I AM MY HAIR
I had been growing my hair since 1995. I finally got it to where it was shoulder length, nice and thick, gave me a nice long bouncy ponytail and fell over my face when I needed it to. Any “pure breed” black African will appreciate what an accomplishment this is.
After a lot soul searching, I finally found the guts to cut my long dark, bone straight, relaxed hair in the front to give me movie-star-like bangs. My hair fell over my eyes giving me just enough room to see my way and I felt so sexy and mysterious.
My long hair framed my face so well that it covered my dark sports from all the pimples I have burst throughout my years. It felt like a mask that shielded my trueidentity and allowed me to be anyone else I wished to be. It shielded me from my insecurities; my uneven skin, my huge forehead, my not so clear eyes.
My long, dark relaxed hair got me compliments every single day. Who does not like to be the envy of everyone around them? My hairdresser was always excited to see me since it meant at least two hours of playing around with new ideas he had been formulating since the last time I saw him. My nieces wanted their hair to be just like mine. My hair was often a topic of conversation during bonding sessions with women in the loo when I went out to clubs.
I soon began to feel overwhelmed though. It was like the proverbial tail wagging the dog. My hair determined my weekend schedule since I needed at least two hours with the hairdresser on Saturdays. It determine whether I felt like I could take on the world.
So that was that. I braided my hair long enough to get a sizable amount of growth. Then I went to my hairdresser and ordered him to chop off all my processed hair. I texturised it just so I would not spend too much money replacing broken combs daily. Now I wake up in the morning, give it a quick wash, pat it dry, run some moisturizing gel through it and I am good to go.
It felt great. It was like chasing away years of self-deception. I literally felt like I was finally unearthing the real me and putting myself out there for everyone to see, to love, to hate, to ridicule, to judge. But it felt great.
It’s been around three months now and I still enjoy being able to wash my hair every morning. My afro is now about three inches long and wouldn’t you know it, all the grease I had in my long hair before was what irritated my skin and gave me all the rashes I had been trying to hide for so long. My skin feels much better now. Some friends think I look weird. My nieces think that I look like a boy. Old women look at me and wonder what the world is coming to when young women no longer comb their hair. But I feel good about myself. I’m now used to my large forehead it’s not that bad after all!! I feel beautiful and confident and now, every day is a good hair day.
(This post by Akin took me back to good old days)
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Comments
I had a pal who also shaved hers a few weeks back,she claims its like walking around naked.Hearing it from your perspective,its really interesting how different people are attached to different things.
Madmyke,
I can relate. Sometimes our hair defines who we are or who we want to be and when someone, like your friend, shaves it off, they suddenly have to find a new way to express themselves. Although when you think about it, shaving off your hair is quite an expression on it own! ”
Regards,
Nekesa
Hello,
Thanks for leaving a comment on my blog - I suppose there are lots to write about hair, especially when you have none left
in my case.
Nice to read there are people who celebrate the natural look.
Regards,
Akin