Being the child of a mixed-race couple, I was born with reddish-brown type 3B/3C curly hair. If you have no idea what that means, basically, I was born with very frizzy ringlet curls. Not quite as tightly curled as type 3C, but not as loose as type 3B. If you're still confused, you can see what I am talking about here.

For a majority of my childhood, up until I hit puberty, I only ever wore my hair in its natural state with the exception of special occasions. Usually, it was in braids or in puff balls on my head.

My hair has always been relatively thin compared to other people my race, but that didn't mean it was any easier to manage. It was still pretty thick and pretty long. On top of that, it was crazy frizzy. I broke many a comb, brush, and hair clip in it. I lost bobby pins in it. One time I got my own hand so stuck in it I cried. It was a beast to deal with.

Despite the fact that I never actually learned how to properly manage it, my hair had its good days and I loved my hair. I wore it down a lot more as I got older and let the mini afro do its thing throughout my school day. I looked like an actual Q-Tip, but I digress.

The older I got, the less I loved my hair. I grew to hate it actually. I have never been the girl that wanted to stand out and peer pressure kind of ruled my life for a really long time. So when I quickly realized that all of my friends were straightening their hair or dying their hair, I really, really wanted to fit in. So, I asked my mom for a blow dryer and my first hair straightener.

I spent hours upon hours washing, conditioning, brushing, blow drying, and then straightening my hair. It took me anywhere between 1-3 hours, and I did it every day, all week long, for six years. I don't know how much you know about hair and heat, but it takes a huge toll on the health of your hair and your scalp. On top of that, I wanted to dye it a new color every single chance I got.

Over the years, I would be too lazy to straighten my hair before school sometimes, so I would wear it curly. On those days I was beyond self-conscious all day long. I hated being seen with my hair that way, it always caused too much attention for me.

Even in spite of the days when my hair finally got to breathe, I slowly noticed a change in my curl pattern over the years. Because the change was so gradual, I didn't really care about it. I just let it happen. It took me until my freshman year of college to realize just what I had done to my hair over the years.

I went through a period of self-rediscovery and body positivity. I took time to analyze myself head to toe and embrace all of the things that made me, me. I wanted to start embracing my hair for the curly mess that it was. The only problem was my hair was not the way it used to be. My hair was unhealthy; it was breaking off, and it was barely curling anymore and the frizz was unmanageable.

I had ruined my hair. Absolutely trashed it.

I spent the summer between freshman and sophomore years of college leaving it curly and growing it out. I treated it with hair masks, I stopped dying it. Because of the six years of damage, it wasn't enough. I tried cutting most of it off, twice. Even still, my hair isn't the same. My hair is more type 3B at the roots and a very loose, very frizzy type 3A now.

The more I sit here and think about it, I am actually pretty upset with myself for ruining my hair that way. I would kill to have the hair that I was so desperately trying to hide when I was 13. My hair may never be the same as it used to be. I am also pretty upset that not only did I hide my hair, I was hiding a part of myself I should have embraced. That's a theme in my life, to be honest.

I realize now that my hair was beautiful exactly the way it was, and I shouldn't have hidden it just to fit in because I ruined it and it's beauty in the process. I've always hidden things about myself to fit in, and I am realizing now that I shouldn't because it only hurts me in the end.