A REAL Beauty Campaign

I talk a lot about representation of real bodies and faces in the media and especially in beauty advertisements.

I challenge you to open a magazine or check out the Instagram feed of your favorite makeup or beauty line and tell me what you see... Thin white women and thin racially ambiguous models.

Fat girls are worthy of feeling beautiful. Black girls are worthy of feeling beautiful. Dark-skinned girls are worthy of feeling beautiful. Muslim girls are worthy of feeling beautiful. So, why aren’t we being represented? Why aren’t we being shown as equal or as beautiful as our lighter skinned counterparts?

I was glad to work with an all-girl team of students from @ccs_detroit on this inclusive mock beauty ad for @milkmakeup Many times, we talk about change but don’t put in the work. They have to listen if we speak louder. Our budget was damn near none, but we are passionate about changing the narrative of unrealistic beauty standards.

If you like it, SHARE it. If you feel what I’m saying, COMMENT. If you know someone who needs to see this, SHOW them. MiLK Makeup: Intergalactic Glow Stick on the cheeks, Eye Pigment, and Lip Metal

Videographer: @elysemarcinkowski

MUA: @ilamindell

Stylist/Model: @lvernon2000

Reclaiming Time and Taking Up Space

This week has been very interesting. Well, this entire year has been interesting to say the least. I’ve learned much about setting boundaries, cutting off dead-weight friends and family who are clueless to that fact, not accountable for their actions, and high-key jealous. I’ve learned about drive, about pushing one’s self to the outer limits, where few people go. Fear of success and fear of loneliness. I’ve especially learned the two biggest lessons of them all: reclaiming my time and taking up space.

Last year, I remember asking myself, how can I top last year? How can I make my photoshoots better? My wardrobe fiercer? My voice louder? How can I be more authentic, raw, helpful? Although, I thought I was woke, I was only semi-woke because I hadn’t thought outside the box. Many of us think that we’re thinking so big, but are we really? Whatever you think could happen, could go so much farther, bigger. And, I hadn’t known this until I got to work with Adidas Originals and was flown to Canada by the University of Ottawa. All expenses paid.

Jacket Courtesy of Addition Elle

I want to talk about reclaiming time (thanks Auntie Maxine!). Now, we all know that you can’t actually reclaim time. When time is up, it’s gone, and you can never, ever get it back. With this fact, why the fuck do people waste so much of it? And, why do folks allow others to waste theirs? We have women who stay with men who verbally abuse them, treat them like shit on a stick, and they stay. Wasting good, vital years on a human who doesn’t even value their time. We have people who allow their family to belittle them, offer surface conversation, hurt feelings, and steal more of their time. Same thing with a dead-end job, how much time are they claiming from you?

Unfortunately, we can’t maximize every moment of every second of the day, and we will have to, at some point, engage in time wasted, but it’s up to you as to how much of your time you waste.

“I’ve wasted almost a decade,” I complained to my sister when I got divorced. “Do you know what I could’ve done with all that time?”

She replied, “You didn’t waste any time. You learned a lesson.”

“What did I learn?” I whined.

“Well, you learned what you don’t want in life.”

And, she was right. I did learn a great deal about what I wanted, what I needed, and what I hadn’t wanted ever again.

Do you ever meet up with someone or go to an event, and wondered why you even wasted your time going? Stop doing that. Reclaim your time. Stop doing things that you feel are going to make other people happy. Stop indulging in activities that you don’t want to do. Stop being friends with that girl that you really don’t mesh with anymore or that dude you feel inclined to be with just because. You are not doing yourself a favor. You are merely passing time, wasting time that could be spent on developing you.

I, honestly, feel bad for people like that. People who only have connections just to say they do or only going because ABC, but have no real interest in it. They aren’t really living life. Life is living them.

I used to be that person. Outwardly, I’d have a hard smile plastered on my face, but inside I was bored, dead, unenthusiastic. Why was I trying to be someone that I wasn’t? Why was I wasting time on relationships that clearly weren’t going to develop into anything but surface shit?

After being hurt by individuals who I tried to please for many, many years, I made a pact with myself. I was going to reclaim my time and only speak to people I was interested in, who I vibed with and do things that I liked to do. No more pretending to fit into this group or be cool with that group. Fuck that! In addition to my ‘fuck that’ moment, I was going to allow myself to take up space. Which meant that I was going to shine at my brightest watt without a care as to who was blinded by it.

For most of my circle, they accepted the Leah V who was changing, being more comfortable in her skin. For others, they started to hold resentment and dropped off like flies, which is fine, because that frees up space for better people to occupy. And, it has.

Sometimes, I get weirded out by all the folks that support me. It takes time getting used to. I’m a traumatized Black girl from Detroit with a trash family and a messy divorce that gets me mad from time to time, so when someone reaches out and is like ‘I got you’, it never ceases to amaze me.    

