if we dare to open our mouths. We are called liars. We are dismissed. Even by our own.

When other people’s truths are celebrated, called brave, our voices and stories go unheard. Our truths remain silenced and bottled.

There comes a certain point where a person gets fed up. Fed up of being called a ‘broken record”. Fed up of being told that you don’t know what you are talking about. Fed up of not being believed and afraid of repercussion.    

After twenty-nine years of being silenced, something marvelous happened. I got divorced and the hypothetical tape was ripped from my mouth. It hurt like hell, don’t get me wrong, but the sting was only temporary. On the other side of fear is greatness. And, my fear was being told to shut up.

I made a decision: not anymore. Not one more day will pass that I fear to speak my mind. I might not have all the answers, none of us do, but I know what I am talking about. I am not crazy, like some of them like to call women who speak their minds. We are not crazy. We’ve just transcended the oppressive societal norms that seek to silence girls.

Let’s keep the conversation going: has someone ever tried to silence you? How’d you get over your fear and start living in your truths?

Xoxo,

Leah V

What Not To Wear

We are always told what not to wear.

Bikinis. Short Sleeves. Stripes. Florals. Bright colors are certainly out of the question for a lot of us.

There are tons of articles and listicles of what women over 40 shouldn’t wear or what someone with a big stomach should avoid. We are a society of trying to hide, conceal, and alter what we don’t like. We are becoming less and less human and more plastic by the second with the influx of doggie filters and smoothing apps to make us Instagram acceptable.

We are afraid to try anything new out of fear of what others will think of our bodies. We fear the backlash of someone noticing that we aren’t wearing a body-shaper or that good ole’ girdle. The stretch marks on our arms or the sag of our boobs. Our real bodies are unacceptable.

We’re so worried about fitting in that we toss away all of the uniqueness that makes us so much more interesting. This may be cliché, but if we all looked like a Barbie wouldn’t the world be such a boring place?

I have a lot of conversations with my platform about body image. And, the stories that I hear are heartbreaking and shocking. Self-hate for many of us stems from childhood abuse by parents, bullying at school, and the media.

Can you imagine what would happen if we just loved ourselves without stipulations? Like if you loved yourself prior to losing ten pounds? Or if you loved yourself before the nose job? Before the makeup?

That’s why it’s so important to have conversations. Like, honest conversations about our bodies. No matter how weird or embarrassing. We learn so much more about ourselves when we share our stories, our struggles, and triumphant moments.

It’s kinda funny that as a plus-size model and body-positive activist, I still have my days. I still have that little voice in the back of my head that says, hmmm you shouldn’t wear that. You can’t wear that. YOU DON’T HAVE THE BODY FOR IT.

Fashion Nova Curve sent me this mustard jumper type deal and I was like oh that super cute n whateva. I kinda thought the material would be unforgiving, but I was feeling confident. I can do this!

When it arrived, I tried it on with excitement. I immediately noticed that it literally showed every dip and dimple of my thighs. My thighs and legs have always been problematic and it’s taken me a long time to come to terms with them. They always seem to garner attention that I don’t care for, making me feel like some kind of object. And, they are riddled with fat and cellulite. 

I looked in the mirror. This would look much better with a pair of Spanx, I thought. They’d smooth out the cellulite. Smooth out my stomach and fupa. It’d make everything look good.

I love my body and learning to love it more each day, but I have my days where I get sucked into the ideal of imitating unrealistic beauty standards. Then I start ridiculing myself and blaming what I ate yesterday on my ‘today’ fatness. If only I ate less and exercised more then I wouldn’t have to wear Spanx. If only I could lose a few pounds I’d be able to wear this or that with confidence. The age-old question: why not be confident right now, in the body I already got? 

When does only losing a few pounds ever satisfy us? We then get caught up in the idea that thin automatically means happy and spiral into diet culture. And as ya’ll know, it’s hard to recoup and bounce back from eating disorders and the negative effects of unhealthy dieting.

I almost didn’t post a lot of these photos because my cellulite is screaming hello! Because we don’t ever see cellulite on models or on magazines. Cellulite isn’t normal. But, every human being has stretch marks and cellulite to some extent. But, you’d never know because everyone smooths and edits now. 

I’ve gotten so many compliments on this jumper without the Spanx. With the cellulite full view. And I felt good in it. And, because I feel good, that’s the only thing that matters.

My cellulite or stretch marks don’t define me. And neither should it for you. 

There’s no such thing as what not to wear. Don’t ever listen to those anti-body love articles that box you into only wearing things that tuck and flatter. Just put it on and see how you feel. Let your body and mind guide you to what you wear.

Did you ever grow up wanting to change a part of your body? Have you come to terms with that part or are you still struggling? Let’s chat. 

Xoxo,

Leah V

Are You Even Muslim?

“Are you even Muslim?”

I hate when people ask me that. It pisses me off. They have no idea what it took, what I’ve been through to stand where I’m standing now in my Islam. My spirituality.

But, I know exactly why they’re asking. Because a black face with a traditionally wrapped hijab couldn’t possibly be Muslim. Because a girl wears leggings, couldn’t possibly be Muslim. Because she might have some tats on her arm, couldn’t possibly be Muslim. In order to be accepted as a visible Muslimah, I have to be of Middle-Eastern descent, wear an abaya, and speak Arabic.   

If you don’t fit into that mold then no one knows who you are or what you’re doing in the mosque. Stop trying and go to some other religion and hope that they accept you.

“So, you became Muslim when your Mom converted over, is that why you’ve stayed in Islam?”

Yes, I converted over when I was six or seven years old because of my mother, but as an adult that’s not why I’ve chosen to stay.

Close-ended comments/questions like these irk me because why isn’t my spirituality enough? Why do people feel the need to attach things to unrelated things or dismiss what I’m saying because they want to cram me into some square?  

To become a Muslim, convert to Islam, you only need to take shahada (profession of faith):

“Ashadu an la ilaha illa illa-ilah, wa ashadu anna muhammadan rasul ullah.”

The meaning is: "I testify that there is no god but God (Allah), and I testify that Muhammad is the messenger of God (Allah).

Of course, we have the pillars and other rules to being a good and ‘practicing’ Muslim. But to simply put it, this is the only thing you have to say and believe in order to be classified as a Muslim.

If in Allah’s eyes it’s so easy to be a Muslim, then why do human beings have such a hard time being convinced that I’m Muslim?

The media, other Muslims, etc, loves focusing on certain kinds of Muslims. Acceptable Muslimahs, I like to call them. They like to showcase the ‘oppressed Muslim’. The Middle-Eastern Muslim girl who is forced into an arranged marriage, isn’t allowed to drive, and covers in all-black with gloves. They show us the ‘good’ and wholesome Hijabi blogger. She’s usually a size small, wears pastels, has about a million followers, can pass for white but is usually Middle-Eastern, her photos are perfect, her pregnancy is perfect, and her husband makes fashionable cameos on her feed. Lately, the ‘activist’ Muslim has been trending. How do they look, you ask? Usually draped in an abaya or loose-fitting clothes and always with hijab. They can be found making salat on the grass at a rally for Trump’s latest Muslim ban. And, let’s not forget, they also are a fair-skinned Middle-Eastern type.

What about us “In-betweenie” Muslims?

Don’t we exist? The ones who don’t wear hijab but still dress modestly. The one who dates but doesn’t drink? The one who smokes weed but gives charity. The one who doesn’t make salat but never misses a Jumah prayer. The one who only observes the obligations of Islam during Ramadan.

What about the Black Muslim. The African Muslim. The Dark-Skinned Middle-Eastern Muslim. Asian. White. European. Hispanic. Indian.

Do we not exist in the Islamic world?

Do we not belong?

I used to be one of those Muslim girls who pretended to be super Muslim. I did it in order to appease people. I wasn’t doing it for Allah and I definitely wasn’t doing it for myself. I changed the way I dressed, pretended that I prayed five times a day or knew certain surahs. I’d say ‘inshallah’ after every sentence, wrapped my scarf the “correct” way, and even ate halal.

I was two different people.

What was interesting was that the Muslim women who were covered and praying and being as Muslim as can be had another side to them that I couldn’t quite understand. They were bitter, judgmental, and very close-minded.

As calamities started to happen and my façade began to slip away, my iman (faith) was at an all-time low. But for one thing, I knew in my heart that I still believed and wanted to be Muslim. That wasn’t enough for the community though. So instead of lifting me, I became the center of their negativity. I was called a kafir (derogatory term for an unbeliever), a hoe, and a slut. I was called fake, un-Islamic, and a bitch. Those are just a few of the names.

At that point, I was done. I stopped going to the mosque. I didn’t trust Muslims at all. I cut all ties. And, I was on the brink of actually detaching from the religion. My plan was that I could still believe in Allah (swt) but not ascribe to Islam. In my head, I wasn’t Muslim enough for my ex. Not Muslim enough for the Black Muslim community or the Arab one. I tried and got shunned. So, I was just finished.

“My sister is having a halaqa tonight,” my friend said. “You should come.”

I was going through the divorce and I hadn’t wanted to be around any judgmental Muslims. “I’m straight,” I told her.

“It’s gonna be free food there.”

I sighed. I was pretty hungry and my funds were low. “Fine!”  

I came super late. My plan was to swoop in, get a plate, then slip away.

When my friend saw my face, she said, “Glad you can make it.” I’d been spotted.  

I rolled my eyes.

The sisters were pleasant. They gave me greetings and kisses on my cheek. Wasn’t so bad, I thought. I sat on the couch and her sister turned on a lecture about being Muslim. It was a short but hard-hitting lecture. Afterwards, the sister talked about community and uplifting each other. She asked if anyone had any questions. There was a silence. A lump formed in my throat as I clutched my plate, trying to hold back tears.

“My ex called me a kafir, so I don’t think I can be Muslim anymore. I just can’t do anything right,” I told the group. “I can’t dress like a Muslim. I can’t eat like one. I can’t pray like one. And, if I can’t be a good Muslim then I can’t be one at all.”

The sister grimaced. “That’s not how this works. You ARE a Muslim. You are NOT a kafir and how dare he say that you. A Muslim should NEVER, ever say that to another Muslim. When you take shahada, you are a Muslim, dear. I don’t care what you do or have done or will do in the future. Every day we are given on earth is a day to get closer to Allah (swt). Everyone, I mean everyone, even the Muslims who appear to have it all together have their weaknesses—whether they show it or not. But, don’t ever believe that. You are Muslim.”

That was last year.

I’ve said it before, I’m not the poster child for Islam. I’m one of the many, many Muslims on this planet just trying to make it somewhere on this earth and in the hereafter. I have lots of work to do. And, I’m okay with that.  

So, when I am hit with the question: are you even Muslim?  

I say: I am. Proudly.

xoxo

Leah V. 

Battling Inner Demons

I wrote this on May 23rd on my Instagram account: He told me when we decided to get divorced that I couldn't take care of myself. That I'd see how hard it was without him. At first, I thought I could do it by myself. But recently, I've started to believe it. Believe him.

I don't make any money blogging, despite what my feed showcases. Oh, how betraying the internet can be. Fake it till you make it, right? I'm a struggling artist. Have been for a while now. Waiting for my big break like the rest of them. Trying to maintain an indie blog talking about real shit like social justice and feminism isn't what businesses want. They want the fake Instagram bloggers. Which is fine. I've made my bed and I'll lie in it.

What really irked me today was that I have about one month's worth of savings left and have been searching for jobs for the last two months. I have two masters, but I'm still unemployed. On the verge of partial homelessness, I sat in the car and thought about life real hard. How the fuck am I divorced, jobless, and highly educated at 30 🤔 Tears filled me eyes and I thought back to my ex: You can't take care of yourself without me... You know how life just beats your ass and your left stunned? That's me right now. Wondering what's next. How my story ends. Begins. I wish someone had the answers for me. Just tell me what to do. Ya know? Do y'all feel me though?

Henna Designs by Noor

At this point, I was fed up with life. I was cooked and overdone. I wanted people to stop looking at me like some kind of special person and see me for who I really was. An overly educated black girl with no parents, divorced, and no job. A fat girl with mental illness. Someone who floated around with no direction. Yup, that was me. Is me. Still me right now.  

I was sitting in the car on that sunny day, looking at my depleting bank account. Checking my emails to see if any of the 100-plus low-grade jobs that I was clearly overqualified for had sent me a message back. Nothin’. I’d had one interview a few weeks ago, but that was unsure. She was still ‘fleshing out the details of the position’. Unfortunately, my bills or rent hadn’t cared about the details. They needed to be paid. My uninsured body hadn’t cared about the details. It needed annual checkups now. My hopes and dreams hadn’t cared the fuck about the details. They needed nourishment and funding now!

As I always do, I lost my marbles. The strain of not having a family to support, help with anything weighed on me like a slab of marble. The embarrassment of having to apply for food stamps, walking into the unemployment office for ‘job assistance’, and making an appointment with a volunteer healthcare agency weighed heavily on my chest, my ribs as to where I couldn’t breathe. 

Then I remembered what my ex told me as we were getting a divorce: you can’t take care of yourself without me. You’ll see how hard it is out there.

Was he right? Had I been to overly-confident about my abilities to maintain a job and pay my own bills? I mean, to the naked eye, it seems as though I have it all. Seems as though I have the ability to take over the world. My face is beat and my outfits are amazing. I have a following. People love me. I’m the fat, black girl who’s supposed to change the fashion game. It doesn’t appear that I’m on the brink of not being able to pay my rent, or put gas in my car or food in my stomach.

The internet isn’t real. It has real moments, but it isn’t real.

I’m struggling to stay afloat. That’s the truth. I have one month’s worth of savings left. That’s the truth. I have no plan of how I’m going to do any of this. Truth. Two credit cards. Almost maxed out. TRUTH.

I’m ashamed to admit that. To say it out of my mouth. I have two fuckin’ master’s degrees and some work experience, yet I’m treated in the work world like I only have a 9th grade education. 

Same day while drinking a slushee, I burst out crying in the front of my friend’s house. In the car. Alone. I hate when people see me cry. I know. I’m weird.

As a black woman, we pride ourselves in maintaining this strong persona. We can’t let them see us weak. We can’t ask for help. Don’t let them see you down.

