There are incidents in everyone’s lives that have shaped them in some form or fashion, either positively or negatively. The incident could be small, like tripping in front of a crush. The incident could also be large, like tripping in front of the whole town when walking across the stage at graduation. Whatever the case may be, that one moment can affect a person in the long run.

My particular incident occurred when I was in the first grade. One day I was happy six year old without a care in the world… and the next I was at the doctor’s getting help for a scalp infection (and before you ask, no it wasn’t lice or anything else like that, so please don’t go there). I was left with two options at the end of my visit: do nothing and let my hair fall out or cut it all off.

To my dismay, neither option was in the least bit desirable. However, my mom and grandmother decided that the latter option was the better one. Full disclosure: I cried like a baby when I looked at myself in the mirror. I no longer felt like a “pretty princess.”

When my hair finally did grow grow back, I made a silent vow to myself that I would never cut my hair again. As time went on, my hair was back to normal (for a while anyway).

I don’t remember how old I was when I got my first relaxer, but it was pretty early on in my life. Being natural at that time was foreign territory for many people, including my mother. So, naturally, we took the “easy” way out: creamy crack. I was hooked on this stuff for an extremely long time. The minute I found out that it was relaxer time, I would get excited to head over to my grandmother’s house. I’d sit in her chair and suffer through the burning sensation taking place on my head. I justified my actions by believing my hair looked better when it was long and bone straight. I was blinded by the world of chemical alteration that I didn’t fully understand the consequences of what I was putting myself through.

Many of the girls around me were hooked on the creamy crack as well. It was a normal and common thing to see. As I aged, though, I started to see more and more black girls around me making the decision to go natural. From freshman year on, my cousin had tried endlessly to convince me to go natural. I was stubborn and reluctant to say the least. I still didn’t have extensive knowledge about natural hair at this point in my life, so I immediately assumed that I would have to cut all my hair off in order for my hair to take on its natural form. So, I decided against it. (Are you seeing where my first grade incident comes into play?)

Fast forward three years and it’s now my senior year of high school. After years and years of using ungodly chemicals and tending to burn scabs, I decided to transition (I finally realized that was a thing- I didn’t have to do the big chop!) When my curl pattern started to come in, something in me changed. I started to realize just what I had been missing out on for so many years. Now, originally my plan was to transition completely, but I (slowly, but surely) started to consider doing the big chop. Once my natural hair grew out enough to a sort of okay length, I sat back in grandmother’s chair and let her do the honors. I looked in the mirror, first taken aback, but then happy. I was finally done indulging in toxins.

It has now been almost a year since my big chop in July of 2016 and needless to say, I regret not making the move sooner. These days, being natural has become common. It’s a wave I’m ecstatic about riding and I am joyed by the fact that many other black girls and women feel the same way. It took time, but we have recognized the power in our true selves. There are so many different types and textures and colors and lengths… it’s all so amazing to see. I admire the fact that our hair is so versatile. Our natural hair is a crown to be worn with confidence and pride. Being natural is empowering and it feels oh so good.

I will admit, the maintenance is a killer and sometimes the creamy crack does come calling, taunting me with beauty standards I no longer feel the desire to adhere to. However, despite the mild arthritis from twisting and empty pockets from natural hair products, this was a decision I wouldn’t trade for the world.

With all that being said, I want to briefly add something important. We spend way too much time, money, and effort on doing our hair for you to stick your hands it and tell me how "cool" it is. I know my hair is irresistible, but don't even think about sticking your hands where they don't belong. Thank you (: