WHAT HAVE I DONE?!? My once "gorgeous" straight hair is now coiled close to my scalp and pointing in every direction possible! What. Have. I. Done?
As long as I have been able to comprehend full sentences I've heard commercials telling viewers "Love the skin you're in" and "Be yourself", maybe the advice wasn't meant for my ears. Perhaps it was for the women who would love their skin and themselves once they bought the advertised makeup and clothing. Or maybe it was just for the girls and women whose hair would lie down smoothly and fall down their shoulders and backs, more like the classic Barbies than the early 2000s Bratz my mom bought me.
Whatever the case, it took years for me to embrace my poofy, stubborn hair. There are still days I wish my hair was wavy or resembled the ringlets many of my biracial friends are crowned with. On humid days I am prone to trying to "stretch" my hair by pulling it down and flooding my roots with eight hair products that claim they "defy shrinkage". (Shrinkage is when coils of hair become tighter thus making hair look shorter).
Some of the kids at work ask why I wear my hair "curly and crazy" rather than "straight and pretty". When did a negative connotation attach itself to the strands of my hair?
When did elementary aged African American girls with beautiful kinky hair and soft chocolate skin begin doing research on how to lighten their skin and thin and straighten their hair while their friends played outside on the playground?
Why do I receive more reproach from Blacks than I do from any other group of people. Just because my hair is only combed once every three days does not mean that my hair is nappy or unkempt. Please, you try combing my hair when it's dry and curly...No, please don't...It won't do anything but make my hair more poofy—yes it's possible.
As India Arie says: I am not my hair. Just because my hair may look unmanageable and "wild" does not mean that I am. However, there are some similarities between myself and my hair.
But my hair is so BIG! It doesn't match society's definition of beautiful. What have I done?
I have learned to embrace my natural self, the person God created me to be.
Psalm 139:14
As long as I have been able to comprehend full sentences I've heard commercials telling viewers "Love the skin you're in" and "Be yourself", maybe the advice wasn't meant for my ears. Perhaps it was for the women who would love their skin and themselves once they bought the advertised makeup and clothing. Or maybe it was just for the girls and women whose hair would lie down smoothly and fall down their shoulders and backs, more like the classic Barbies than the early 2000s Bratz my mom bought me.
Whatever the case, it took years for me to embrace my poofy, stubborn hair. There are still days I wish my hair was wavy or resembled the ringlets many of my biracial friends are crowned with. On humid days I am prone to trying to "stretch" my hair by pulling it down and flooding my roots with eight hair products that claim they "defy shrinkage". (Shrinkage is when coils of hair become tighter thus making hair look shorter).
Some of the kids at work ask why I wear my hair "curly and crazy" rather than "straight and pretty". When did a negative connotation attach itself to the strands of my hair?
When did elementary aged African American girls with beautiful kinky hair and soft chocolate skin begin doing research on how to lighten their skin and thin and straighten their hair while their friends played outside on the playground?
Why do I receive more reproach from Blacks than I do from any other group of people. Just because my hair is only combed once every three days does not mean that my hair is nappy or unkempt. Please, you try combing my hair when it's dry and curly...No, please don't...It won't do anything but make my hair more poofy—yes it's possible.
As India Arie says: I am not my hair. Just because my hair may look unmanageable and "wild" does not mean that I am. However, there are some similarities between myself and my hair.
- A mind of its own: I never know what my hair is going to do until I wake up in the morning. There is no fighting with it, it will look however it pleases on any given day. I too often surprise people—including myself—making my up mind as I go and daring to venture from the "norm."
- It reaches upward: Days when I'm most frustrated with my hair it continues to reach toward the heavens just as I aim to do on the good and bad days.
- It's responsive: Even when I wish it wouldn't, my hair reacts to any change in weather and room temperature. No I don't shrink or expand when there's extra moisture in the air; I do quickly react to changes in the environment around me—adapting for survival.
But my hair is so BIG! It doesn't match society's definition of beautiful. What have I done?
I have learned to embrace my natural self, the person God created me to be.
Psalm 139:14