allthatjazz 𐙚˙✧˖♡

            The Disposable Black Girlfriend trope is a damaging narrative often seen in media. These characters experience a handful of microaggressions and are used as a stepping stone in the narrative. Let's dive into not only the history behind the trope, but how it's affected black women's perception of dating and interracial relationships.             Firstly, What is the Disposable Black Gf Trope? To put it in simple terms, I’ll give an example. Let's say the main character of a romance movie, whom we’ll call Jackson, meets a black female love interest, Alex. They fall in love, but the relationship goes through ups and downs before Jackson's main love interest, Rebecca, comes into the story. A white actress, or at least white-passing, almost always plays Rebecca. Instead of having Alex be replaced by another African-American woman, she’s replaced by someone with polar opposite features.     ...

  An Overachiever's Guide To Slowing Down Taking the time to rest and reset can be hard, especially if you’re a productive person. Trust me, I know this better than anyone. As I go through my day, I often find myself obsessing over incomplete tasks and meticulously planning the order in which I have to finish them. Even though being a perfectionist is a good trait, the characteristics that come with this can be infuriating: obsession, overanalyzing, and anxiety. So here are a few simple habits that you can incorporate throughout your day to help give your racing mind a break! Meditation : Meditating is a great way to relax your nervous system and help calm all those crazy, intrusive thoughts.  The best part, there are tons of different forms. For beginners, I’d recommend starting with a guided meditation. These can be anywhere from five to thirty minutes, depending on what techniques are being used. My personal favorite is Chakra Meditations – as they help to ground you and ca...

  Daddy Issues, The Scar It Leaves My sixteenth birthday was four months away when I met him for the first time. I was fifteen, a sophomore. Fifteen years my father was absent. Fifteen years I had waited for his explanation, waited to be seen, just for him to have moved on without me. I was apprehensive at first, weary of his intentions. Why’d he suddenly decide to come back? To reconcile?            But after a few promises and compliments, I caved in without question. He swore he’d help with my college tuition, pay for my upcoming birthday party, and even talked about attending my graduation. It took twenty-four hours for me to start calling him dad. A week to forget about the past. And it took barely a month for it all to come undone. What started innocently: daily texts, FaceTime calls, and checkups throughout the day – soon turned into messages left on read and missed phone calls.            Three months, th...

      It's hard finding yourself surrounded by seas of copy-and-paste teenagers. As a senior in Highschool, one thing I’ve learned after four years is how to navigate your way around the intimidators and social pressure. I’ve always been the ambiverted type: not taking risks, keeping with the same social circle and using my intuition to find my way out of difficult situations. But at seventeen years old – the last thing I need is to not take risks. Following the crowd has always been my default option, it’s time to unlearn that.  Going into freshman year, peer pressure was at an all time high. It didn’t matter how many times I had been the scrawny kid in school getting picked on, I slowly became that person I hated and worse. I thought that’s what made me “cool”. I thought that was the only way to make friends and get invited to the biggest parties. By the end of ninth grade, I knew I was living a lie, and I didn’t want to be that person anymore. So that summer befo...

  Jazz, Like The Music My mother did not choose my name, she never thought of a girl’s name because a girl wasn’t what she wished for. My mothers first child, my half-brother, gave me the title, Jazmine. I find irony in my birth name, someone who is so vindictive and cruel chose a blossoming, spring name for me. In its original language, Spanish, it means flower or youthful. A fitting name for a baby born in the budding-spring season. But as I’ve grown, It’s no longer a fitting name for me.  Now , I go by Jazz, I feel that’s my true name. It makes me think of a saxophone, flashy and booming. At home nobody calls me it, but in the world, that’s the real me. At school it’s easy for people to remember and differentiates me from others. There's dozens of Jazmines on campus, but only one Jazz. In English class sophomore year, I introduced myself to my shoulder partner. I told her my name was Jazz, her face lit up. She said “Wow, like the music?”. It was the first time I introduced ...