As a writer, I pride myself in being transparent. It’s how I built the foundation that I do have. I like sharing intimate moments with people. Especially people who get it. People who want real and appreciate that life isn’t snapshots of Instagram posts, but broken-down cars, and fucbois, and weight-gain, and bad ass kids.

Ain’t nobody perfect. Whether their profile says it or not. I don’t care how many filters they place on their selfies.

After, I posted my cry for help, people started to reach out in droves. I crocodile cried again. Y’all know that ugly ass frog-face cry? Yep, that was me.

My inbox blew up with people wanting me to know to not listen to my ex or my inner demon. People that were Muslim talked about patience. People who weren’t Muslim talked about hope and faith. A few individuals even asked for my PayPal info. I told them to hold off a few weeks (cuz ya never know, maybe a job or two would call me back). A few didn’t care and sent money anyway. *Inserts Frog-Face Tears*

I was so overwhelmed by the love. The hundreds of comments and likes. Strangers from different states offering to speak with the HR at their jobs and that they’d even put me up in a room if need be. It’s more than I’ve even gotten from my own blood relatives that see me struggle every day. Women shared similar ‘struggle-bus’ stories of when they got divorced, had their dignity stripped, and was now starting over. From scratch.

My heart swelled. And if you know me, I’m not an emotional person. Well, I try not to show it. But these strangers, these followers rejuvenated me at a time that I needed upliftment, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on. They say that I was the one who gave them life on a daily basis. I believe it’s the other way around.

It’s Ramadan. It’s the first day. I’m writing this with a hunger migraine. I’m cranky. And my day has been filled with filling out job apps and researching crowdfunding sites so that I can continue to write, be an artist, I guess.

One thing I learned today was to be humble, be grateful for the things you have, and never lose hope. Who knows what tomorrow will bring for me? Maybe I won’t be broke for long. It’s up to me to have hope and keep grinding and be better in this life and for the sake of the hereafter.

Xoxo,

Leah V.   

10 Questions with Leah V and RV

10 Questions with Leah V and RV is a good time. We whipped up ten questions at the kitchen table and dumped them in a bowl. It gets real shady. You don't want to miss it.

Watch RV's version on his channel: https://youtu.be/uemgCgI9koA

Find us on Instagram:

@RVXmendoza

@Lvernon2000

Follow us on Snapchat: 

https://www.snapchat.com/add/rvmendoza

https://www.snapchat.com/add/leahvdaily

Boys Will Be Boys

I don’t like to be the bearer of burden. And, I’ll probably receive hella hate for writing this, but I’m about to be a young-looking 30 and as I age, I’m figuring out that I have very little fucks to give.

I’m 100% sure that this happens in every religion and culture, since the beginning of time, but because I’m Muslim, I’m going to focus on Muslim men.

Islam is a fair and peaceful religion, way of life. It lays out women’s rights; the ability to own businesses, seek divorce, and attain quality education. It clearly speaks against oppression. To even be a Muslim and oppress is an oxymoron, but time and time again we see these acts in our communities and abroad. It isn’t the religion, people! It’s the individuals obsessed with greed. It’s culture. And, it’s just plain not caring about what the religion says and using it as a form of control. From what I’ve seen mostly of the control and policing of our girls and women. Yeah, kinda like how Europeans used Christianity on African slaves or cults use ‘belief’ to control their followers.

With that said, let’s talk about the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality that I’ve seen in several Islamic communities.

One of my friends had a brother who wasn’t forced to cook dinner for the family like his sisters were. He did have dishwashing duties, but would often neglect them to hang with his friends. His sister and I were chillin’ one day and her mother called her. My friend told me that she had to go. When I asked why, she said because her mom wanted her to wash dishes.  

Another unequal rule that was enforced was girls staying out past Mahgrib. Every Muslim boy could be found playing basketball, walking to the store, or just hanging at a friend’s house while the girls were forbidden to leave the confinements of their home. When asked why, the responses ranged from it was ‘too dangerous’ for the girls or plainly, because he was a boy, he could run the streets, and you can’t so just deal with it until you get married.

I’ve had friends that brothers were allowed to receive phone calls from girls, have porn under their mattresses, and even date. If a Muslim girl even looked at a boy, it was over for her. She’d be banished to the prison that was her home. For eternity.   

Infidelity, adultery is a biggie. Muslims love to skate over that one. Especially if you have a penis. You get a ‘get out of jail’ card immediately. You get 99 excuses plus one. Basically, you didn’t even do it, even if they got you on tape. I’ve heard these responses in regards to Muslim men cheating. “Well, maybe he cheated because she wasn’t satisfying him.” “He only cheated once. What’s the big deal?” “He can have up to four wives anyway?” “You want to divorce him just because he cheated?”  

If a Muslim woman cheated, the Day of Judgement would have truly arrived. The woman would literally be pulled out of her home, beaten in the streets, tongue whipped on Facebook, scolded by all and every family member, even cousins she’s never met before, ‘whore’ stamped on her forehead, then divorced and tossed into a deep, dark pit with a hungry lion inside.

And, don’t get me started on old, crusty Muslim men or Muslim fucbois requesting virgins…

I was in college when I started partying. I ripped my hijab off and put on a little black dress. Inside the club, my friends and I noticed a few Muslim guys we knew from the local mosque with drinks in their hands. I wanted to duck and dodge, but my friends told me that they’d already seen us. I rolled my eyes and followed.

They gave us salaams.

“Why are you guys here?” one of them asked.  

I put my hand on my hip. “The same reason you guys are.”

He scoffed. “No hijab?”

“Not tonight.” I grinned.

“Y’all better not be drinking.”

I pointed to his glass. “Like you?”

Of course, he went back and told the whole community about our indecencies. So, we were deemed ‘those kind of girls’. They warned the good and holy Muslimahs not to speak or hang around us. But, the Muslim guys totally soared past the important portion of the discussion: we were all Muslim and none of us should have been in the club with drinks in hand and hijabs left in the backseat of cars. But no one, not one person pointed that out that fact as they hyped the story of us being bad Muslims.

Can we please stop this? Stop enabling these boys. You’re creating arrogant, Muslim fucbois who feel entitled to bigotry and sexism. Stop telling them that it’s okay to treat their women as if they are their mothers, that it’s okay to drink liquor but not eat pork, that it’s okay to marry a virgin when you smashed half the team. Stop making Islam look, appear to be one-sided. Stop using Islam to validate your foolishness. That is not ISLAM!  

As a Muslim girl, I feel like you have to be everything to everyone at all moments of time. How tiring is that? What kind of life is that to live? You have to be pure to Muslim men, nonthreatening to white people, become Mufti Menk at the mosque. We all can’t be Mufti Menk.   

I know that I’m not the only one whose experienced these ‘boys will be boys’ moments in the Muslim community.

I want to hear your stories. Put them in the comments below if you’re tired of the bull!

xoxo,

Leah V. 

Feminism: I’m Not Your Stereotype

Although, I’m not political, recent events have had some of my close friends and I in a tiff. Before the whole Trump fiasco, women’s rights have always been under attack and governed by individuals who have never been cat-called to the point of annoyance, followed around in a club because they wouldn’t provide them digits, never had cramps that twisted their insides so badly that they basically died, or had a full-on human being claw its way out of their va jay jay.  

