Stood Up

When I first opened the package containing the crimson dress covered in a pattern of white hearts, my immediate thought was “Date Night”. But after quick contemplation, I realized I would not be able to accurately depict something photographically that is beyond my experience. I therefore opted for “Stood Up” as the inspiration for the photo shoot as I have more than enough experience in that arena. (I should also point out that being “ghosted” is the online equivalent of being stood up).

The photo shoot brought a myriad of thoughts, feelings and experiences to the surface. Thoughts, feelings and experiences that I would rather pretend don’t exist, except that I can’t… Because sadly these are still on the highlight reel of the current events of my life.

With the exception of one, I have been ghosted by EVERY SINGLE guy that I have ever been interested in, thought that I was building a connection with, or claimed was interested in me.

Men don’t like me. At least that’s the narrative that has been reinforced over the 3 decades of my life, starting from my father. I try to convince myself otherwise. I tell myself that I am amazing and that I am worthy of being loved and accepted, that I am quit the catch. Well, the guys that I have talked to would beg to differ. With the exception of one, I have been ghosted by EVERY SINGLE guy that I have ever been interested in, thought that I was building a connection with, or claimed was interested in me. I still don’t understand if I’m doing something wrong to send them packing without so much as a goodbye or if they only pretended to interested. After all, these are men who approached me, men who claimed to be interested in me, men who wanted to talk to me and supposedly wanted to contact my father because they were just sooooo seriously interested. The lies and deception yall, lies and deception.

What’s the point of it all, I wonder? My younger, more naive self could never fathom that a guy would pretend to like me because I couldn’t understand what he would have to gain from it. I don’t always understand why “normal” people do what they do. I suppose it’s entirely possible that they became uninterested once they realized I was an actual person and not just a picture (surprise!). But I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t affect me a bit at times. You can tell yourself you’re fabulous all you want but when guy after guy keeps pulling the vanishing act your brain comes up with two options: there is something wrong with you or all men are lousy. Now obviously those are both false statements but sometimes the consciousness likes to oversimplify for the sake of self preservation. Because gosh dangit I AM fabulous [and quirky, kind, intelligent and a whole of positive (and negative) qualities].

Some of you may know I have been on a journey to prove that not only are there great men out there, but there is one out there for me. It’s been a rather tragic journey, I must confess. I’ve been taking a breather from all of the matrimony apps because sis! it was getting dark out there and I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my life. Lol. But I haven’t given up hope! No ma’am, I will not be defeated! #ChallengeAccepted #NotTodaySatan

My youtube series Kissing Khadeejah documenting my journey to find love.

I thought it was important for me to talk openly about this because for years, so many people, people who know me, have insinuated that the cause of my singleness is that I am rejecting all who are interested, which to be clear, is not many at all. The fact is, they keep leaving me. I guess I’ve just been too embarrassed to come clean because I thought to made me look bad. I allowed people to believe I was some cold, heartbreaking maneater.

Heartbreaker

I dont know what is about me that has people thinking I go around collecting hearts in jars and leaving scars
They think….
Im a heart breaker
And its crazy to me because I stand before today to declare that never have
A heart
I broken
Rather it is my heart
My soul
My feelings and emotions that have been trampled over
By actions about which go unspoken
Discarded like a toy that is no longer new and there therefor devoid of interest and value
But its my own fault you see
I have this need to control the story
So when men do wrong to me
I do right by them
When people ask what went wrong, I shoulder the responsibilty
And never blame him
Because
I guess
Maybe
Perhaps
At the end of the day
Id rather be seen as cruel
Than look like a fool – FKA

By the way ya’ll, dont forget to check out all the photos from my Stood Up photo shoot here!

My Hate-Hate relationship with Self Promotion

15% off all purchases at koveredinjoy.ecwid.com AND FREE SHIPPING!! … no forreal! Promocode: HAJJ2019

Ok, now that that is out of the way.

A random facebook friend and fellow entrepreneur messaged me about some of the woes of being in business with oneself and invited me to join her in promoting our respective businesses EVERY DAY OF AUGUST. As daunting as it sounds, I’m actually going to try, I mean, I have no shortage of businesses to promote. By the way, check out my other page, oddballcreativesllc.wordpress.com.

Now that the challenge is on, I have to finish a poem I started, do a photoshoot to pair with said poem, and post to my million social media outlets….

Pray for me yall😘

Is My Black Really Beautiful

Just putting it out there, Asian men, #indian, #Pakistani and #Bengali men make me feel so ugly because I’m a #blackwoman. And I’m talking, next level, Smeagol, the Gollum from Lord of The Rings, type ugly. They make me feel like I am less than, beneath them; like I’m a mangy stray dog they found in the woods that they play with, have a great time, become great friends with but at the end of the day, leave in the woods because dogs aren’t allowed in the house.

