I couldn't hide from it anymore. My hair -- this pile of protein that I kept wrapped in synthetic, smothered beneath Remy, hidden under a lacefront -- should not be my enemy. Each coil is as apart of me as my hands and feet. So why the avoidance? Hair is a symbol of beauty. Many of us have been taught that hair is our crowning glory. On the flip side, the difficulties in taming our hair has caused it to be a symbol of shame and evidence of pain for some of us. As a child, I was teased terribly about my "nappy" hair. It was a relief to finally put a Jheri Curl or relaxer in my hair and pretend that I had "good" hair.
After thirty years of chemical dependence and more hairstyles that I can count, it is time to stop pretending I'm Sasha Fierce. I'm not her and I don't want to be. I want to be the best me I can be. It's been nine months since my last relaxer. Am I saying I'll never put a weave, wig, or relaxer in my hair ever again? Nope. I'm saying that in this moment, I want to see, touch, feel, and nurture my own hair.
Okay, cool. But now what? I've studied the YouTube videos and have decided on my first style. The two-strand twists look easy enough despite the fact that none of the women in the videos seem to have my exact fine, thin, kinky 4C grade of hair. Nevertheless, I've fed my brain with the fruit of knowledge that can only come from watching a million videos. I can do this...
After thirty years of chemical dependence and more hairstyles that I can count, it is time to stop pretending I'm Sasha Fierce. I'm not her and I don't want to be. I want to be the best me I can be. It's been nine months since my last relaxer. Am I saying I'll never put a weave, wig, or relaxer in my hair ever again? Nope. I'm saying that in this moment, I want to see, touch, feel, and nurture my own hair.
Okay, cool. But now what? I've studied the YouTube videos and have decided on my first style. The two-strand twists look easy enough despite the fact that none of the women in the videos seem to have my exact fine, thin, kinky 4C grade of hair. Nevertheless, I've fed my brain with the fruit of knowledge that can only come from watching a million videos. I can do this...
Okay, so I couldn't do it. My hair came out looking like a stringy matted mess.
The morning I was set to unravel my twists was a workday. I woke up an hour early without an alarm. It was like Christmas Eve. Would Santa bring me exactly what I was hoping for? Perfectly coiled twists? Um, no. Not on this go round. But I am not discouraged in the least.
I went to work with my natural hair (actually only about an inch or two is natural, the rest is transitioning) pinned up in the front and a small ponytail in the back. To my surprise, no one did a double take. No one stared at my hair as though wondering what had happened to it. Not a stranger, not a co-worker, not anyone. It was as though no one noticed my hair because I looked to them like the person I'd been trying to look like for the past three decades: me.
Only better.
The morning I was set to unravel my twists was a workday. I woke up an hour early without an alarm. It was like Christmas Eve. Would Santa bring me exactly what I was hoping for? Perfectly coiled twists? Um, no. Not on this go round. But I am not discouraged in the least.
I went to work with my natural hair (actually only about an inch or two is natural, the rest is transitioning) pinned up in the front and a small ponytail in the back. To my surprise, no one did a double take. No one stared at my hair as though wondering what had happened to it. Not a stranger, not a co-worker, not anyone. It was as though no one noticed my hair because I looked to them like the person I'd been trying to look like for the past three decades: me.
Only better.
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