Give yourself the time and ability to reclaim your time and take up space.

xoxo,

Leah V

The Broke Artist

Clothing Courtesy of Simply Be

Too many bloggers, writers, models like to pump fake. They don’t want to tell the truth about the ‘process’ in fear of looking bad or not fitting in with the elites of social media.

Lookie, I’ve been flown out to this fancy place.

I have a fancy ass doughnut in front of a colored wall.

I’m really skinny, but I’m enjoying two scoops of fancy ice cream with my very skinny and photogenic friend.

My life is soooooo fancy and amazing.

No mental illness. No cellulite. No acne.  

Do not be fooled by pretty Instagram photos with blurred backgrounds, magical lighting effects, and poetic captions. The majority of us are struggling. Just keepin it real. *Shrugs*

I’ve never been inspired by individuals who don’t tell the truth. Who paint pictures of themselves in a certain light that just ain’t reality. Individuals who showcase the success of their careers and not the actual climb, the grueling process of making it to the top. That’s what inspires me. Your failures. The path you took and how you overcame them.

The paths we all take, artist or non, has failures riddled along them. Catastrophic ones and teeny ones. They are inevitable. Too many artists with large platforms aren’t showcasing that fact. So, their devout followers believe that the way to the top is as simple as copying a feed of someone who is successful.  

Anyone you know who has ever became an icon, most likely hadn’t done this by cutting and pasting someone else’s shit. They were innovative. Ridiculed by others. Outcasts. Weirdos growing up. They never followed trends and did their own thing no matter what others had to say about it.

They paved their own path. Created a niche.  

Obsessed with this little pink purse

A lot of us don’t even know where that path leads. We just take that leap and hope we don’t end up smashing into the ground and dying…

I started blogging in 2013. Y’all know the story. Several failed blogs and YouTube channels and years later this one caught on. During all that mess, I worked odd jobs. All of which I hated. None of them were creative or cared a fuck about me. I was just there for the paycheck. I worked on my art on and off. Mostly off. These jobs were sucking my creative juices. I’d found myself at home after work, stuck in a rut. Unable to write.

That rut lasted for five years. The worst years of my entire existence.

Somehow, by divine intervention, I was placed back on the path of art. I used my own money to buy books on editing and literature of the great storytellers of our time. I used my own money to take creative writing classes at the local community college. I joined discussion boards and wrote and read and wrote and read some more.

I worked just to invest money back into my art (and, of course, pay the dreaded adult bills). Money that could’ve went into paying off my student loans or purchasing a house or maybe traveling…

I had read all the books and took all the classes, but I still wasn’t getting anywhere. So, I decided to get my masters in creative writing. I went back and forth about it. I already had about 20,000 worth of debt left from my bachelor’s. More debt! I literally fought myself. I was really gonna spend that much money on another degree. But, my art was on the line. I had to at least see where it could take me. I prayed then took a gamble.

No one will ever invest in you like YOU will.

No one will ever be as invested in your art, your passion like YOU will.

Top + Skirt + Shoes 

And, with that mentality and stubbornness, I added on another 50,000 worth of debt.

This isn’t a woe-is-me post. I’m just telling you like it is.

But, with the debt I incurred (and still deep in), I gained a wealth of knowledge, two masters, and connections that I would’ve never made otherwise. That large investment opened many doors. One day, I do hope to pay that off.

As a broke artist, I stress out a lot about money on the regular. This entire year (prior to the divorce), I’ve been hanging on by a thread. Paying my major bills like my car and insurance and rent. Sometimes food. But I live a life that most of you don’t care to ask or just don’t know about.

I don’t get paid for 90% of my work.

The photos you see are products of bartering or friends just loaning me their time.

The clothes I wear are sent by companies who don’t even pay for blog posts half the time.

I blog for free.

My social media is free.

I have an agent, but I’m still on government assistance.

Bill collectors call my phone daily.

I’m just getting by and actually had to ask for charity a few times. (And no, I don’t have mommy and daddy or grandparents to back me up).

I’m not the only one. There are many of us out there who are just trying to make it. Trying to stay afloat. Putting $20 here and there on a $1000 medical bill.

But, I’m so close to the finish line that I couldn’t possibly quit now. No matter how many companies ask for their money back, I have this unwavering hope that one day I’ll get paid for my shoots and paid for my work. That one day all the struggles and failures and energy will just work in my favor.

Photos by Madinah

xoxo,

Leah V

Visibility in Islam

I use this world a lot. Visibility. Then I always add ‘proper representation’ to that. Not only do I want to be visible but I want to be properly represented in the world I live in.

