"Natural hair is not for everyone."
"Natural hair is not professional."
"Maybe you should straighten your hair."
"You should comb/brush your hair,"
"Are you going to leave the house like that?"
These are all comments that I have gotten, and I'm sure any black girl or woman who has decided to "go natural" has received. Not only are these comments outrightly offensive, they are just plain annoying. We have been so conditioned (no pun intended) to the point where a chemical relaxer is considered the norm, and wearing your hair in its natural state is considered "radical" or outrageous. When will we exit this self-hating stage?
At just 7 years old, my mother took me to get my first chemical relaxer. As a child, I was excited. I went to a school where the majority of the kids were white and I was always envious of their straight hair. When my mother told me that I was going to have straight hair that fell down my back, I was overjoyed. That meant no more "puffy" hair. No more combs breaking in my hair once a week. No more having to get my hair braided or cane-rowed all the time. I could finally have hair like all the other girls at school. The kind of hair that blew with the wind. The kind that the media told me was the only beautiful kind.
I enjoyed my straight hair for the 10 years I had it. I felt beautiful. I made fun of other black girls whose parents would not let them get a relaxer. I thought it was outrageous that a mother would let her daughter's hair look like "that." "That" meaning natural.
When I turned 15, I started watching YouTube videos about beauty and fashion. I soon stumbled upon black girls with long, beautiful, curly and kinky hair. I was amazed. I kept saying, "I really wish my hair looked like that." After that, I delved right into what is known as "The Natural Hair Movement." I came to realize that if I just stopped getting relaxers, maybe my hair would be just as amazing.
After trying, trying, trying and then failing, one day in August of 2014, I decided to just cut all of my hair off. I was nervous but I still felt like I was doing the right thing. When I was done, I had less than an inch of hair on my head. I looked like a different person. My mother was not very happy with my decision. I stayed in my house for an entire week, essentially mourning the loss of my hair.
Eventually, I came to realize that we, as black women, have been conditioned (this time, the pun is intended) to believe that our hair in its natural state is a problem. A problem we have been taught to fix by chemically relaxing our hair from tender ages. A problem so deeply ingrained in our minds and society that you cannot attain certain jobs simply because of your hair. A problem so deeply ingrained that girls get suspended from school because of their natural hair. A problem so deeply ingrained that I did not leave my house for seven days because I was afraid of what everyone would think.
My question to you, the reader, then, is when will this self-hating end? When will black women embrace their natural texture? When will black mothers stop feeling the need to chemically relax their daughters' hair? When will it be OK for black women to wear their natural hair without societal backlash? When will we free ourselves from this mental slavery? My question is, when?
