As a child, I spent countless summers poolside, and no, it wasn't me striving to attain the perfect shade of brown, even though that is an added bonus. It was instead me attempting to avoid getting my hair wet, while still being able to enjoy spending time with my friends. It almost felt like every time I got my hair done, shortly after there was an invitation to go to some function, where water would be involved.

With age, I tried to start scheduling my hair appointments around when I believed that I would possibly be getting my hair wet. But, even if I missed out on the pool, I never missed out on the compliments regarding my hair. I would constantly be told how long my hair was, how "good" it was, and I would receive praise for my hair constantly looking "put together." I was taught that my beauty lied in my hair.

But was my hair really beautiful, if I had to chemically alter it to attain the look? Was my hair really beautiful, if I had to spend hours in the beauty shop? I don't think that my beauty should be dependent upon how long I'm able to sit in the chair saying my scalp isn't burning, just because I wanted to keep the relaxer in just a little bit longer in hopes that it'll make my hair just a little bit straighter or in hopes that I'll be a little more likable.

It didn't take much thought to recognize what was seen as beautiful in society, and what wasn't. Trust me, kids pick up on that kind of stuff very quickly. Whether it was in television, movies, music, magazines or even based off of which girls were every boy's grade school crush, it was quite obvious what was right.

People would direct their assumptions towards me as if they were supposed to be a badge that I wore with pride, such as how it looked like I was wearing a weave or that I must be mixed. But, in no way was this some sort of accomplishment. It wasn't until my freshman year of college when I realized just how political the decision to wear my hair was in society.

One could say it was the sharp increase of Black pride and self-love within the community I call home at my university or it could be attributed to the number of times I played "I Am Not My Hair" by India.Arie- which was far too many times- but I definitely started to reconsider what I was actively doing to my hair and by default what that meant for myself as a person.

I concluded that it was time. It was time to say goodbye to my straight hair. I was beating my addiction to the "creamy crack." I decided the best route for me was to transition from relaxed hair to natural, as opposed to hopping in with the big chop. In a way, I think this was my way of holding onto my past, holding onto the beauty and standards I once upkept.

Maybe it was the desire to spend my summer this time in the pool as opposed to poolside, but after about a year of transitioning, I have cut my hair, and with it, I have cut off the beauty standards that I once felt I had to uphold. My black is beautiful, but don't be confused, it wasn't always seen that way.