I styled my hair differently every day last week. I did this with intention, as I do everything. I knew I'd be putting my hair back in braids this weekend, so I wanted to get as much wear out of it as possible before I put my hair away again. When I first took my hair down two weeks ago, I began to pick up on the reactions from coworkers, associates, randoms who don't know how to mind their business. It was unsettling to be reintroduced to the outspoken, ill-informed, unwarranted opinions of people who are just dying to say something about my hair. So, the next week (last week), I wore my hair in as many fun, unique ways as possible—wraps, twists, buns, fros—not just as a public symbol of self love and pride, but to make sure all the nay-sayers and shit-talkers knew what time it was. In just two weeks, I re-learned these five very important life lessons, just by practicing self care in the form of hair care. Here's the breakdown:
1. Healthy Hair > Long Hair
When I was first transitioning from relaxed to natural hair, it took me 10 months to actually go through with my big-chop. I was hell-bent on retaining my length for as long as possible. Even with my split ends, breakage galore, weird hair patterns, and frizzy roots, I still held onto my length. I wasn't ready to entertain the thought of big-chopping because, frankly, I wasn't comfortable with myself. As silly as it sounds, I thought cutting my hair super short would make my face look fat(ter). I've always had a round face with big, chubby cheeks, and while many find it adorable, I think it makes me look like a child. Plus, I didn't know if short hair would look good on me. It had never been shorter than shoulder-length, plus I'd never seen what my actual curl pattern looked like anyway, so why let the length go?
Because it was holding me back, just like every other "dead" thing in my life. I have a tendency to hold onto things that no longer serve me, just because I've grown used to them or because I have history with with these things. Whether a stand-still relationship, dead-end job, or damaged hair, I've had to learn to let these things go so I can have all-the-more room to grow. Sure, doing this kind of "personal pruning" is uncomfortable. It hurts to cut people out of your life, and it took some getting used to after cutting my hair, but it's necessary. My hair only flourished after I big-chopped—when I literally let that dead weight go. My curls popped, I adapted, and now I take pride in my hair. Similarly, when we let go of things that no longer serve a meaningful purpose, we are given opportunities to fill that space with things that do.
2. Protect Your Space
Now a natural girl for almost six years, I've encountered so many cringe-worth encounters that involve the politics of my hair. Being a Black woman with a 4c curl pattern (the thickest, coarsest pattern of them all) attracts a number of questions and comments. Some are meaningful and uplifting (and usually come from other Black women) about how thick and healthy it looks, how well I style my hair, inquiries about the products I use, etc. But sometimes, I encounter comments and behaviors that cross the line. People (mostly white women) ask me questions about "how my hair grows like that" or why I change my style so often or how my hair is "such an interesting choice". And of course, as one could guess, I've dealt with my fair share of hands reaching out to touch my hair, always without my permission.
I've said it once, and I'll say it again: "the devil works in the idle hands of white women", and this couldn't be any more true when it comes to white women who have the audacity to reach their hands to grab one of the most sacred parts of me.
Though I love my hair (and my skin and my body and so on), I don't always love the way people treat these parts of me. Because people can be condescending, ignorant, and just straight-up trash. All this means is that I have to be that much more intentional with the people, things, and energies I allow in my space. I wear my hair on my head like a crown, making me Queen. I am Queen of my person, my space, my belongings. And as Queen, I have the final say with those whom approach me. So no, you can't touch my hair, my skin, or my items. Yes, I will hurt your feelings if you attempt to do so, anyway. And no, I ain't sorry.
3. Patience. Persistence. Perseverance.
Here's the obvious, annoying truth: hair doesn't grow overnight, at least not the way we want it to. It took years for my hair to become as big and as long as I wanted it to be, and even then, things still didn't go right. But, I've learned that my relationship with my hair has a lot to do with perspective. Though the wait is long and Father Time takes his time, the pay-off of being consistent with my hair is worth it, not only for what grows out of my head, but for what's in it as well.
This translates easily to other areas of my life where I need to be patient, persistence, and persevere—my health, my career, my bank account (that last one really hurts). It's easy to get discouraged or derailed or flustered when things don't come together as quickly as I'd like them to, or when my plan is thrown off due to unforeseeable circumstances. But, with time and space, I know things will come together when they're supposed to, not necessarily when I want them to. Sooner or later, I'll see results and reap the benefits of my hard work. It'll happen, period.
4. You're Not Perfect; Neither Is Your Hair
I had been natural for five years before the unthinkable happened: my hair betrayed me. Unfortunately, after all of those years of work and nourishment, my hair became permanently damaged after straightening it for a couple months, and before I knew it, my hair barely held a curl at all. I legit shed tears; I was that upset. To watch all of my hard work disappear in such a short period of time genuinely hurt my feelings.
At some point, I had to realize that my hair isn't perfect, because the person it belongs to isn't perfect. I'm talking about me as a person, being, mortal, what-have-you. I'm gonna mess up. There will be does where I don't take care of my hair (or myself) the way I should. I'll go without certain things or indulge too much in others. What's more important than realizing my faults is trying to be better, anyway. Yes, my curls were ruined, but that won't stop me from being my best moving forward and cutting myself some slack along the way. Even though I'm not perfect, I still believe I deserve the best: my best. So why get down on myself when I miss the mark? I won't let my imperfections hinder me from trying to be better.
5. Do You, Boo-Boo.
Someone's always gonna have something to say. My hair is either glorious or unprofessional, a representation of who I am or an unwarranted political statement. Because, though my hair is finally beginning to become normalized, it is still not the norm, even though this is how it grows out of my scalp (ridiculous, I know).
I am not the norm—not the majority, not put first, not in possession of the kind privilege I could only dream of. Yet, I still deserve to exist. My hair deserves to be celebrated for it's versatility, uniqueness, curls, and for doing the magic trick of defying gravity as it grows. As my hair deserves to just be, so do I. And I'll never forget that, even after my hair is long gone.
The lesson of all lessons: Imma do what I want, anyway. Because that's how I am.
Someone's always gonna have something to say, good or bad. My existence as a Black woman in America in and of itself is peculiar, by definition. So, I might as well do me the best ways I know how, since it was gonna be a problem with someone, either way. It's my hair, my body, my everything. How others think/feel about it is none of my business. My only business is me. What a wonderful thing to learn about yourself, simply by being yourself.
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