Believe it or not, the standard of beauty in the Caribbean can often indicate lighter skin, lighter eyes, and straighter hair. To the point where very curly hair (think Solange Knowles' natural hair) is called "pelo malo" which literally translates to "bad hair" in English.
Growing up in the Caribbean with some of the strongest women in my life, my mother and my grandmother, I was taught to look after my appearance. My hair was the biggest factor. Hair could either make or break you.
I always observed my mom and the way she would leave the hair dryer to her roots to the point where it smelled like burnt matches.
Some of my most vivid memories of my grandmother included her brushing her hair to smooth out her curls, yet transforming the ends of her hair to little bouclés.
To me, both of them were beautiful either way. Whether they wore their hair straight, semi-straight, or curly. But since I always saw them altering their natural hair, I felt like my curls were not beautiful.
Compared to both of them, my hair was the curliest out of all.
My paternal grandmother has very prominent African roots, as well as my maternal great-grandmother. The rest of my grandparents have Spanish, German, and Irish lineage, a.k.a straight hair. And honestly, I was sad that I didn't come out with luscious hair.
In elementary school, I was picked on by other kids when my mom would split my hair into four or even eight sections, and do braids.
When my hair was put back into a ponytail or a braid, my edges would not stay put. My mom even avoided blow drying my hair because as soon as I would step out into the hot and humid Caribbean weather, it would begin to curl and frizz at the roots.
I used to want my hair down because I believed that if I left it down long enough, it would grow and become straight. When I left Puerto Rico and settled in New Jersey, my mom began to blow dry my hair every single Sunday.
The kids I went to school with didn't see my real hair up until I was 13. For every single event whether it was picture day, the first day of school, traveling, or any special occasion, my hair HAD to be straight and there was no if's, and's, or but's.
I was really insecure and I was scared to be judged because I felt like curls were the synonym of ugly. Kids in middle school called my hair a "bird's nest" and always told me to brush it because it was "messy". I also had these guys calling my hair "nappy" and "bushy". Even one guy I had a huge crush on told me this.
Having my self-esteem brought down to a negative zero, there came a day where I said that it was time to flaunt what God gave me.
Towards the end of high school, I stopped going to the salon the day before school began. I stopped straightening my hair for hours and buying expensive, Keratin products to keep my hair straight.
I stopped listening to what others said. My hair tells a story, my hair is life, and life isn't always straight. It tells about my origins, even my hair damage tells the story of a journey that I was picked on for being different. And sometimes, being different is a good thing.
There are times when I'm still criticized for the way that I keep my hair down and "messy". But you know what? I love it. There are days where I do struggle keeping it defined and in one place, but my curls have a mind of their own and that's okay.
I also felt that by constantly making my hair into something that it wasn't, I was degrading my African heritage. And I love being African. I love being European. I love being TaĂna. I love being Puerto Rican. Hair is a form of DNA and I love my DNA.
To anyone who is struggling with their hair, embrace who you are. Your hair is a reflection of your descendants, of your strength, and of your beauty. It's absolutely okay trying a different style, color, or cut but it becomes an issue when you do it out of insecurity and self-hatred.
Let your hair roam free and let your soul free. You never know who you could be inspiring with your confidence.