Perhaps this may sound harsh, but it’s not meant to be harsh or offensive and I’m not backbitting simply by stating how I FEEL. And no one can deny, or bring up a defense to how I, or anyone else feels about something, so please, don’t try.

I’ve seen some of my fellow #BMW (black muslim women) speak out on this and have seen them verbally attacked and torn apart for voicing their experiences and feelings. You cannot invalidate someone’s truth just because it makes you uncomfortable.

And one of my truths is, as stated above, is that Asian men make me feel #ugly. They make my skin, hair, features, background, ancestors all feel ugly and unacceptable. And before you ask why I singled out Asian men, it’s because that’s where my experience lies. In my very limited experience with, say, #Arab men, they either deny my existence all together or I’m the dog they adore and want to take home but their mamas are allergic.

But here’s the thing, you dont need my experience, ask just about any BMW of a certain age. They nearly all have a story to tell. Let’s face it, black people, black women have been seen as the lowest of low globally since, well, practically forever. And if you don’t believe that, educate yourself.

And I’m not the kind of person who ever cared about or focused on #race, but when you’re constantly rejected because of it, your perspective starts to shift.

You have to start actively trying to accept and love yourself not just as a woman, but as a black woman. Honestly, growing up I never cared one way or the other about my race, it was just part of who I was, like being female or short. I look very, what one would call “ethnically black” and never did I see it as a problem. But as I got older and more exposed to the world and saw and experienced how much negativity is associated to that one aspect of me. I started to understand why women would repeat #MyBlackIsBeautiful, creating a positive association with our race and features to combat the hate we get from all sides. And when I say all sides, I mean all sides. Many of our own men find us distasteful and, wait for it, some of our very own black women think we should try to be “less black”, whatever the heck that means. 😐

In #Islam, racism, colorism, culturalism are all explicitly forbidden, but I suppose people will be people, Muslim or not😕. And for those with blinders on and are in denial that racism is alive and kicking within the Muslim community, it’s story time!

I’ve been on a Muslim marriage website for a couple years now, not and active or paying member but I wanted to get an idea of what’s out there. Well, let me just tell you, those websites, no matter how much they claim they are for practising Muslims are not really made for black #muslimahs. Now my profile clearly states that I’m black. But it’s as if guys are like “she sounds incredible.. but… dang, she why gotta be black though.. maybe she doesn’t look black 🤔 *requests photo*”. 99% Of the asian guys disappear as soon as they see me. (About 85% of the Arab guys disappear). Just the other day a guy messaged me, we coincidentally went to the same university. He was all gungho about getting to know me, said he uploaded some photos and hoped we could do a photo exchange. My… slightly irritated and possibly uncalled for response, “I’m so done with all the racism on this website. I’m a black woman, as my profile clearly states. If that’s a problem for you, stop right now.” He stopped. Oh I have sooo many other stories. A little tip, if a guy’s profile says he’s open to all ethnicities…. don’t believe it.. or maybe it’s not because I’m black at all, maybe I’m just #fugly😂💁

I’m Just a Small Town Girl

I need to talk about my little #adventure yesterday. I really wanted to see the city to explore and see if I’d feel comfortable #downtown. I’m from #smallville #ohio, also known a Xenia, OH. I’m the smallest of small town girls. I’m the girl next door. Up until recently I was extremely shy. So when I say I wasn’t ready for my encounters yesterday…Lord! ….. I WAS NOT READY. I have never ever ever saw myself as even remotely attractive, cute, pretty or anything of the sort. Don’t get me wrong, i love me some me, but like I said, I’m just the girl next door type.. So when I started to get hit on and leered at to the point that I wanted to jump into the river it was all new. And a little uncomfortable. Being looked at the way I look at mac and cheese is, well, #gross. Especially being a #muslimah and someone who #covers. Im used to creeps sliding in my inbox, but that.. y’all 😣😣😣😣 #ICantEven.

One Dress, Three Ways

Hello Sweeties! Happy Saturday

Well, after finally figuring out how to separate my blog posts so that my style posts don’t get mixed up with my everyday, we can finally get this started. 🙂

When I’m not working, it’s pretty much all dresses and skirts for me. Though I don’t consider myself girly, I’m extremely, unapologetically “feminine” (whatever that means). I honestly feel like there is nothing I can’t do in a dress. I’ve worked out in them, rode bikes in them, planted gardens in them. I’m unstoppable in dress! Now, I’m not anti-pants or anything like that and I do wear them on occassion(like to work). But I honestly, I barely own any. Seriously, aside from work pants, I have… two pair… no lie. Pants really don’t represent my style and well, I’m short and finding pants (not jeans, hate jeans) in my lenght is darn near impossible.