Men making certain decisions for women is like my black, Muslim ass applying for the pope’s position in the Vatican.

It ain’t gonna work.

Now, if I were a rich and powerful douchebag with no decency, I could apply, get the job, and slowly but surely begin to fuck stuff up. But then as a human being, why would I want to create life issues for another sect of people?

It’s a man’s world. *Ahem* Sorry. It’s a white man’s world. Nope. A rich white man who probably is straight and Christian’s world. I don’t know about you, but I definitely don’t want someone like that making decisions about my reproductive health.

We are in dire need of a more diverse panel. Sorry not sorry.

And this isn’t a bash white people post. This is a bash-all-men-and-women-who-support-unequal-systems-put-in-place-by-the-powers-that-be post.

Feminism. The word most men cringe when they hear. I’ve gotten soooo much bullshit for saying I’m a feminist, especially because I’m Muslim. That makes it three times worst.

I was on a date with this African guy. Topic: dynamics between men and women. I like a good debate once in a while.

“You sound like a feminist,” he said.    

“I am a feminist,” I replied.

His brows raised. But he hadn’t said anything else.

After a few seconds of silence. I countered, “I’m a humanist.”

He offered a sigh of relief. “That’s a better answer.”

WTF. Needless to say, he got dumped.

I was chatting with this white non-Muslim guy. “That’s great that you’re Muslim and a feminist. It’s just so sad how they oppress their women.”

After I schooled him about how ‘men’ in general oppress women, he got dropped like a hot sack of shit.

The last straw was another guy who said, “I mean, I get feminism, but they just hate men and they take stuff too far, ya know?”

No, I don’t know. BYEEEEEE!

Not only do non-Muslims have stigmas attached to feminism but Muslims do as well. Bad. I’ve heard Muslim men and women say that feminism isn’t Islamic. Pump the breaks. Equality isn’t Islam? Oppression isn’t spoken about as something that is wrong in Islam?

Feminism doesn’t mean hatred of men. Feminism isn’t just for lesbians. Feminism doesn’t only equate to showing your tits, growing your underarm hair, or being white. Of course, there are extreme feminists out there who may or may not fit those above stereotypes, but to each its own. You can be Muslim and feminist. I am. And I know others who are, too. And it doesn’t compromise my Islam, it actually makes it stronger.  

Being a feminist means that you want the right to be who you want to be, whether that’s Muslim or atheist or Jew. It means the right to make equal pay as a man or a white woman, to have a say-so over what happens to your body, whether that’s abortion or having multiple children. It’s not about being right or wrong. Or good or evil. We have a God given right to make decisions for ourselves. That’s not too much to ask.  

Leah V. 

New Year, New Me?

New year, new me? Maybe. Maybe not. I can dig the saying, to an extent. Some people want to do better, be a different person, emerge from a butterfly cocoon at midnight, but a date on a calendar isn’t going to propel you into greatness. It can be a push in the right direction, though.

Trust me, I get it. 2016 has been a year of revelation. And I use the word, revelation, because I keep seeing all these posts about how much 2016 sucked. I don’t know how to feel about that. I mean, did it have sucky moments? Yeah. Which year didn’t? But with those suck-ass moments, truths were revealed. We got to see what we were really made of when these calamities struck. Ain’t that worth something? To see how that arrow flew right at you and how you soared over that bitch. The arrow might’ve hit your mom in the arm, but hey, you can’t have it all.

2016. The year of revelation. For me, personally, I had no idea, clue, whatever that the year would be the way it was.  

I remember at the end of 2015, I had a plan for the 2016 takeover. The plan was to grind with my blogging. Turn it into a business. To work on my book and get it in the best shape possible so that I could land an agent and get it published. Finally start my career. To have better opportunities for my husband and I. I was 28, and at 30, I told him I was kinda, sorta ready to be a mother. And as long as he helped me with the little rug rat, then I’d do it. Finally. Although, I never wanted kids, I was going to do it for him. He’d waited this long. He deserved it.

Life had another plan…

I relaunched my blog and that took about two months, but I was happy with the results. With the rebranding, I was going to be more real, more lifestyle. Less blogger-y. People started to dig the new layout, and I started getting a lot of publicity. The money was going to start rolling in so the financial stress would be alleviated from him. Unfortunately, no money came. I was working for free. Started working for Muslimgirl and got some more publicity. As I blew up in my creative field, attention-wise, my relationship went downhill. I found out he was dating some girl from his job. That killed me. But I kept it between family and close friends. I still blogged. Keeping up a façade of okay-ness. We got therapy. I forgave him. New beginnings, right? Wrong.  

During this time of discovery, I asked myself a question. And, it really just came out of nowhere. Would you choose your career over your relationship? I was never able to answer the question because I could do it all, I could have it all.

When he’d say weird things about my accomplishments and how I wasn’t enough, the question always came up. Still, I never answered it. I was in denial.

More shit hit the fan with his infidelity. The blaming. The yelling. The resentment.

Still, I stayed. Trying to salvage the broken pieces.

During our divorce, I went through a lot of mental abuse. He said some really nasty things to me. I threw myself more into blogging, modeling, and other creative projects. I hired an editor to help me with my indie novel. I didn’t process the divorce thoroughly. Didn’t have time to. And that was ok with me.

I had no idea that in the beginning of 2016, that I’d be single by the end of the year. That I’d have to fend for myself. That I’d lose my mother to mental illness. That I’d lose friends to jealousy. But even with those revelations, I had gains that were equally amazing. I also had no idea that I’d become stronger by going to the gym regularly, that I’d be a staff writer, that I’d have dozens of features, or that I’d publish a book, or that I’d graduate from having five years of extensive therapy or that I’d be living on my own and be blessed to pay my own damn phone bill without him (because he said that I couldn’t).

It was revealed to me this year that I was much stronger than I ever thought I was. Because failing at an nine-year marriage made me feel so weak. So low. I questioned myself at every turn. Why this and why that? If you had only done such and such then you wouldn’t be undesirable, single, divorced. So, no, I don’t agree with anyone that 2016 was shit. It was THE SHIT! Because we are still here, still standing and living. Still able to grow, be hurt, and bounce back.

Because I’m corny, I have a few things that I want to leave with you for the new year. And a few tips to make sure it kinda goes smoothly. Note: I’m also going to practice what I preach as well.  

Drop the Duds:

Stop allowing people to enter and take space in your life that have no substance or value. I see this waaaaaaay too much, especially with girls. Got a fuck boy that’s been hanging on by the pinky cuticle? Drop him. Got a frenemy who always got some smack to talk when you’ve “blessed up”? Drop her. Got an evil cat that scratches and hisses at you even though you feed it premium cat food? Drop it off at the Humane Society. Just kidding. Or am I?

The point is, we don’t want to make people angry or uncomfortable. We don’t want to burn bridges. Right? Fuck those bridges. They have no problem with draining your energy, making you feel low, creating issues for you. So, if the bad outweighs the good then you may have to drop em. Sorry. You are the weakest link. Buh bye.