“Leah V. you’re always complaining,” a troll on Instagram said underneath a photo. “So, I’m unfollowing you.”

And, sweetheart, you’re not complaining enough, which is why we are in a fucked situation right now.

See, here’s the thing. I might not be on the front lines. I may not hold a huge sign over my head that denounces Number 45. I don’t speak at pep rallies or organize sit-ins, but that doesn’t take away my voice. And, it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m any less of an ally than my counterparts. We all want the same thing, but we travel along different routes to make that happen.

Many of you know how it feels to walk into your favorite store. In the window is a huge advertisement. There are several statuesque models with wavy hair and white skin wearing the store’s new skinny jean. As you go farther in, there are more advertisements of beautiful models who look nothing like you. You will never be tall. Never be thin. Or white.

Go into your local Barnes & Noble. Scan through the magazine section. Tell me how many white or ambiguous looking thin people are on the covers. Tell me how many dark-skin Latinas or Asians are on the covers. Muslims? Fat people? People with disabilities?

And, the newest craze is showcasing, and sometimes even exploiting, Muslim women. We Rise PopSugar just made a video showcasing modest Muslim women in fashion. In the 3-minute video, there was not ONE Black Muslim woman. Not ONE Latina Muslim. Not ONE Indian woman. All the women showcased were straight-sized European hijabis and white-looking Middle-Easterners.

We Rise PopSugar isn’t the only magazine, website, and media outlet to ‘white-wash’ Muslim women.

I live in Detroit. Not too far from Dearborn. 1/3 of the Muslim population in Michigan are African-American. But when media outlets come to the city, they miraculously only find ‘acceptable’ Muslims to interview and highlight. We are buried and hidden once again.

Just like in White AmeriKKKa.

We can’t find acceptance in our homeland, but now we can’t find it in Islam either?     

xoxo,

Leah V

Vulnerability Doesn’t Mean Weakness

I’m an extreme thinker, which comes mostly from my personality disorder. Or so I’ve been told by a mental health professional a few years back. No, I’m kidding. I really do have a personality disorder. Sounds a lot harsher than it really is. Kinda. LOL. Anyway, when an individual thinks in ‘extreme’ terms it usually means that they see the world in black and white. It’s either this or that. There is no middle ground, no in between or gray areas. Of course, that’s a skewed way of thinking, right? There is always an exception to the rule. Especially when we are dealing with the complexities of a human mind.

Vulnerability. The word scared the fuck out of me growing up. I’d witnessed acts of vulnerability in women and seen people get chewed up, mistreated, and tossed out like waste. Vulnerability equated weakness to me. And that learned behavior was a fact in my world. So, I stuck with it. And vowed to never be vulnerable. To never show more emotion than I should. To listen more than I spoke. To always have a one-up on anyone who wanted to fraternize with me.

Emotions. Eww. I’d cry in secret, burying my face deep down in the pillow to ensure that no one would discover my ‘soft’ core. Hugs used to make me feel weird. I’d stand there like a log until they stopped. A few of my family members nicknamed me ‘robot’. I thought it was pretty funny until I got into therapy and she started to unpeel the layers…

Publicly, I’d mask sadness and grief with anger and aggression. Always ending up in a verbal, and on a few occasions, physical outbursts. One time, one of my verbal altercations turned into a physical one. And I ended up in jail for the night. After I was released, I went to my therapist.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked with a straight face.

I hunched my shoulders. Still very much so mad that I’d embarrassed myself and gone to jail in the first place.

She asked again, this time more stern. And, I had a hunch that she’d keep asking until I gave her something.

“Because, I’m a villain and villains are always angry,” I said with a smile.

She chuckled. “How are you a villain?”

I sat up straight. “Villains don’t have emotions. Just like me.”

Her eyes shifted. “You must not be human because I’ve never met a human without emotion”

“Well, my family does call me a robot.”

“You do have emotions,” she concluded. “And you’re certainly not a villain.”

I rolled my eyes. “If I do have them they are completely under control.”

“Under control?”

I nodded.

“So much so that you just got arrested for domestic violence?”

My lips pressed together and she continued, “You’re always angry because your masking your emotions with aggression. It’s ok to be sad. It’s ok feel grief or fear. These are healthy emotions to experience.”

“Stuff like that is for soft people. People who don’t have a backbone. People who get trampled on. I won’t let anyone step all over me. Not happening.” I crossed my arms over my chest like a two-year-old.

“Who ever said that being less angry, vulnerable, and more open made you ‘soft’ or weak?” She explained, “There is a middle ground here. We’ve just got to find one for you.”

