Yes. Black Hair is That Important
Black History Month Stories
Welcome to day 7 of Black History Month! We are a week in, and I want to discuss one of the most celebrated parts of Black culture: hair!
Our hair represents the roots of our foundations (no pun intended). Going back to slavery, our hair was the first thing owners claimed to strip us of who we were. I have talked about hair in multiple social media posts, mostly about its history and importance. But today I wanted to come at it from a different angle. I want to share my journey and connect that to why black hair is always celebrated.
I Was a Product of the Early 2000-2010s Relaxed Hair Craze.
If you don’t remember, or you’re a young reader, straight hair was extremely popular in the early 2000s and 2010s. I was blessed with naturally thick, coily hair, or “difficult hair,” as it was called. Easy hair was hair similar to my mom’s: thick but wavy and easily straightened. As young as I can remember I would always refer to my hair as difficult, and overall just hard to manage. Every summer my best friend and neighbor Emily, and I, would plot how to get my mom to say yes to getting my hair wet with water balloons and water guns. “Why can’t you just get it wet?” she asked every year. I would sigh and explain that I would have to wash it, and it would take all night. “Just get the ends wet” I would say “That way I won’t get in trouble!”
I tried my best to accept my hair and my mom found ways to make it manageable. Hot combs, rollers, and the all-mighty relaxer. Y’all, I wish I could explain the POWER I felt when walking into my white school with freshly straight relaxed hair. I couldn’t be touched. I was getting attention from boys who would typically ignore me. All the girls wanted to know how I got “Sooo straight.” For a week I was the hot girl. Until my roots started to show, and my shame came back. “Mom hurry up and make an appointment with Keisha my roots are showing and I look nappy.” Nappy. A term that is synonymous with nigga to me. I didn’t look nappy. I looked like myself, but that wasn’t good enough. I was scared of rain, swimming would be an all-day event, and if I got anything in my hair, like sand or dirt from playing outside, my life was over.
I Used to be Against Hair That Wasn’t Mine
Despite my hardships, my hair was very healthy growing up. It was also really long. When I would have my hair appointments everyone would make comments asking if it was real, or if I was mixed. My hair never broke off, and it was diligently taken care of. Because of how I viewed my hair, I unintentionally had a negative view of protective styles. “I don’t need that my hair can be braided without added hair.” “Ugh you can tell it’s a weave, I don’t need that my hair is long enough to do whatever I want.” I look back on this part of my life with a sad pit in my stomach. I didn’t understand that the beauty of having black hair was the expression. The colorful and complex braids, the beautifully textured sew-ins, and wigs! We can completely change our hair texture at the drop of a dime. Who needs bleach damage when you can just get a weave in the color you want! Looking back I wish I could have explored more protective styles with my hair. But at the time, I just wanted to fit in with my peers. None of my white friends needed to buy hair, they just changed their own. I didn’t want to be seen as stereotypical, I just wanted to keep being the black girl who had her own hair. Like it was a prize.
College Changed Me for The Better
When I got into college and started making my own money, I began to experiment more with my hair. The first time I cut my hair, I fell in love with the freedom I had. So I cut it again. Then again. Then again. Until I had a full-on pixie cut. I loved every inch! My relaxers were done in half the time, and washing was still difficult for me but it was semi-better. I was daring and I realized I didn’t need all that hair to be noticed. Any length was great for me— As long as it was relaxed.
After I met my husband I started seeing and understanding the world of protective styles. I saw someone with box braids and fell in love with the idea. After I got them, my way of thinking about black hair was changed for the better. I had a style that I didn’t have to do. I could just wake up and go! I realized that hair was a way of expression. Every style I did after was a way to test out a different side of me. Edgy braids, long luscious weaves. I could be anything I wanted with my hair. It was a superpower, and it only took me my entire life to realize it.
Bye Bye Relaxers
“I’m going natural,” I said to Jason one day as I stood in the mirror. “And I’m cutting it all off, all of it gone!” “Do it!” he said with a supportive shrug. So I did. I embraced what my hair really was. It wasn’t hidden with a relaxer, or weave. I left it be its kinky-coily self. The first day I didn’t recognize myself. Who is this person? I hadn’t seen her since she was a toddler. Was this me? Is this who I am? It was a struggle to let my natural hair be. I kept trying to manipulate it to seem longer. I would envy looser curl textures because in my eyes they could do more with their natural hair. I wanted a giant fro but had to wait until my hair grew out. I remember searching and seeing posts that it took most people over two years. Then there was the care. I didn’t know how to take care of my hair. I had been scheduling my wash days at the salon. I had entered a whole world that was unfamiliar and scary. I would yell at the mirror frustrated. Jason would comfort me and tell me to stop putting myself down. “You’re so good at hair, you got this!” He said. “No, I’m not! I’m only good at straight hair I feel so stupid! I don’t understand this tutorial!” My mom was also out of her element and only knew how to get my hair straight, not take care of the kinks. I was on my own.
How I Am Today and Looking to the Future
Today I am over two years out from when I went natural and I have my dream afro. It’s my dream, not because of the length but because it represents my journey. I learned how to section, wash, dry, and style my natural hair. I learned that wash days are self-care days. I learned that I can blow my hair out and show off my kinks in the best way. Most importantly, I learned that ALL kinds of black hair need to be celebrated. My child will have beautiful curly mixed hair, and I am ecstatic. I can’t wait to teach them the richness that it will hold, and the importance of each curl. I want them to feel confident no matter how they have their hair, just as long as it represents them. The picture I chose is from a photo shoot my friend asked me to do. She wanted to highlight the beauty of my hair and show the versatility it has. I am forever grateful for her. Black hair is a gem, and I am forever grateful to be blessed with all of my kinks. God knew exactly what he was doing.
Kyrie Eleison— Lord have mercy upon us
LR Watkins