Stop Lying to Yourself… And Others

Are you the Facebook friend who boasts about who they are cutting off in 2017? The one who says they are going to hit the gym but then falls off once spring hits? Stop lying. Little secret here, everyone knows your full of it so just don’t. If you have no intention of doing something for yourself or others keep your mouth shut. Be truthful. You know your capabilities for the most part. If your goal is to save money, then you actually have to have a plan and implement it. Out of each check, I’m going to save 50 bucks. Boom! I call this the plan and do method. Too many people talk but don’t back it up. Write it down. Consult with others about how you should go about your goal. Research. Do it. If it fails, go through all the steps again and tweak where necessary.

Get the ‘F’ Out of Your Comfort Zone

Growth is necessary, and it’s uncomfortable. You can try to avoid if you want, but you will always be thrown a curveball. Facts. So, why not semi-prepare yourself. The more fluid you are the less force the hit will have.

For example, I hated going to events by myself because I didn’t like being the awkward girl standing alone watching other people mingle. What if I said something stupid? What if I got rejected? I had to ask myself: what’s the point of going to events anyway? Well, I want to connect with others and build my brand. If no one knows about you then how will you grow your brand? Know what I did? I forced myself to go to events. Alone. Although very painful and awkward, I set a goal. Talk to five people and then you can leave. Once, I got to talking and figuring out that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it got easier each time.   

In conclusion, what I want for all of you (the fantastic readers) is the feeling of rejuvenation for the new year. You don’t have to make a complete 180, but start thinking about it. Think about some goals you didn’t get to start or finish last year. Think about the relationships you keep and how that affects you: good or bad. Think about leaping into some shit that’s super cool, that you never thought of doing before. We don’t know when our last day is up. So, let’s go into 2017 making the most of our 364 days. 

xoxo

Leah V. 

Why I Decided to Become a Plus-Size Model

In this day and age, everybody and their mamas are ‘models’. Thanks social media! Everyone is a CEO of their own one-man company. Everyone is a fashion blogger. Everyone is a comedian or an actor. Or an influencer. And in no way am I throwing shade, but it’s real. And I tell it like it is. This is what I see, every day, all the time.

I am so grateful for social media, because it gave the thriving artist—who wouldn’t ever be considered by mainstream companies—the channel to build a following and show their value in a completely different way.

Frankly, without social media I’d have never made it this far in my blogging career or met the amazing people I’ve met. So, big-ups to Instagram and Facebook!  

So when I started blogging in 2013, I was very, very reluctant to call myself a plus-size model (and sometimes, I still am). Because I wasn’t. I wasn’t signed to an agency nor was I a professional in any way, shape, or form. Then there’s the dreaded stigmas attached to being a model…

Photo: Remy Roman

At shows, people would be like: Oh, you model?

I’d reply: No, no, no. I’m just a blogger who happens to take decent photos. *Laughs nervously*

Even on my worst days, I’d always get the compliment: You are so photogenic.

I’d grimace and be like, umm, do you see my jacked up teeth and round, fat body! I’d think in my head, what are they talking about and that they were probably just trying to be nice.

Fast forward. I went through eating disorders, self-loathing, negative, nasty thoughts about myself and my worth. The people around me started to flee. I hit rock bottom and had no support. The last straw was pulled and I got some mental therapy. Five years’ worth to be exact! Best five years of my life. Therapy allows you to look within and to stop covering shit with icing. The layers started to unravel. And a new-ish me emerged. I mean, she wasn’t perfect but she was a lot better than the old version.

I began to see the beauty in others and within myself. I know, I know. This sounds corny. But I literally hated everyone. And I hated myself. No one knew. But it’s the truth. I was uncomfortable in my very own skin. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.

Photo: Brad Ziegler

I set up two photoshoots for myself. Funding the whole thing from makeup to wardrobe. Planning them was stressful yet exhilarating. Then I had my face on, my ensemble was snatched, my turban was on decent. I was nervous. Very nervous. And the camera started to flash and I just gave in. The photographer was like yassssssss. I was like ayeeeeeee.

Then other photographers and businesses started to approach me and ask me to model their clothes, makeup, and accessories.

Now I claim with proudness that I’m an indie plus-size, African-American, Muslim model. And with that said, modeling is about expression and story-telling. A lot of bloggers and models are about that paycheck and popularity. Not all. Some. In the beginning, I did like the exposure and being ‘known’ was cool, but then I started getting these sincere messages from men and women and I paused.

So every time, I do a shoot or a campaign it’s gotta have something the viewer can take from it. That’s why I’m very heavy on the content that I mix with my photos. If you, as a reader, don’t take anything from my words, then I’ve failed. If you look at my photo and don’t feel some kind of emotion, then I’ve failed.

And failing aint ever an option.

xoxo

Leah V.

BTS: Brad doing the dang thing!

More BTS. And it was a scorcher that day!

Confessions of a Content Fat Girl: Late 20’s Reflections

*Covers face* I’ve totally neglected my blog for the past few weeks. I’M SORRY. No, I really am. It’s almost midnight and here I am blogging. Today has been super humid, I’ve been groggy, and I’m looking for a new place. Packing. Throwing away crap I don’t need. And selling the rest. Ugggh!

I hope you guys understand. Life has been a loop but amazing nonetheless. And guess what else? My birthday was a few days ago. #LeoSeason. I plan on doing something fun and chill this weekend. So turn up!

I turned the big 2.9. Yes, I’m a year away from 30. Sounds weird to say. I’m lucky though, blessed, whatever you want to call it. Some people didn’t and don’t make it to or past that age.

But all this ‘growing’ up has me to thinking… You guys know, I’m an over thinker. A DEEP thinker. I like to reflect on what I’ve learned this year, what failures and accomplishments I’ve made, and to share what I hope to achieve in the future. My main goal is to reach you. I want you to learn something from my experiences. Maybe it’ll make your situation better, same, hell, maybe even worse (I certainly hope not). But I want you to take something from this.

Shades: Forever21 + Necklace: Charming Charlies + Shirt: Avenue + Denim Vest: Burlington + Skirt: Society +

Although major changes have occurred, I’m a content fat girl. I’ve never been so at peace despite the chaos going on. It’s really shocking to me that I’ve grown so much that certain things that used to bother the hell out of me don’t even penetrate my shields. And that very fact, I’m proud of. I never thought I’d actually be the ‘Bigger Person’. I mean I’m still petty, haha, but for the most part, I literally swerve any stupidity, bad-mouthing, and non-productive situation that arises.

What I learned this year? Let that shit go. You have choices. You don’t have to partake in anything that you’re uncomfortable with. You are allowed to say ‘NO’.

I’m telling you that it’s a freeing experience.

Skirt: Society +

Perseverance, but remember to take it step by step. I’ve learned to slow it down sometimes, yet still keep it moving steady. As women (and men), we put a lot on our plate. It’s ok to not do something at that very moment. What’s the worst that can happen? Is it life or death? If not, be fluid and allow yourself to breathe and reflect. There’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to reevaluate and then tackle a problem. Even Superwomen needs to rewind.

And the biggest thing I learned and relearn every day is the importance of the company you keep. I can’t stress this enough… We have internet trolls, family members, besties, managers, and randoms constantly reaffirming our fears. You need people around you that will dream as you do. Because dreams are important. I always had people tell me to take my head out of the clouds and come back to reality. I believed them, and I was miserable. I liked dreaming! When I figured out that they were trying to mold and shape my outlook on the world and of myself then I had to start cutting and blocking people from my circle.