During this time, I was very hard-headed. I listened to her to an extent, which led me to keep bumping my head against the wall. Each time, I’d go back to her and explain my outbursts and she’d reiterate the same facts with patience, over and over again. It was ok to be vulnerable. It was ok to show emotions. Emotions didn’t mean that you were weak. She told me that I wasn’t weak. That I was the strongest person she’d ever met. I cried in front of her. She asked me how I felt about that. I told her that I hated crying in front of people and that it made me feel vulnerable. She said, good.

It took me some time to get over it. Well, not really get over it. But to sway my way of thinking about vulnerability as a fat, black, Muslim woman in the united states. How the act works with me or against me as an artist and as a budding business-lady.

In addition to the therapy, blogging and modeling has really helped me break out of the box I’d placed myself in. I find myself the most vulnerable when I’m adding content to my captions or writing an essay about how an event in my childhood unfolded or how experiencing an emotion made me feel. I feel much freer, lighter. More real. Much more like myself. A human being. And that’s pretty cool. I’m less aggressive, less angry. Don’t get me wrong being vulnerable with our emotions isn’t all lollipops and gravy, and you’ll get those jerks that will take advantage, but that doesn’t even add up to the benefits you’ll gain by being your true self. 

xoxo

Leah V. 

A Look Into How We View Mental Illness

It’s cold in Michigan. Dreary. Things are dying. Morale is at an all-time low for a lot of individuals during the fall/winter months. Lack of sunlight. Holiday woes. It’s super brisk and your usual cuddle buddy is being a fuckboy and not answering your texts. Yeah, I get it. It’s not the most wonderful time of the year so says the holiday songs on the radio. 

I’ve been in my ‘mood’ lately. When, I say ‘mood’ it’s code for mental lapses, anxiety, depression, or all three. Depends on the day or days. And I really hate when I get into these ‘moods’ because I know that I’m feeling these emotions or I’m being a certain way and for the most part, I have no idea why. It can strike at any moment. Even when life seems to be ok or running smoothly. Then I begin to feel ‘ungrateful’ because I’m feeling like shit when life dictates that it could be a lot worse.

Oh, isn’t life full of contradictions.

I understand that these ‘moods’ are either triggered by some kind of hormonal imbalance, or a word, a face, or even a song which jolts you back into some repressed traumatic moment which leads to these negative emotions.

But meanwhile, while people are telling you how ‘crazy’ you are for even showing any signs of distress in life, you are feeling like a trapped bat ramming its little bat face into a glass window.

If you were a better Muslim, you wouldn’t have those sorts of problems. Take it to the rug. Oh, you’ll be ok, just remind yourself of the people who have it way worse than you. Yes, when someone reaches out to you about not being right in the head or not feeling well mentally, please continue to pour icing over shit and not deal with the issues head on.

Do you know how many times I’ve reached out just to be called crazy or told to suck it up? Do you know how many times I’ve been made out to be a jerk because of misplaced emotions? Do you know how it feels to have the outside not match the inside, how confusing that is?

I’ve always had ‘issues’ growing up but was too afraid to tell anyone. When I got to college, the emotions started bubbling over. I was aggressive, sporadic, and in denial. I’d have these breakdowns, privately, and withdrew from other humans. I didn’t have drugs or alcohol to soothe my problems so my outlet became fighting.

I graduated college at twenty years old with a business degree. I got married two weeks after that. More mental issues came to play. Aggression on top of aggression. The police were even called on me a few times. I didn’t go to jail. Not yet anyway. I hit rock bottom. I had no one. No family support. My ex had left. And my friends wanted nothing to do with me or didn’t know how to assist. I was alone.

I remember lying on the beach, tears streaming down my face on the phone with my mother. “I’m going to admit myself to the hospital,” I said. “I can’t live like this anymore.”

She tried to console me. Tell me what I should do. She apologized for not catching my issues earlier. But it was a little too late. I was floating beneath the clouds. Watching my life unfold in a painful, slow motion.

I decided that before I admitted myself, that I deserved at least one more chance. I was going to seek out a therapist. I found one at this little Muslim family services place in Detroit. The female counselor was a hijabi. She was Somali. She was the hand that pulled me out of the darkness. That’s all I needed at the time. I went in twice a week. I cried. We talked. I wasn’t eating. She told me to eat colorful fruits and vegetables. She told me to make small goals for myself. She even gave me her personal number when I felt down. To this day, I see her around the mosque sometimes. I don’t think she understands how much I needed her. How much she helped me.

To talk about mental illness in Islam or to even admit it, I think are very hush-hush. Like a lot of issues in our communities. I see some strides being made to make it more accessible, less judgy, but we have some ways to go.

After five years of extensive therapy, and after hiding it for so long, I am very much so open about it. Why should I keep it quiet? Because I’m Muslim? Because I’m a black superhero? Because I’m a blogger that posts cute pics on Instagram and my life is so fuckin perfect?

