About GirlrillaVintage the Blog

vintage graced my bones before i ever knew what grace was. humility. mama shopped free. had us convinced that we made the clothes worth something; during a time when rocking rabbit fur and knitted hats in 4th grade could get you stomped out (schoolyard pizza lol). when all the kids had the latest (bk's, guess, reeboks, gold chains), mama glorified the ‪#‎handmedown‬, dark spots on bananas. took bleach and water to mothball and avon stink, her and the scrub-board worked it out. that's why i'm so girlrillavintage-girl real with her vintage. vintage was my first home on earth and it cost me nothing. gave me courage. taught me bout grace before i even knew who she was.

Scalp-Greasing: A Black Hair Ritual

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Greasing or oiling the scalp has historical roots for black Afrikans born in America. In fact as we’ve become more knowledgeable about the benefits of natural oils, scalp oiling has become common practice among people of all ethnicities to maintain healthy hair and scalp. This entry will highlight how it relates directly to the women in the #afrikanface show and to people of Afrikan descent. During enslavement, we no longer had access to #palmoil that we used in #afrika to care for our hair, so we used other oil-based products like #lard #butter #crisco to condition and soften our hair. Scalp greasing is a ritual.

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Dr. Kari explains perfectly, “The days of washing our hair at the kitchen sink, detangling in the bathroom, perhaps blow drying, and spending time on your mom’s living room floor on a pillow, nestled between her legs for that routine scalp greasing. It was a ritual that, no matter how busy life got, was NOT forgone. Part by part, inch by inch, your scalp was doused in a “miracle” grease”…

Scalp time was our love time (I wrote a poem about this). It was a time to bond, for mama to lay open her hands souls to literally groom you. It seemed almost therapeutic for both of us (even when my hair was tangled, still a tender headed ass), the way she would place a dollop of grease on the back of her hand, comb, then grease, then part, then grease some more, then plat or braid. The jewel was how she managed to have full fledged conversations, sip beer, and brushed my baby hair all fancy, adding her finishing touch. Those were the days, nights, afternoons I still long for today. Come to the show to see how the hair ritual unfolds!

Warmest,

Thee Amazing Grace B

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You Never Have To Prove Your Way

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#wcw. You never have to prove your way into anyone’s life, they just have to trust you that’s all. My mother was never one to prove anything, even when all the stakes were high and odds against her. Even through her addiction, the abuse, and disappointment I learned to trust her. She was the first one in this world that I ever had to trust. I learned to trust the parts of her process that counteracted her addiction, the visceral #spiritmama that birthed me, born me & raised me up. I remember the moment she stopped fighting to keep us although much damage had been done. It was the proudest and most painful part of growing up. I know that she cared more deeply for us than this life flesh could ever show. The day I learned to trust my mother was the day she learned to trust herself. #restinpeacemama #wcwmama #restwell #gonebeforetime #trust #girlrillavintage #tag #theeamazinggrace

Embracing My Ugly

Red Foxx said, “Beauty may be skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone”. Had someone recently ask me, how I “deal” with #adultacne. I replied that I don’t lol! They explained, apologetically in so many words about how their skin is tied to the center of their sense of self and couldn’t understand where my confidence comes from without having #flawlessskin skin. I thanked them for sharing that. I reminded them that my “scars” and #skin are part of me, not all of me. And by embracing my “ugly” I heal and feel great about my life! And no, not as in the way ugly opposes beauty because #ugliness is not the absence of #beauty. My appearance doesn’t dictate that. freeyomind #tag #girlrillavintage #uglyalookwithgreatcharacter

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Progressive: As In Black Folk Ain’t in the Equation?

The title I used amuses me, not necessarily because it’s a ridiculous concept or that I’m being sarcastic about race, or that I’m tired of talking about race, but at the moment, after speaking with a friend I might’ve been when I wrote this.

I started a social collective called, High Five the Movement: Safe & Accesible Spaces for People of Color in Lancaster PA, back in 2011, in response to the systemic race problem that targeted me and my folks personally on a regular basis, in damn near every establishment. We educate then we celebrate with community members of color and our allies about #afrikancentered teachings, ideals, social spaces then we celebrate via (dance party, art/game night etc.) It’s wild because even after all of the great lengths we went through to spread the word, to be inclusive via personal invites, canvassing, and social media NO ONE,  but us showed up. I would think is it our tone (skin and other wise)? Shit was deep because no one wanted to embrace what we had to say about the state of our community in relation to us back then.