Then I started adding people whose energies were supportive and genuine and good. This change caused me to explore more, fear less, and dream as I had done before.  

I thought this was the cutest thing. He wanted to get in on the OOTD action.   

In retrospect, I’ve accomplished more than I ever dreamed I could. Again, I don’t get paid to blog. I make very little money modeling, and I just launched a self-published book mostly on credit card so I’m in the hole. But even with all that, I’m surrounded by people who are ok with going out for cheap food, that can make me laugh until I pee myself, and who add zest to my world.

Money is great. Being married is great. Being attractive is great. But experiences last a lifetime. That’s my goal for the rest of this year and my remaining years. To Experience life and what it has to offer. And I hope you do, too.

xo

Leah V.

Fat Girl Style Guide: Color Blocking

Myth: Fat Girls Can't Wear Bright Colors or Color Block.

Why? Because it makes them look bigger or brings unwanted attention to their 'problem' areas.  

Photo: Danni Little

First of all, an area of your body is only a 'problem' if YOU make it one. If you decide that you do, in fact, have an area that you just absolutely hate, then my suggestion is to change it or learn to accept it.

We've got to rewire our minds and thinking about our body and how we view it. Also about fashion and style. Because rules are sometimes meant to be broken.

Color blocking is simple and basically utilizes two (or more) bright colors to contrast one another. So here, I have a white vest with a red skirt from Society+ 

Color blocking gives a clean, contemporary look with an edgy feel. And is a style technique that anyone can partake in, even fat gals and guys :)

Shades: Have H.I.P.S. + Turban: Flossy's Suitcase + Shirt: Wal-Mart

A lot of people ask me, as a stylist, how can the cover or hide a big stomach or flabby arms with clothes. I tell them that they can either wear black all day, every day. And that no amount or kind of clothing will 'cover' or 'hide' the parts they don't care for. 

And furthermore, why are we always trying to hide and conceal everything?!? Because when you take your clothes off, it's just going to all hang out there anyways. lol.

Shoes: Payless

I want all my fat fashionistas to choose some crazy, bright colors and try color blocking! Make sure you hashtag #LeahVDaily on Instagram so I can see how you rock it!

And don't forget to visit Society+ and check out all the cool new inventory!

Eid Glam: Tips on Finding the Perfect Eid Ensemble

Eid is my favorite Islamic Holiday. Why? You feel all triumphant because you cursed less during Ramadan, the people who worked your last nerve you managed to NOT go off on, and although you passed out a few times from hunger and thirst, you managed to fast for the entire month.

Congratulations.

Now, it’s time for the day everyone has been waiting for: Eid Fashions. We’ve waited all year long to see which sister is going to pull off that one-of-a-kind red carpet look at the Eid day events.

Here are a few tips on getting ready for the big day:

1.       Don’t Wait Till The Last Minute

I’ve seen this happen so many times with my girlfriends. Their looking through the magazines and ohhing and ahhing at the pretty colors. Twenty-eight days have passed because of the indecision, and they rush out to get whatever’s left at the mall the day before. Don’t be that person. Get your major pieces sewed or purchased early. You’ll be much more satisfied and stress-free. 

Photo: Lil Miss JB Style    Tulle Skirt: Society +

2.       Think Outside Of The Box

Before, I became a fashion blogger and a wardrobe stylist, the worst thing in the world happened to me. Two years in a row, I was caught wearing the same outfit as someone else. Needless to say, my friends joked about this All. Day. Long. Groans.

Of course there’s no sure way to not have the same outfit on as someone else, but I challenge you to think outside of the box when choosing your Eid outfit. Fashion is fun and daring. Pick a color or a concept and build your outfit around that.

Tip: Shop away from the malls and stores nearest you. Drive out to new stores in other cities because they have a whole array of fresh items to choose from that maybe your neighbor hadn’t thought of.

#tbt 2009

3.       Execution Is Everything

I’ve partook in some hideous Eid outfits (Check out the green monstrosity above). Make sure that whatever you decide to wear you execute it properly and you are comfortable and confident in it.

4.       Accessorize!!!

I want to see you doused in accessories this Eid. Like peacock feather head pieces, crowns, large hooped earrings, midi rings, and statements neckpieces.

Since Eid will fall in the summer, these are a few styles I’d like to see you guys rock:

Colors: Yellows, Reds, Electric Blues, and Whites

Patterns: Aztec prints, stripes, Paisley, geometric shapes, polka dots, and dark tye-dies

Textures: Lace, linen, silk, chiffon, and velvet

Photo: Remy Roman    Wrap Dress and Accessories: Peacock Room Detroit

I can't wait to see all of your Eid outfits in the next week! Make sure you hashtag #LeahVDaily

And don't forget to follow me on IG: Lvernon2000

Also, you check out the original post on Eid Glam at Muslimgirl.net

Natural Makeup Tips For Girls With Melanin

Oh, how I love makeup. I just went to Sephora yesterday and almost had a heart attack because all of the pretty colors and lippie samples. I touched and sampled...everything. It's been a tough ass week. And I deserved it. Spending money that I don't really have. But guess what?! Don't judge me.

So I want to chat about skin and makeup application and my regimen for my caramel complexion. In these sets of photos my MUA, Madinah M., gave me a natural, everyday look. And everything that I know about cosmetics comes from her. So pay attention:

If you don't have eyebrows like me, lol, then you'll have to fill those bad boys in with a pencil. I suggest using shades of brown depending on your complexion. I use Wet'n'Wild in dark brown. Black pencils are waaaaaay too harsh. Don't do it! After you fill them in, use a spoolie (basically, a clean mascara wand) to blend.

After the brows you can do a simple wing line. And there's really no simple way to do a wing line. I'm still struggling. But there are many, many makeup tutorials on YouTube that will help ya out. I like to use the eyeliner pen with the felt tip by Stila. Better precision. Plus perfection takes practice, people! So if you end up looking like a raccoon, at least you can say you tried. Tip: less is always more. Haha

Next, you can do some false lashes if your feeling pizzazz-y.

Get some foundation. I like Estee Lauder Double-Wear Liquid Foundation. It's nice and sheer. Not too much for a natural makeup look. I dab it all over my face in dots then use this soft synthetic foundation brush to blend the shit out of it.

Please. Please. Get the right color foundation. Don't be out here with an ashy lookin' face. Don't know your correct color? Try at least three different shades. The one that blends into your skin seamlessly is the right color. The ones that look ashy is too light and the ones that make you look several shades darker than your real skin tone is too dark.   

Apply a little blush. You'll need two soft, angled brushes. One for the light one and one for the dark one (M.A.C.). The peach toned blush (Klean Colour), I placed on top and then the darker one, I placed on the bottom (for a little contour action). Stroke at an angle, blending towards your side burn.

Apply some gloss or a matte cream lippie. The nude gloss I'm wearing is Milani Bare Secret.

Boom! There you have it. A natural, yet beat face to the Gawds. Hope you enjoyed my little makeup tips for girls with some melanin.

For more makeup and fashion looks follow us: Madinah and Leah V. on the Instagram!