When, I go through my ‘moods’, I sometimes share it on Facebook. Not to get pity or to get likes. I share it because of the Muslim girls and women who inbox me, secretly, telling me that they too have the same issues and can’t admit it in fear that their community ‘wouldn’t understand’ or they’d experience ‘backlash or jeers’. But even though they are not at the point where they can openly seek help or be honest about it, they have me. Someone they know who has and is going through the same outbursts. The same feeling of worthlessness. The same anxiety attacks.

Just like the Somali counselor reached her hand out and pulled me back into some light, by sharing my life, my triumphs, and downfalls, I want to do the same for others. I want to be that hand that reaches out. And I want others to do the same. If you see it, you have a duty to help. Listen. Provide a safe space for them to breathe. A hug. Giving non-judgmental advice. It’s the little things that count. Those little acts of kindness that could make someone’s day and be the difference between them stepping into the light or withdrawing into the darkness.

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!

I Used To Get Bullied For Dressing Different

I’ve had a few interviews for different feminist and style blogs recently, and the question that I’m most asked is what it was like for me growing up, before Leah V. was Leah V.  

I grew up in the 90’s and early 2000’s, where nothing on my body was considered beautiful or desired. To add to that, I was Muslim and Black. And very much so fat. Triple whammy? So confidence was at an all-time low for the most part.

In my family, my mother was a pretty snazzy dresser and so was my grandmother. Even though they were large women, they still pulled out their sequins blazers, costume jewelry, and furs. My grandmother was into makeup as well. Bright red lips and blue eyeshadow was a must for any special occasion.

That’s when I fell in love, playing in her expensive lippies and shadows. I secretly painted my face, knowing my mother wouldn’t approve, and would make me wipe it off immediately.   

Makeup wasn’t in like that for young girls when I was growing up. No overly-contoured Kim K. looks.      The most we did was a heavy coating of cheap lip gloss from the beauty supply store and some mascara. Anything else was considered ‘clown face’.

I was a weird, thoughtful, and creative child. I watched a lot of movies, read a lot of books, and immersed myself into rock/pop music. Through these outlets, I began to internalize all the characters that I admired. They were sassy. They were strong. They didn’t take no shit! They were modern and stylish and outrageous. They were different just like me. And I imagined being anything I wanted.

And then it clicked… I was going to wear glitter on my eyelids, smear black lipstick on my lips, and place tiaras on top of my hijab.

Why? Because I was expressing myself and it made me happy.

Others didn’t feel the same way.

“Take that dark lipstick off your face,” Mom told me.

“Why black polish? Why not red?” Another asked.

“Why wear makeup, you already have such pretty skin,” someone commented.

“You look like a clown,” a family member said.

*Hella sighs*

I was obsessed with the Spice Girls, so I bought several pairs of those chunky flip flops. I was into Gwen Stefani from No Doubt and started wearing black nail polish and fingerless lace gloves. Then I went through the goth phase. Everything was pitch black.

I got made fun of for dressing crazy, wearing makeup, being outspoken, being fat, having big feet, pointy teeth, wearing colorful hijabs, covering my body… Blah, blah.    

The funny thing about it, I never allowed other people’s criticisms to stop me from dressing the way I wanted or affected how I carried myself. Because it was my body and I loved the expression that makeup and clothes could prompt. I wasn’t the same as the other girls, and that was fine with me.

It’s ironic, because now, I’m the trendsetter and style blogger. People ask my fat, Black Muslim self where do I get my clothes from. They ask me for fashion advice.

Although, it’s a sad thought to think what would’ve happened if I listened to those friends who made fun of my appearance and ensembles.

I wouldn’t be Leah V. I’d be some cardboard cutout. Exactly the same as the rest. Just falling in that straight and narrow line of lameness…

Beyonce said it best: “Tell him boy, bye!”  

Keep being your crazy, odd dressing, thin or plump self. Don’t let others dictate how you should or shouldn’t dress. Or that you need or don’t need makeup. Tell them it’s YOUR BODY and you can do with it as you please!

xoxo

Leah V.   

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.

I Posted a Picture in Front of the #BlackLivesMatter Wall and the Internet Went Crazy

I used to be the kind of style blogger who didn’t speak on issues out of fear of the repercussions of what ‘others’ might say. I was a ‘style’ blogger; no one wanted to hear what I had to say when it came to politics or religion. I should’ve been talking about the newest matte lippie or what I was wearing that weekend.

With age and wisdom, and basically not giving a fuck, I came to the conclusion that I had become like all the other bloggers. I was a fashionable shell. I had thoughts and worries about the world we lived in, but I never spoke on it. I kept quiet even though the issues myself and my people faced were reality.

