It’s been said that the average woman looks at her reflection at least fifty times a day. What could she possibly be looking at to make her stare in astonishment or even disappointment this many times a day?
Every morning, I wake up, brush my teeth, take a leak, and then take a look in the mirror (possibly not in that exact order, but you get the point). I stare at my reflection, and the very next thing I do is reach for my hair. These little wool-like strands make me smile and it’s funny to think that none of this would have been possible five months ago.
Growing up, like most little black girls, I remember every morning before school, my mother would sit me down and would part my sisters' and my hair into several plaits. She used so many good smelling products like pink oil moisturizer, just-for-me detangler, and of course, coconut grease. To top things off, she would decorate each plait with a twin bead or a beret that matched out school uniforms, and reminded us that we had better come back home with each one. We couldn’t wait for summer to come around because we could get cornrows. Cornrows are the cute braids on the scalp that Alicia Keys would wear in like 2001, for those of you who don’t know. They were so tight on the scalp that you’d have to sleep the pain off (LOL), but it was worth not getting my hair done every day. Unfortunately, around the time I was eight, everything I knew about my natural hair texture would soon change.
One Saturday morning, my sisters and I went to have a visit with a lady named Mrs. Alma. She was a short, stout lady that took no mess. We were there for a press and curl. I was so scared because this form of straightening the hair is used with a hot comb, literally. Thank God I managed to make it through without getting my head burned. I remember walking to the mirror and just thinking, "Hmm… I’m gonna be missing out on Saturday morning cartoons for this!”
This hair routine went on all the way until junior high school. Around that age, you start to question who you are (or at least I did). I was old enough to start styling my own hair just the way I liked it until one day I had a realization of who I really was when it came to my hair. I would constantly look at the mirror and what it was feeding me. I was being served a platter of disappointment. This couldn’t have been what my hair was supposed to be. Even though I would get compliments on my hair, I just felt like the need to straighten my hair for others' approval wasn’t me. So I started to pin my hair back and wear a lot of updos. One day my mother noticed the change in my hairstyles. I remember crying in the car about my hair because it was like I was being forced to have my hair in a way that was fit for our society. Personally, I have nothing against the straight hair look, but it’s so not worth the time and the money put in it.
By my sophomore year in high school, I wore a lot of braided hairstyles and occasionally straightened my hair. The straightening completely stopped by my senior year of high school. Mrs. Alma passed away, and although old things pass away, they open the door for a new beginning. So I packed my suitcase with all the conditioners in the world (or at least the local black hair store) and my wide tooth combs. Au revoir press combs! Bonjour to curls and kinks! However, I wasn’t traveling this road alone. Many black women decided to join the wave of natural hair. We were all enjoying the waves and many still are, but I washed onto the Land of Locs.
The Land of Locs is comprised of all kinds of people from different ages, races, and genders. Though with so much diversity, it is still a style that is frowned upon in many schools and work places. This was a style that always was stuck in my mind at a young age, but I was never allowed to have it (…parents). I figured that maybe I could wear this style when I was much older because there were so many styles I wanted to try.
However, until now, that philosophy completely changed.
When getting your hair locked, especially if you’re a female, the reflection of yourself is great and the reactions of those around you are even better. Many people will like it and so many people will want to touch it, and of course there will be those who absolutely hate it. My very first day of stepping out into the world with my hair locked someone asked me, "Why?"
I know, a complete swerve-moment, right? But I was speechless. I could’ve punched that person, but thinking back on it now this is what I would say. “I did not pay $60 for my hair to gain the approval of you or anybody else. I stopped that a long time ago. I am not my hair--my hair is a part of me. It doesn’t define me. I define it, and frankly, if you don’t like my hair you can SUCK MY DREAD!"
Okay, back to reality.
Yes, my hair is a bit different compared to a lot of women, but every day I look in the mirror I have my own approval. So ladies, your spotlight may have caught your eye differently. You may be happy with your hair, your smile, and your ears, or maybe even your boobs. Just have your own seal of approval!