How to Rock a Plus-Size Tutu Like a Boss

I have a vision board that I created with my friend a few years ago...three to be exact. It sits on my black dresser right behind my mirror. It's a staple, just sitting there reminding me of what I should be dreaming of every single day. It's a reminder that I CAN be whatever it is that I want to be. It's a reminder that I should strive for those goals every day. A few times, I fell away from life and I went back to the board and just read the quotes and glared at the pictures of plus models that I'd pasted on it.

When I was making the board, I thought it was only fun to cut out the pictures from the magazines and play in glitter. Three years later (and a whole lotta' shit), the things on the board has come into fruition. Whoa!

One of them was to model for a company out of state.  

We all know Jessica Kane. If you don't know, get to know her. She's a model, body pos advocate, businesslady, and mommy! She's also a great friend and a visionary...I'll tell you why shortly.

I know, your probably like, ALL bloggers do this. They work with a company and make us care but they only want sales! Let me tell you this, I'm not a TYPICAL blogger. I'm an artist first and foremost. I like quality just as much as you guys do and I've turned down countless projects because it didn't align with my brand or my community.

As you all know, I'm Muslim and I'm black. I come from the ghetto's of Detroit. Right? Cool. A lot of companies don't want to bother with me because I can't show my body. Yada yada yada. And me being Muslim is an issue for some. I'm waaaay too 'Out of the Box' for some so they'd rather work with other bloggers. I get it. It's safe not utilize me. You either get me or you don't.

Jess took a chance on me. She allowed me to be myself. Encouraged me to be different. And for that, she's got a fan for life.

So Society+ got in touch with me. I'm like waaaaaaaa! Someone gets me. Someone likes me and trusts me with their clothes. Man, I felt super accomplished. They sent me a few pieces and I'm like yaaaaas. This shit is on point. The clothes are great quality, true to size, and not too expensive. And the tutus... They are thick and full.

I did an entire shoot Downtown Detroit with Reel Clever Films and my little crew as we changed right in the middle of the street into four other outfits. It was fast-paced, fun, and tiring, and lovely. Lol. We got these great shots of the caged top (also from Society+) and the olive tutu.

Rock the TUTU! Why? Cuz it's super cute and feminine.

Wardrobe Breakdown:

Society+: Caged Crop Top and Tutu (Purchase here!)

Purse: TJ Maxx

Accessories: Forever 21

Shoes + Legging: Torrid  

Undershirt: My own

Fat Girl Guide: Affordable Shopping

Person: Ohmageeerd, Leah V. you must have so much money because you always look so fly. Me: *Side-eye*

Not sure how many style/fashion bloggers get this but We. Are. Not. Rich. A lot of us fund our own shopping obsessions. Haha. And if you are a blogger who is rich. Kudos. Keep doing you boo boo!  

Anyways, style doesn't necessarily equate to having lots of money. *Clears throat* Let me repeat this again. Some people think because they have all the designer clothes and bags and nails and lashes that it automatically makes them fashionable. Nope.  

Rolling in dough doesn't mean that you are stylish. The most stylish people that I've met are people who are creative, thinks outside the box, and aren't apologetic about what they wear or where they get it from. Before thrifting became the 'IN' thing to do, there were tons of people going through those old racks of clothes at the Salvation Army and rocking that shit like it was no tomorrow.   

The long shirt $24.99 (Ashley Stewart) and necklace $10 (Charming Charlie's) are both clearance items.

1. BE A CLEARANCE RACK QUEEN

Don't be embarrassed. Walk right in the clothing store and bypass all the pretty mannequins and head straight to that crazy looking rack with items of random clothes hanging off it. You have made it to the clearance section, where you will dig through all the 'out-of-season' items to find a gem.

And listen. You can't be lazy when it comes to searching the clearance rack. You've got to be patient and dig in if you really want a deal. I'd say about 90% of the time, I find at least one thing I love.   

 *Also applies to online shopping. Hit the clearance tab on your fave website.

Long open vest on clearance $16.49 (Target) and floral leggings are from Torrid using a coupon.

2. Combine Purchases with Coupons

Lots of stores have rewards programs, haute cash (where you buy a certain amount and get credit on your next purchase), and of course, coupons. When they ask for your email or address, give it to em! Not only will they keep you updated on new shipments, but once in a while a nice little coupon comes along with the advertisement. Those will help keep down the cost of your purchases. Now, I try to shop at only the places I have coupons for. Of course, sometimes, you will have to buy something for a special occasion and not have a coupon, but for the majority of your shopping, try to do it this way in order to save every valuable dollar.

Tip: Put on a puppy dog face and ask the cashier if they have any coupons behind the counter. Sometimes, it works.

Sweater (Kmart) Nicki Minaj Collection $10.99 on clearance.

3. Thrift Stores and Consignment Shops

Check out your local vintage, thrift, and consignment shops. Basically, these clothes have been worn by other people. They've either donated the clothes or are lending them to be resold.

Tip 1: Be careful with clothes worn by other people. My advice is to thoroughly check over resale items then wash them at once after you've purchased.

Tip 2: Not all resale shops are alike. I've been to some pretty bad ones and then I've been to some really nice ones. Check them all out and see which one is the best fit for you.

Tip 3: See something you like, but maybe a button is missing or it's too big or small? Buy and repurpose it. Get creative people!  

Boots are borrowed and so is the bracelet!

Photo: Frankie Fultz

4. Borrowing

On most of my shoots, I have borrowed at least one item from a friend. Didn't have the money, but I had a shoot. You have to do what ya gotta' do. And, frankly, I'm not even ashamed to admit it. By looking at these photos, you wouldn't even know that fact. We all have that friend or family member that has all the cool stuff. You may not have the means but still want to look cute and feel good. Go borrow!

And make sure you return it clean and unscathed. It's nothing worst than a person who borrows your shit then messes it up.You break. You buy... 

Everything I have on in this photo is clearance or inexpensive.

Photo: Reel Clever Films

5. Invest in Your Clothes Wisely

Don't buy things just to say you have it or to show off. I see girls all the time with every designer label known to mankind on their bodies, walking around with a chip on their shoulder. And it's usually the worst outfit ever. Wear what you want because you like it, it fits your budget, and it makes you feel good.

By no means, am I saying to not spend money on quality clothes. Because, every once in a while, we will splurge. But just make sure you aren't breaking the bank to buy that Michael Kors dress at Saks.

Let's keep the conversation going: What's the best item you've found at a thrift store or on clearance? What's you best or worst splurge item?

The Selfie: What's So Wrong About Being Confident?

I take quite a bit of selfies. You have to take at least 10 pictures to get that perfect one with the right light and angle. I love taking them, especially when I get my face beat. The excitement is real. Too real. Most of the time, I take mine outside or on the way to an event. Usually, people are around. Now, mind you, I don't really pay attention to people who glance or even shoot me a little smile and then goes back to their business, but it's the haters that stand there and grimace and stare the entire time I'm doing it.

Umm, ahem. *Clears throat* Do you mind? A little privacy while I capture this moment of contoured elation.

There was this one time, I was taking selfies at a networking event with some friends. On each floor, we took pictures because the light said NOT TODAY! There was this couple who was watching us the whole time. You know me, I'm a nice lady, but I keep it moving. On the last floor, their hate finally erupted. "Are you guys gonna take selfies on every floor?"