That’s when I had to learn to be extra gentle with black people. Moments like that helped me to not internalize what was happening. Had to practice the same patience with them as I was teaching myself. Because let’s be honest, black Afrikan problems aren’t ordinary problems. Our shit is #systemic. Stems from posttraumaticslavesyndrome. Deep-rooted in racist, capitalist structures and misogyny. Our shit is extra deep, so we gotta be extra gentle with each other even just for those reasons.

I digress. Fast forwarding to when I moved away for two years, then came back this year. My extended friends and surrogate families made it an easy transition. Anyway, my point is is that I feel jaded and it’s irking to see that suddenly errrybody radical in the city. Got folks that aint even of #afrikandescent speaking on the behalf of our communities? Errrybody a spokesperson on race relations now? Coming out to speak on the behalf of colored folk with nothing, but book context? When us colored folks fight just to breathe in our own skin, just to not be a statistic, just to share a got damn sidewalk without being bullied into oncoming traffic by #msdaisy.

Not to mention #whitefolks calling Lancaster “the new Brooklyn” or as I overheard someone say “as progressive as Brooklyn? Huh? When? How? Hope we in context. Hope we in sync. Hope we NOT talkin’ ’bout #progressive as in #whengentrificationbringsracismtothehood (excellent article by the way)? The writer who is of #afrikandescent reflects on feeling like a stranger in his own #brooklyn neighborhood of #bedfordstuyvesent, in #2014. TWENTY FOURTEEN?! A whopping 3 years ago? And we are making such comparisons based on what we think we know about the progression of a place?

Hope that aint the #progress we think Lancaster is making? By pushing all black owned businesses to the edge of town, only to replace them with a million and one white washed coffeeshops, yoga studios, art galleries, and boutiques on every corner. When the only spec of color I see is myself and a print of #vincentvanghos #starrynight on canvass in a gallery that only offers the #wineandcheese to white folks. How they covet it when I reach, to get a taste, but they’ll never admit it.

Dat shit is almost as progressive as white hippies skating through the projects (thanks Jamed 😜). We gotta do better. We gotta set our own progress. PROGRESS that includes everyBODY. ‘Cause if black folks ain’t in the equation, ain’t shit progressive. #melaninmatters #coloredfolkmatter #afrikanfacepeoplematter #tag #girlrillavintage #theeamazinggrace #liberationaintfree

-Grace Berry

To the Maia Campbell’s of the World, We love you!

IMG_5349We always have the opportunity to value someone in a low place. A friend and I met a gentleman of #afrikanfacedescent yesterday who was visibly troubled. He stumbled through each step like a baby first learning to walk. His hands and arms were badly swollen and bruised. His shoulder was injured, covered in a thick, bloody gauze. His eyes were glazed over. His clothes were disheveled, draping over his frail bones. He looked fucked up! As my friend and I approached we asked how we could help him. He could barely speak. We probed until finally he agreed to some water. I ran to my house to grab something cold. It was hot out there! We encouraged him to seek medical attention, but he refused. He told us that he was a accosted by the police the night before and all he wanted was to go home. He never told us where home was. But we stayed with him, listened to him, put water on his neck, showed him that he matters. He finally got the strength to continue on to his destination. He reached to give us hugs and thanked us for our help and told us he would never forget us. His eyes became brighter just for a moment. We embraced him, tight because healing is what he needs. He might’ve been on #dope but none of that mattered. My mother was #crackaddicted and didn’t survive. Human beings are spiritual beings and they need love. Sending all my love to #maiacampbell who needs all the love she can receive.

Warmest,

Grace

Afrikan Face: Autochthonous Blood & Bone at PAVAA Gallery

Shameless plug #afrikanface showcase @pavaagallery! To show my appreciation of your support, the first 10 people will receive an @girlrillavintage #wearableartgift! I will have a #merchtable set up with my wearables for purchase. Also, there will be complementary #beverages and #snacks. Girlrillavintage and PAVAA accepts all major credit cards, so this is not a cash only event. The show starts promptly @630 pm. Running time about 40 min, followed by Q&A and mix & mingle. Doors @6. You don’t want to miss this transformative experience. Join us! Gonna be 🍌😜😘 #pavaa #pavaagallery #blackartists #blackgallery #afrikanart #girlrillavintage #blackperformance #girlrillavintageofcultchaᙠeforetheboat

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