Anyhoo.

My outfit of.. Wednesday. The main piece was the black floral polkadotted dress.

20170510_122210-01 For the first look, I the dress with a coral toned cardigan, the belt that came woth the dress, a bright yellow scarf/hijab, and open toed heels. If you’re feeling especially colorful.

 

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For the second, more toned down look, I switched to a pair fow white slip on sneakers, threw on a soft black jacket and a black scarf/hijab for a girly, edgy vibe.

 

For the last look, I dropped the sneakers and replaced them with black, knee high boots. I added a long sleeve black t-shirt, lost the belt for added modesty and threw on that vibrant orange print scarf because I was feeling daring and wanted to mix patterns. I also threw on the black, elbow length gloves because the sleeves to the t-shirt didn’t quite reach my wrists and added some colorful bangles for fun.

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La Femme Khadeejah

Ok Sweeties! Today is Wednesday and I’m embarking on something new. Or at least, attempting to. First thing you should know about me is, I abhor fashion. I hate the idea that this or that is what people “should be wearing”. I hate trends, being “in style” etc. Now, I absolutely love clothes as a form of SELF expression. Expressing yourself, your personality, not what people suggest you express.

All that being said, the thing I need to express, to the entire world, every single day I step out of my home is: I am a proud Muslim woman. I’m a covered girl. My dress not only expresses my personality but my religious devotion. Now there are a ton of Hijabi fashionistas or Hijabistas and modest fashion and bloggers are all the rage these days. Muslimah is the new black. And as a firm anti trend follower, while respect what they do, It wasn’t for me and I was not about to be just another hijabi beauty blogger.

BUT

I’ve noticed a newly developed need. The thing about modest fashion, is that the term  modest is open to interpretation and there are varying degrees what is considered modest. But the most popular bloggers and icons in the modest movement don’t dress like me. They don’t cover as much. This is in no way a judgement, it’s an observation. They are out there slaying the game and in many ways are helping the way this country (The US) views Muslim women.

I’m the laid back chick who never has her face beat, eyebrows are never on fleek, I do not now, nor will I ever rock a turban. I don’t expose my neck, any portion of my hair or arms, I avoid tight clothes and I hate pants, lol. But I haven’t seen any one out there that represents girls & women like me. Now I’m not someone who ever needed representation, I never needed to see myself on television, in magazines. But I realize, most people do. Most people crave seeing their likeness in the media for validation. Hence the need I previously mentioned. I have nieces. My baby girls. 8 months to 18 years old. And I’m starting this new “fashion/style” blog for them. For the covered girls.

I Was Abused…

Upon reflections of my upbringing,
It truly is no surprise
That the first man I ever “loved”
Would have been mentally abusive
In every sense of the term.

– Kat

​I don’t talk about it, not to anyone. I’ve only ever told really told one person about some of the horrors I endured for an entire year of my early twenties. My friends at the time didn’t know half, a fourth even, of the mind games, guilt trips and manipulation that man put me through. I couldn’t tell my sister, I was too ashamed. Truth is, I didn’t have anyone I trusted enough to talk about it to. I felt isolated and alone. And anyone who knows anything about abuse of any kind, the abused almost always feels that way; alone, with no way out. And unless you’ve actually been in that situation, you will never, and mean never, understand what it’s like. You’ll never understand the conditions that led to a victim being a victim, and staying a victim.
I had no confidence, no self esteem, no self worth. I had no idea what a functional relationship was supposed to look like, feel like. I had no clue how a man was supposed to treat a woman, or what it was to be  truly respected or cared for.

In the beginning, he made me feel special, desired, and loved. I fell hard. Things moved at a lightening fast pace, and almost immediately we talking about our future and marriage. But it didn’t take long for things to start going south. He would ignore my messages, disappear for weeks at a time, delete me on social media then pop back up saying he missed me, and that he loved me and was “going though stuff”. And the few times I mustered up enough courage to stand up for myself, he’d twist things around and I’d end up being the one apologizing (he was exceptionally good at that). Apologizing for not being understanding enough. Apologizing for not being a good enough woman, saying I’d do better. I distinctly remember begging him not to leave me. It sounds crazy doesn’t it?