In January, I took my social media and blog up a few notches. I rebranded myself as an anything-goes-blogger. Whatever came to my mind about feminism or self-image or blatant racism, I was going to speak about it while adding bomb ass photos to the mix.

Unapologetically.

In Detroit, there’s this amazing Black Lives Matter wall near Midtown that popped up last year after the string of police killings of unarmed Black males. Black Lives Matter is written hundreds of times in white letters and in different sizes.

While standing in front of this powerful wall of words, I found it to be the perfect moment to throw my fist in the air in support of #BlackLivesMatter. It was the fist that many of us stick up when we are trying to make a statement.

When we are trying to push for equality. When we are telling the world that Black Lives Do In Fact Matter!

Society +

I went home and looked over the pictures that Danni took and the one with my fist planted in the air was the perfect photo to post on Instagram and Facebook. I added a caption as well about us as a whole making so many strides towards equality but taking so many steps back simultaneously with the whole racial divide happening all over the world.

I posted it and for the most part a lot of different races were feeling the picture and throwing their fist emojis up. I had a few haters that I had to delete the comments of and block since they wanted to troll my page.

The next day, a popular body positive page reposted the picture with the original caption. It got a lot of hits. Lots of supportive people said that we needed to do better as a country and they were in full support of the message. Then one troll replied: “Blue Lives Matter…”

After that all the internet trolls flooded in with comments like what about Black on Black crime? And someone even said, “White Lives Matter!”

Then people started arguing under the photo. How does one photo of an African-American Muslim blogger standing behind a Black Lives Matter wall start all this ruckus?

Wardrobe: Society +

Why are people so turned off my support of #BlackLivesMatter? How many times do people have to say that this movement has nothing to do with Black supremacy?

Listen…in case you didn’t get the memo, it has nothing to do with us being better than anyone or being wronged more than another race. We are dealing with the issues at hand. Period. And if someone standing up for themselves or for humanity bothers you, then you need to check yourself, and not some hashtag or movement!

EVERYONE deserves freedom of speech. Freedom to walk the streets without being harassed by a cop. EVERYONE deserves to live life that isn’t in constant danger. EVERYONE deserves to be free.

I am Black. I am a woman. I am a Muslim. I am a triple minority. So I get it. Trust me. I have been picked over and belittled and mistreated because one or all three of the above. A lot of us have.

What I want for you, the reader, to get from this piece is that every movement isn’t a personal attack on your culture or religion. It isn’t an attack on cops or White people. It is a movement like all others to boost awareness, to help make a change in an unequal system, and to hopefully one day live in harmony amongst one another.

*Originally posted on Muslimgirl.com*

Naturally Flyy Detroit

This is my 2nd year being asked by Naturally Flyy Detroit to run not one—but two ‘Headwrap’ workshops at their annual Naturally Flyy Detroit Presents: A Natural Hair Experience.

All photos taken by Madinah M.

I’ve always seen Etta and Jenn (the founders of Naturally Flyy Detroit) around the city at different cool events and their aura, their energy is none less than can be described as pure radiance. They’re the kind of Black, Amazonian queens that you just have to meet in person to bask in their sisterly glory.

So when they asked me to participate, I said ‘yes’ on the spot.

I get asked to endorse a lot of the things. But I think in these days and times, it’s important to ‘believe’ in what you’re endorsing. And as you gals (and guys) know, I have to believe in what I endorse. It’s gotta have that ‘umph’ factor that I’m looking for when collaborating with anyone, really.

Why I rock with the Naturally Flyy Movement? Well, it’s a dope and unapologetic movement for not just Black women, but ALL women to be just as Flyy as they want to be, in whatever shape or form.

In the age of everything is cut, snipped, and lightened, we ARE hungry for change and enlightenment.

And they bring it. 

There’s this old-school notion that sistahs can’t get together to support one another. And at one point, I believed it. It was always that one (or in my case, many) Black females who didn’t ‘like’ me or thought I was ‘doing too much’ because I’m confident in who I am and could care less about the thoughts of others.

They believed I should’ve conformed to the normalcy which is society.

#TellHimBoyBye

When my friend and I were invited to the 1st Naturally Flyy event, all that changed. As I walked through the very crowded corridors of Java City with my huge colorful turban on, I got smiling faces and bright eyes.

They screamed, ‘Yaaaaassss, queen,” “Lookin good, girl,” and “Tell me how you wrapped that turban!”

And They embraced me with hugs and kisses. Love.

Posing with Naturalista/Blogger: Naturally Act

That is #BlackGirlMagic people.

Uplifting. Encouraging. Smiling at another beautiful queen. 

Smiles are infectious...

Naturally Flyy just isn’t a natural hair movement. Oh, it is SO much more. It’s an open forum, it’s a community, and it’s love.

