Its embarrassing now to admit that at the ripe age
of 28, I am perhaps for the first time in recent memory, just becoming
acquainted with my natural hair.
From birth to age 11, it was my mother’s problem. Her duty was to wash, condition, and
maybe hot comb my hair, if her arms and belabored hands were up for it and her
waning child could endure a little longer. See during those years, I was a tender headed child, a title
that exhausted my mother before we even started cause she knew the hours ahead
would be filled with complaining, fidgeting and pleas to my father to stop her
madness. Yet, like all mothers
whose desire to send their children out into the world a decent rep of the
family, she soldiered on. Suffice
to say these memories were the nightmares that induced me to dream a different
dream. A dream free of hot combs
and tangles, free of kinks and curls that just plain refused to behave, a dream…dare
I say…of straight hair!
Finally
and with further assault on my mother’s frustrations, I demanded to get a
relaxer. She maintained I was too
young, yet by age 11 she was worn down by my fervent begging and voila it was
mine. Now, I don’t truly remember
how I felt about it at the time, but I do know that by age 13 it was a full on
addiction. Whenever I felt new
growth coming in, I cringed. A
strange logic took me over, and I felt that the relaxer was supposed to effect
the in coming roots, getting rid of my problem completely. Most obviously this was not the case
and I learned to scorn my natural hair, seeing it as a problem that would
hopefully, with enough good science and technology, could be overcome. See I wanted my hair to be free flowing
and effortless, like that of one of my favorite Disney princesses Ariel of The
Little Mermaid, who’s long locks defied gravity with its abundance of
volume that even water couldn’t thwart.
And though I had no real life examples, I made a connection between her
envied locks and those of my friends who had multi-ethnic genetics to thank for
a carefree day in the pool or at the beach. So if I couldn’t have the mane of a mermaid princess then I
would strive for the Sebastian Wet style of my long curly haired friends.
Attempts were made but the
outcomes never ranked as successes, only varying in how presentable they were
for going out in public. With the
help of products like Hindu Sheen (much love) I began to develop a technique,
of course along with the ritual trip to the salon every two weeks, for creating
the best natural curl I would accept.
The idea of going back to my natural hair didn’t really gain momentum
until my mid 20s, when I noticed that just about everyone I knew was wearing a
weave. This wasn’t a reactionary
response more of a reevaluation of what having straight hair meant to me. Now understand it took another three
years for me to actually dive back into my roots, so to speak. My last touch-up was a year and a half
ago the same time I chopped all my hair off in the name of a new style and an
awesome bob. It was all wash, blow
dry and flat ironing from there out, and with the blessing of a great stylist,
getting touch-ups fell from memory; and after realizing several significant
months had passed without a touch-up, I became committed to continuing.
And so with all this
backstory (thanks for hanging in there) this is where I am currently. Less than a month on the natural road and
excited to where the journey leads and a deep appreciation to the ladies of
Youtube for their multitude of in depth Natural Hair tutorials that have taught
me to accept my hair as it is and re-access my own ideas of beauty and self-acceptance.
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