Intellectually, I knew the way he was treating me wasn’t right, but at that point in my life, I’d only ever known a man to make his woman miserable, so in a sense, it was almost normal. I would say things to myself like, “who am I to think I deserve a perfect man? I’m certainly not perfect, so I should take the bad with the good.” Or, “Once we’re married, it’ll all be ok.” I was determined to be dedicated, unwavering in my devotion to him because he had a hard life and I  was going to stand by my man. Be a “ride or die”. It all sounds so foolish now, but I’m older, smarter and more importantly, I now possess the self worth that I simply didn’t have back then. But I can remember exactly what it felt like. Feeling like, if I ever lost him, no other man would possibly ever love me. It was my one chance at a happy ending, I couldn’t let my pride get in the way of that. It’s sad to think that as neglected, rejected and sometimes despised I felt by him, somewhere in my mind, I guess somehow still believed he loved me. Or maybe I didn’t believe he loved me. It’s interesting the way your brain finds a way to justify the unjustifiable so you can sleep at night.

I remember how exhausting it was pretending everything was ok, I couldn’t endure being called silly and ridiculous by friends for not ending things, I couldn’t have my sister being disappointed in me, I needed her support more than anything and if she knew of all the nights I cried myself to sleep because of how badly he treated me, she would never accept him. So the worse it got, the more distant I became to others. If he and I were on one of our many “off again” periods, I didn’t say a word, I knew we’d be back on again and all would be right.
I’m not shy about the fact that I have daddy issues, mommy issues, attachment issues, trust issues, abandonment issues and pair all that with my self image issues, I was literally the perfect storm, so to speak, for abuse.
I was a girl desperate for a man’s love while feeling utterly undeserving of it.

My mother still thinks just carelessly cast him aside like I’m some kind of heart breaker and that we were such a cute couple and that I should have  married him. Truth be told, even after everything, after he revealed that he hooked with some chick because he was lonely, I would have. I would have still married him if he’d let me. Thankfully, through a certain circumstance that I won’t reveal, God saved me from it, and from him, because I was powerless to save myself.

Fast forward to last year(or maybe the year before). I open up my Kik app and that man had actually had the audacity to message me say something along the lines of him knowing he messed up bad (darn skippy) and that I probably wouldn’t give him another chance (preach) but he’d like to still at least be friends (boy bye!). See, he thought I was still in victim mode and would race back to him. Sorry boo, I’m a queen now. 

You’re Beautiful.. Just The Way You Are


Wake up in the morning and look in the mirror

Tell yourself you’re beautiful

With your messy hair and sleepy eyes

Walk around in your underwear…

Or nude

If you’re ever so daring, take a selfie..or ten

Look at you

Really look at you

Forget every other body you’ve ever seen

On T.V., in the magazines, in your life

You have no business comparing your body to theirs.

For a second, just pretend that no other bodies exist

Just yours

It’s not so bad when you’re not trying to measure it up to others is it?

Pear shaped

Square shaped

Stretch marks

Thighs that have touched since forever

Squishy stomach

Hyper-pigmentation

Hairy

Small breast

Scars

Short legs

No butt

Huge butt

Knobby knees

Whatever your unique body story

We’re not meant to be carbon copies of each other

Stay active

Get strong

Eat healthy

Eat icecream

Take care of yourself

Just be your best you and love it.

-Krazy Aunt Kat

I’ve Always Been Afraid To Want

Hello Sweetie!

Feliz Martes!

Hope your week is going well thus far. Nothing to complain about on my end. Yesterday, I got called into work and I was more than happy to do so! I need every extra hour I can get so it was great. Another pretty great thing happened as well.

I can’t recall if I wrote about the Graphic Design internship that I applied for some weeks ago. Well, as I was leaving work yesterday evening, walking the empty halls of the already closed museum, I saw that I had a couple missed calls and a voice message. Hmmm? I figured it was about one of the millions of jobs I’d applied for. Nope! It was about the internship, which I’m sure you’ve already guessed. He wanted me to call him back to discuss the position and what not. And I fully intended to do so. But he beat me to it! I’d accidentally left my phone on vibrate last night rather than on mute (my phone is on mute 90% of the time) and thank goodness I did because that vibration woke me up to the most incredible phone call.

No, I don’t know if I’ll actually get the internship, but guys, listen to me when I say that in that moment, everything felt possible. Just put yourself out there, try, take chances. I know its cliché but truly, the only failure is failing to try. And y’all….. I was just browsing images of the company… OH. MY.GOSH. It’s so gorgeous that it brought tears to my eyes. Granted that could have been because #1 PMS, #2 Allergies are kicking my but. Either way, I felt some strong emotions looking at those images, lol. But I had the ugliest thought, that creeped right in before I could stop it: This place is too beautiful and perfect, I’m not that lucky. 

You see, for a long time I’ve refrained from wanting things too deeply because, that’s how you get disappointed. But I’ve made a vow to myself that I won’t live that way anymore. If I don’t get the things I want, fine, it’s for the best, but dangit, now when I want something, I will at least try to attain it! And boy do I want that internship.

Hugs & Kisses

-Krazy Aunt KAt