They embody empowerment, female entrepreneurship, and sisterhood. 

Keep on rockin’ Etta and Jenn.

The world needs more people like yall in it.

Let's talk about these accessories for a moment. The bracelets and earrings are courtesy of Trois Soeurs : Three Sisters a socially conscious brand working with artisans in West Africa & funding tutors for kids in need. www.troissoeurs.org/shop-1/natural-coconut-earrings

Check them out! They have some dope pieces for modest prices and I will be doing a giveaway with them soon.

Follow me on the Gram! @Lvernon2000

Wardrobe Breakdown:

Turban: Flossy's Suitcase

Shades: Alley & Eye

Jumpsuit and Vest: Target

Shirt: Forever 21

Sandals: Payless

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

The Perfect Blogger: Tips on Breaking into the Blogging World

What People Think About Bloggers:

1.       They get hella’ paid from companies and businesses (Make it rain!)

2.       They wake up every morning feeling and looking flawless

3.       They dress fashionable ALL the time

4.       Very little to no hardship in life

5.       Skin always perf! 

What Actually Happens:

1.       No money

2.       Usually, no money

3.       Always wanting to quit blogging, just because life

4.       Chin breakouts on the regular

5.       Sweats are our friends!

Of course, every blogger’s life is different and payment varies, but for the most part, the bloggers I know are fighting the same battles. Blogging isn’t all frills and happiness. Sure, it has its perks because a lot of people wouldn’t even bother to do it if it didn’t. But I’m here to tell you the nitty gritty about blogging if you’re thinking of starting one or if you just want a better appreciation for the bloggers you know and love.

1.       Our Voices

A lot of us started our blogs because we had something to say. There was a void in the fashion industry that we felt like we needed to fill. A few bloggers I know started because there wasn’t a lot of accurate ‘plus-size’ representation in the media. Bloggers and body positive influencers are changing that. They researched, they contacted companies, they called out ‘fat-shamers’, and modeled dope outfits simultaneously. They spoke out without fear against the ‘MAN’ that was fueling self-hate and unrealistic body types.

The reason, I started my blog was for the exact same reason. I didn’t see any Black, plus-size, Muslim chicks in the fashion game. So I made it my point to fill that gap. I wanted to make a difference. Show them whose boss! And break those stereotypes plaguing African-Americans and Muslims in the world today. 

On the other hand, some people become bloggers for the perks: the free tickets to fashion shows, the recognition, and of course, the money (if they’re lucky), and the big one is fame. They just want to be ‘in’ and ‘popular’.

If you want to become a blogger for those reasons solely, then don’t. Because you’re not genuine and you definitely won’t last very long in the field. People will see right through that transparent face you’ve put on.         

2.       Building Platforms

Most style bloggers, work full-time and blog. If you are able to blog every waking moment of your life and still have an income, then more power to you! But if you’re like most people, you’ll have to have an income to fund your blog. Blogging doesn’t come free, which most people just don’t get. Cameras, lenses, outfits, accessories, shoots, gas, websites, marketing, and time all cost money. Your money.

So right off the bat, companies aren’t going to just start sending you cash and clothes for you to post because they can totally see the value in your services over everyone else. You’ve got to understand that there are hundreds of thousands of bloggers out there in the blogger-sphere. Your job is to show them your worth by differentiating yourself from the slew of others, staying true to your readers—your platform, and producing quality content.     

3.       Prejudices in the Industry

Time to get to the dirty part. The part no one wants to talk about. The fashion and blogging industry can be, at times, extremely frustrating. There was a time that I wanted to quit because I felt like there was no taming the monster. Cliques form, other bloggers get very nasty and competitive, and companies can and will use you for your time and resources and dismiss you like a bag of rotted turnips. I have many, many horror stories.

Also, there is prejudice and racism that occurs. There will be events and shoots that will strictly have white bloggers present. There will be other times when the ‘lighter’ skinned bloggers will be chosen over the ‘darker’ skinned ones. Same with size and age. If your too old or too big then you will get overlooked and dismissed. 

With that said, it is your duty to rise above all the cattiness and bullshit that comes with any and all fields of work and creativity. You just keep doing you and do it unapologetically. What keeps me from quitting? Other bloggers that are supportive, who understand the struggle, and lets me know that it’s going to work out if I stay persistent and true. My fans and readers who constantly uplift me and send me nice and encouraging messages. That’s who I do this for, not the duds in the industry dictating what’s new and trendy and pretty.     

4.       Blogging with a Purpose

So many people inquire about blogging and how I’ve built and maintained my little platform. And I tell them everything I said above, but the one thing that I really want them to get is the purpose and the goal. Why do you want to do this? What do you want your viewers to get from this? And what’s the goals (big or little) to reach them?

