The other day I broke a comb.

The next, my hair was soft as silk.

A week later a curl again began to appear.

I was so angry.

Why did I have this curse put upon me?

Why was I not like my friends?

Years later I realized that my hair was a gift;

I was given, infinite beauty.

If I so wanted, I could have it close to my head, tight and firm.

And if my heart so desired, later, I could have it flowing down my back,

cascading curls and all.

Why was my hair my gloom?

The answers lie in society.

The magazines tell a little girl what to wear,

what to think and say.

They give them how-to's on how to fix their hair in the right fashions,

and tells them that they are less than who they are.

For me, I now see that what I once thought was ugly,

terrifying and beastly, is my grace.

I pity those who do not think so.

Those who cannot leave their homes without the perfect look.

They do not know their grace.

They instead hide behind locks of what was once another's grace.

Now I too am guilty of this.

Sometimes my grace is too much.

I often hide it away from prying eyes,

only to again realize my gracious gift.

Embrace your gift young girls.

Your hair, is your grace.