I've been struggling with writing this post for the past few months. The reason being, I wasn't 100% confident about my decision.
The decision that I'm talking about is going natural.
Unless you are a "Say it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" soul sista like myself, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about.
My HAIR kids, I'm talking about my hair!
For any woman her hair is, as they say it biblically, her "crowing glory." For most black women, our hair is the end all be all of our identity. There are so many versatile styles that we can rock with our hair, and so many statements that we can make while rocking them. As many of my fellow black women know, there are a few statements that you do not want made about you when it comes to your hair. They all may include the words picky, nappy or peasy.
There is the obvious logic that the way you wear your hair does not define who you are as a person, but one's appearance can drastically affect certain aspects of their life (career, hobbies, friends, romance) just to name some things off the top of my head.
As I embark on my 25th year of life and my 2nd full year of living in California, I have had the opportunity to explore who I am as a young woman. Like most people, my idea of beauty was mostly shaped by my mother. A former beautician and glam queen, my mom always took pride in her appearance and the appearance of her kid.
It was normal for us to be up into the wee hour of the morning while she painstakingly washed, pressed and cornrowed my thick unruly hair. I would cry out in agony "owww, don't be so aggressive," and her response would always be the same, "beauty has no pain." Sorry mom, but you lied. Beauty hurts like hell. From the relaxer and straightening comb burns to the headaches of the too tight box braids and corn rows that go under the sew-in weaves, beauty freaking hurts.
I always thought of it as a necessary evil. This relaxer is supposed to burn, I have to sit with it in my hair for a few mins before I wash it out because how else will my edges lay flat? These braid are supposed to be this tight, how else will my braids/weave last?
I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with getting a relaxer, braids or weaves, but I came to the point where I asked myself, "Why am I doing this again?"
There is a perception of the black community that a lot of our beauty practices are done to mimic white people, while some things like skin bleaching and wearing color contacts may be questionable, I don't think it's true.
I've never liked the accusation that relaxing my hair meant I wanted hair like that of a white person's.
Having relaxed hair is another option among the diverse styles that I can pull off.
The truth is, when it came to relaxing my hair I didn't have a choice. I have been getting relaxers ever since I was a small child, as is the norm with many young black females.
I don't fault my mom for doing what she thought she was supposed to do, keeping my appearance acceptable for society. Let's face it, being a nappy headed black kid can be cause for teasing and self hate. I'll be honest, as a kid I am guilty of ridiculing other black girls for not have chemically straightened hair like myself and every other normal black woman I knew.
The past is the past. I can't undo those hurtful things I may have said just like I can't undo 20+ years of getting my hair relaxed.
For the past 5 months I have gone without relaxing my hair. This did not start out as an intentional process, I just had other things to worry about and getting my next touch up was the last thing on my list of problems. It wasn't until I started noticing how much thicker and healthier my roots were becoming, I decided to continue to hold off from getting my hair relaxed. I began researching transitioning from relaxed to natural and found that there is a vast online community of women that have similar stories to my own.
So I transitioned for 5 months. It was boring. The plan was to grow out my natural hair and just keep trimming the relaxed hair until in eventually grew out completely... didn't happen.
On Wednesday, May 11, 2011, I stood in front of the mirror with a pair of scissors and I proceeded to cut off all of my relaxed hair. I felt like I was cutting away all that I've ever known myself to be for the past 20 or more years. I knew that doing this wouldn't make most of the people in my life happy, some of them be upset and others would be confused. I am ready to be teased, laughed at, criticized, ridiculed and whatever other negative responses that comes with my decision. No one in my immediate family is natural, if they understand fine, if they don't, fine. I didn't do this for anyone but myself. I couldn't be happier.
I'm not trying to make any political statements with my new hairstyle. It's just hair. It will grow. If I decide to keep it this short for a while that's okay too. The moral of this lengthy story is that I've never felt more confident and beautiful. Right now, I am everything that I was raised to be afraid of; black, bald and nappy headed. I love me and everything that is me. My hair is nappy because it's supposed to be.