If you’re doing this because you want to take pretty pictures and post them to get likes on Instagram, then do whatever floats your boat. If you want to make a difference in someone’s life, help someone who hates their looks and is unhappy all the time because of it, then go for it. Whatever angle you want to take just make sure it’s with a goal and purpose in mind.

Words are powerful. I think a lot of us spend too much time on social media that we’ve become invisible to one another. People still actually read and the words that we allow out of our mouths and through our fingers will float on in reality forever. So do yourself a favor and really think before you put something out there. Think about where you want it to go and what affect you want it to have on people.

5.       Persistence is Key

Sounds like an after-school special, I know. In anything you do, you must be persistent and confident in your abilities. You have to be that person that goes above and beyond. You can’t be a slacker then expect something to just magically happen. If you think that, then please stop. Because that, my friend, is pure insanity. Have realistic goals of yourself and realistic expectations of who you’re working with as well. Because your blog is your brand. And if you allow your brand to have a bunch of typos, collaborate with shotty people, and post once in a while then you’re off to a very bad start.

I’m not saying this to detour you. I’m saying this so that you can start your blog with good intentions, great work ethic, and a message that WE, the reader, can really relate to. I want you to feel confident about starting your blog, Youtube, and social media pages. Trust me, it’s all a learning process, but I know you can do it. 

So, happy blogging!      

Curvy OOTD: Spring Is Officially In Session

In Michigan, it can be spring one day and winter the next...But I think it's safe to say that SPRING is finally here. So, since I've endured like 20 months of winter (haha!), I figured that I'd pull out all of my yellow. And do a happy spring post, in hopes that the cold doesn't come back for at least four months.

So since, I'm traveling, editing my novel, and working on a few creative projects, I just thought I'd pop in with an OOTD post letting yall know that I'm still alive!

Enjoy.

Wardrobe Breakdown:

Hijab (Scarf): Caniff Gift and Variety in Hamtramck, MI

Shirt + Shades + Necklace: Forever 21

Blazer + Flats: Torrid

Jeans: Burlington

Purse: TJ Maxx

Lippie: Colourpop Cosmetics (Online)

My buddy Madinah M. took all of my photos in the cold! Go follow her on the IG @theeebeautyqueen

And follow me on Snapchat @LeahVDaily

I'm also on IG @Lvernon2000

Daily Inspiration: What's Yours?

Inspiration: The process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.

Synonyms: creativity · inventiveness · innovation       

I don’t use a lot of mainstream media for inspiration because, at times, it’s frankly chocked full of lies and deceit. And we see the same things, over and over again. People using trends and taking them to the extreme where no individuality or originality is even shown. These characteristics still exist. You’ve just got to find something that excites you, then place your own spin on it.

Makeup Courtesy of Madinah M. (@Theeebeautyqueen)

Exploring Pinterest, I stumbled upon a few of Tyra Banks’ photos. I adored Tyra when she was on “Fresh Prince” with Will Smith and even more so when she started America’s Next Top Model. I learned soooo much from watching that show as a teen. Not only is she beautiful but she’s also a businesswoman. I like those ‘not just a pretty face’ types. The ones who have strong wing lines but also has a degree in philosophy.

But back to inspiration. I get inspired by many things: cool people, good books, bad ones, fat girl blogs, and movies. Photos and visits to the museum, pondering old art, and just plain silence. Sometimes, I inspire myself by looking back on all the dumb shit I’ve done and all the situations I’ve handled like a normal person which resulted in not going off on someone who probably deserved it.

I think it is very important to be inspired as well as strive to inspire others. People need that. Genuine inspiration. Because that leads to hope. And with hope, you can do anything and go anywhere and be ok. There was a time where I was hopeless, inspiration-less. It was the worst time in my life. To be in a deep, dark hole. Just stuck. You can’t see anything but that dirt wall. The sun is out there somewhere, but you don’t even know it’s there. That was me. Before I hit the deep end, I sought out help. Which was the best decision I ever made. She made me see again, and feel. I was inspired by the small things like the sun, and friends, and a good TV show.  

Now that I know how important it is to be inspired, I try to maintain that level of mental stimulation at all times. It keeps me sane. It keeps me happy. It keeps the darkness from seeping inward.

Fun Fact: I'm wearing raggedy socks underneath. HAHA.

It’s Friday. Go out and do something tiny. Smile at a stranger even though they may not smile back. Paint your toenails. Grab a scoop of ice cream. Or just sit in your car at the park with the windows down and let the fresh air flow through.

Wanna know what I'm wearing for the Tyra Bank's inspired shoot?

Faux Fur Stole: Forever 21 (Cancun)

Dress: Forever 21 Plus

Gloves: Claire's

Clutch: Target

Jewels: Hubby :)