The face people make when they are uncomfortable with a fat, Black, Muslim girl taking selfies.

I've had four years of therapy to get my mind and mouth right...after I snapped out of all types of angry Black woman stereotypes, I finally gave an acceptable answer. I smiled then said, "Yes, we are."

What I really wanted to say was the following: Why you all up in mine? Mind yo bizness! And lastly, why are you so bothered?!?! 

So I threw up the deuces and continued with life.

But this isn't the first time that I've taken pictures of selfies in public and got weird stares. I'd really like to know, why are these people so bothered with what I'm doing? I'm not carrying an ax or performing street tricks, I'm either modeling or taking a picture of myself at a moment where I feel good and confident. And I want to share that moment with other people, or my friends, or keep it tucked away for myself on those low days. The days when I need reminding that I AM beautiful, no matter what.  

I believe that some are angry at the things that they themselves won't allow themselves to do. So when they see me taking selfies, being unapologetic about the way I look and feel, it angers them. I also think that some people feel like taking selfies is for the vain and arrogant. Now, I can't speak for others, but that's definitely not the case for me.

Why does this make people feel uncomfortable?

Selfies are supposed to be empowering. Not this evil act that people do to annoy others. I've had a few people who never took selfies before in their life take some and tag me. What I saw were bigger smiles, chins lifted higher, and that slick glow of confidence that I live for. What's so wrong about that? Want us to walk around like unfabulous zombies? Nah. Aint happening this way. 

And this isn't just a selfie thing, it's an epidemic of people being uncomfortable with you owning it: your life, your circle, and yourself. Yes, I'm fat and I look damn good and sometimes I don't, but most of the time I do! Haha.

I have the right to be confident in my skin and in my clothes. I can strut whenever I want. I can speak with authority if I want. No, I don't think I'm better than you or anyone else, but I make decisions for me that are going to make me happy (including selfies!!!). And if you don't like it then that, my friend, is a personal problem. And I hope that you can get some help for that.

Yonce' says it better. "I ain't sorry. N****, Hell nah!"   

Let's keep the conversation going: How do you feel about selfies? Yay or nay? 

And don't forget to follow my fashion shenanigans on IG @Lvernon2000 or on Snapchat @ LeahVDaily

Hollywood In Detroit Gala

Last month, I was contacted by Amanda Bankston who works with several organizations, including Detroit Passport to the Arts. I was referred to her by a friend, Ramona, who owns this fab vintage resale shop in Highland Park. She said that I'd be a great addition to co-hosting their "Hollywood in Detroit" event at the Detroit Institute of Arts.

Any reason I have to dress up and get my face beat, you know I'm there!

Photo courtesy of Grace Liang

A few other local bloggers and fashion enthusiasts joined me on stage to talk about their businesses and their fashion inspirations.

As you can see, I played the fashion curator here, which I was very nervous about. I didn't know there was going to be an actual stage and a real microphone. Haha. I was also given notes with key points to remember, and I have a really bad memory which added to the nervousness. All in all, I didn't eat much before the show, so I was good and most importantly, I didn't vomit!

Right to Left: Grace, Jason, Me, and Ramona

As you all know, I'm in the D (what us natives call Detroit). And there's not a lot of opportunity here for creatives like LA or New York. So it's a definite hustle. Also, finding a genuine support group is also one in a million. Did my ladies come and support? They sure did. I was happy to see my friends and blogger buddies weather the snow storm to come support me at the event. I love yall!

Plus my friend/MUA came to take my pictures. Hehe. She's the only one who can get my good angles.

Rocking the Sephora Matte lippie in red. It's a really great product that doesn't leave your lips too dry like a lot of matte creams do.

Feelin' myself. Ladies (and gents) I suggest you try it out sometime. lol.

Ain't nothing wrong with a little belly jiggle. Yall feel me?

Ensemble Breakdown:

Turban: Joanne's Fabric Store (Yup, I'm crafty.)

Dress, Accessories, and Stole: Forever 21

Long Sheer Outer Dress: Torrid

Flats: Christian Sirano for Payless  

#BlackGirlMagic

This right here...is the epitome of #BlackGirlMagic

Your too angry. Your too aggressive. Your clothes are too tight. You got on too much makeup. Is your husband old? Does he beat you? Why do you cover your hair? Oh, you're from Detroit? You need to lose weight. Do you carry bombs under your scarf? Oh, you write? Everyone does that. Hehe.

These are a few of the real life questions and comments that I've received over the past few years.   

With the presence of Google, people just don't seem to get it. They don't get that my labels or the attributes that I was born with don't always define ME.

I like 80's alternative rock. I love soul food. I have several piercings. No tats. I have like a trillion degrees. I'm butt broke. And I enjoy Sci-fi fiction and X-men.   

Out of the blue, a local photographer emailed me. She introduced herself very nicely as Brooklyn Cashmere, said she followed me on the gram, and would like to do a shoot collaboration.

Here's the thing: I love to collaborate with unheard voices, local businesses, people who are hungry but don't get the recognition they necessarily deserve, or just don't have the access. For me, it's like the underdog winning the race.

I emailed her back saying fa' sho! WHEN and WHERE?

We met up in Downtown Detroit at this little bowling/pizza place. It was a weekday. No one was there. Great. We sat down and just talked. I asked her what she was about, what her angle was. She told me that she connected to my words more so than my fashion. I thought that shit was deep. Because, I'm like a writer first and fashion is a close second. She said that she was apprehensive to contact me because people in this industry can sometimes have some fucked up attitudes. I told her, trust me, I know the deal. People get a couple of followers on Tumblr or Instagram and their whole attitude changes into Mariah Carey status.

If you know me, or met me in person, I'm the type of gal that goes off energy and vibes. Brooklyn's vibe was cool, down-to-earth. I told her what I was about, too. My journey. I asked her what concept she had for a shoot. She said she wanted to go with the flow.

I said let's do something powerful. I want to be a rock star. And not just any rock star, but a rocker turbanista. I wanted fierceness. Anger. Confidence. And beauty wrapped into one.

I wanted to scream, kick, sing, smash things, and bring the Naomi Campbell attitude to level: 1000. Brooklyn was like ok! Lol. I searched Pinterest for ideas. Found some dope photos. I sent my MUA, Madinah some beauty ideas. And the day came and I was excited to kick ass.

This shoot was super experimental, and we all went in with a positive attitude. As artists, we have this idea in our heads of how we want something to go and it goes the way its supposed to.

I love for my photosets to tell the reader or viewer something. I want these photos to get you talking, get you thinking, and get you up and out of your shell. The shell that we all have a tendency to hide behind. Trust me, I have a few of them.

So to loop back around, remember all those crazy comments above? The ones people had said to me? This shoot is for all of you. Yeah, I'm still broke, haha. But I'm much happier because I'm being true to myself, and at the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

Yes, I'm angry, and, yeah I'm assertive still, but I have some good qualities, too. And they all intertwine together to make me, ME.  

Shoutout to the genius behind the camera, Brooklyn Cashmere and my MUA and friend, Madinah M.

Yall want the look?

Turban: Wrapped by me!

Dress: Divno Je

Shades: Forever 21

Jacket: JC Penney's

Jewelry (including lace gloves): Hot Topic

Leggings: Torrid

Boots: Payless