Simplifying Aphrodite's Magic

KaiKai
kaikai@ngex.com

December 1, 2000

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Beads - something seemingly simple and ordinary yet having intricate value and significance in African history and culture. Although most of its significance is recounted post Arab and Portuguese trade especially in Western Africa, there is evidence that bead working existed before these recent (16th to 19th Century) traders.

It is possible that Egyptian merchants shipped their glass beads, along with other merchandise, for trade in North, West and Central Africa as far back as 20 to 30 centuries during the rule of the pharaohs.

With the passage of time beads have taken on different meanings depending on the social context where they are owned and used.

Beads have been used in Africa for artistic expression, social classification, ceremonial clothing, royal adornments, feminine expression, religion and currency. They've also seen some less glamorous uses such as with wrist and waist bands for measuring a child's growth, waist bands for holding up baby napkins, and waist bands for women to hold up their rags during menstruation.

About seven years ago some college friends and I decided to revisit the issue of beads as a symbol of sexuality. I believe the discussion started as we sat around admiring the naked, full-figured woman's body sculpted by an artist in our midst. We all put in our orders for waist beads to her. Our obsession had shifted from Victoria's Secret lingerie to African traditional practices to tantalize the opposite sex.

We shared tales from our homelands - Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Kenya, and of course the melanged USA. It was time to take action. In defiance against Western ideals of beauty, we would heap those dinner plates and fill out those bony hips, the gap-toothed would smile with confidence, and the nappy haired would find solace in the wonderful world of hair-braiding. If we had lost our sanity for one second we might have added that the brassieres be burned so we could release our breasts from bondage.

A few months later my string of beads broke and that was the end of that. I swept up all but one bead (which I still have) and dumped them into a trashcan.

Fast-forward two years after that. I graduated from College, moved to New York and became very conscious of my short stature. See, in College most of my friends were short - at 5ft 3ins I towered over a few of them so I didn't feel too conscious about my height. Now a work-a-day girl in New York, I could afford to buy trendy, good quality, high-heeled shoes and so that became my obsession. Every pair of shoes I owned had at least a three to four inch heel. My balance was great - I navigated the streets of New York with as much speed and grace as I would with a pair of flat, granny shoes.

My toes were long, sexy and cooperative and in the summertime they were my pride and joy, to be displayed in the most elegantly crafted, high-heeled, open-toed shoes. In the winter the same toes would be contorted into similarly high-heeled, closed-toed shoes or boots.

A male friend once said to me "so you are one of those women who wear high-heels and do that thing you do with your waist to drive us men crazy." I responded with an innocent "what do you mean?" To which he jovially dismissed me saying "oh please, like you don't know what I'm talking about" as if accusing me of being a part of a larger conspiracy against men. I knew exactly what he was talking about and it was good to hear a man validate the idea that a woman sashaying in high-heels has an alluring effect on men.

For five years I had all the power and confidence with my high-heeled shoes and then one fine morning it happened. I was arrested, called to order - my toes had taken their last assault and refused to be tortured another day of their lives. At the settlement hearing they said the most they could bear was two-inch heels. Basically, I was sentenced to flat, granny shoes and threatened with more serious action if I did not adhere to the terms of the settlement.

About the same time, I began to notice that my clothes were getting tight. Waistbands started to pinch my sides and my movement became restricted in some clothes. I had put on a few extra pounds. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, beauty and sexual rapture, was working against me. Or maybe it was simply age and the fact that I haven't seen the insides of a gym in over six years catching up with me.

Don't get me wrong, I have a healthy consciousness of my body and I like myself a little round. But I own a lot of clothes in my current size that I really like and frankly I don't have the money to replace my entire wardrobe if I outgrow this size.

So I joined a 10-week weight loss program. But before I could see any physical results, my mind needed a little boost. Here's where beads make a comeback.

At the prodding of a friend (with his own ulterior motives) I decided to make myself a set of waist beads. My thinking then was that having beads around my waist would help me recover my "mojo."

I went shopping for beads and picked two colors, blue and white. Colors that for me symbolize life. I sat down in front of my television one evening and my mission was to string the beads. Unfortunately, it turned out to be more difficult than I expected. I only had enough patience to make two sets but that would do for starters.

Seven weeks into the weight-loss program, seven pounds lighter, and two sets of stringed beads resting lightly around my waist and I have it. My "mojo" is back! Even without my high-heels, my waist is moving in that way that drives men crazy. I am walking with power and confidence.

Aphrodite received from her husband, Hephaestus, a girdle made of gold and magic and when she wore it she became even more irresistible than she already was. My girdle is made of glass beads from Broadway, New York and magic from my mind but the effect is the same. I feel good and it shows!

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