“Ghetto” is how my father described them when I unveiled my fresh set. The sheer excitement I felt when tapping my nails on every surface in my way eclipsed the fear of my parents reacting to my new nail length. When it came time to polish them, I opted for colorful French tip nails with each finger a different color. She sized the plastic tips to my fingers, glued them down, and repeated those steps before applying monomer liquid with the polymer acrylic powder.
#Florence griffith joyner full
I pushed my luck and told my nail artist to do a full set instead of our usual manicures. The sound of clacking nails felt like a beat exclusive to the bad bitches of the Bronx, and I wanted to join in on the rhythm too. My older sister’s signature look was long, square-shaped nails in loud neon brights and intricate line designs she incessantly tapped on counters when passing by, on her phone when sending a text message, and on her teeth when she was agitated.
By the time I reached sixth grade, I graduated from sneak-buying Rite Aid press on nails to accompanying my older sister to the nail salon on Saturday mornings so often, we had our own regular nail artist. Some Sundays we opted for French tips, other times we settled for whatever design could get us in and out of the store before our parents would notice we were even gone. My best friends and I would beeline to the drug store’s nail aisle to use our pocket money to buy press-on nails.
The genesis of my journey to being grown started in the aisles of my local Rite Aid after Sunday church service. Then, it’s time to unlock the final frontier of your “I’m grown as hell” phase: an acrylic nail set. When you’re born and raised in the Bronx, there are rites of passage every girl checks off by the time she reaches middle school, from snagging your first pair of Air Jordans to the feeling of 20 inches of yaki straight brushing against your bra-strap after your first sew-in. From Janet Jackson to Eartha Kitt, here are love letters to our Black Beauty icons who made us feel a little less invisible. For the State of Black Beauty, we asked four writers to recall the instance in their life they felt SEEN in media.
For many Black women, that feeling is few and far between.
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