The L Chronicles: Stranded

[Note: This is a personal blog. Some of them are not personal - they empower you. Some of them are personal - they empower me. This one is very, very personal. Enjoy.]

Today, I went to CVS to pick up a couple of items. I've got a head full of natural waves, coils, and curls, and so, I'm addicted to the hair care isle of any department or drug store.

My natural hair is a "thing" for me...one that I explained here when I discussed what it meant to me to have natural hair.



I had just left a meeting with a member of the Inspired Girls advisory board and we started the conversation with, "Girl, you are working those curls...how you doin?" because that's just how we talk. In a land of waist length weaves and Beyonce dye jobs, we stand out in all of our natural glory.

As I stood on the hair isle in CVS, eyeing how overpriced their Neutrogena products are, I overheard a woman say, "Well, I'm not sure about this...for your hair...I mean...with the type of hair you have. I don't know about that, so let's go with this." I glanced up to see who was talking and more importantly to see who the comment was for and I saw a Caucasian woman who appeared to be in her 60s talking to a young girl who appeared to be black. The girl had gorgeous, thick natural hair...and of course, the white woman had straight hair (it was short and grey). The look on the girl's face was a blend of confusion with disappointment.

Instantly my heart sank. I just stood there, staring, and then quickly looked away to not seem obvious. My chest got tight, and I quickly walked off.

As I stood in front of the paper towels with tears in my eyes, I tried to understand what was going on with me. Was this PMS or was I feeling some kind of way about what I had just heard? I realized it was the latter and I felt compelled to go back over and say something, anything, to make it better somehow.

But what would I say without seeming like a pushy, militant black woman? Of course, my braidout was fluffed to perfection and my curls were defined so I would appear to be a reasonable adviser on the matter but still...I'd be sticking my nose where I wasn't invited.

I went back and forth with myself and finally decided to go over...I got back to the hair isle and they were gone. I went to the front and checked out and left the store with tears streaming down my face.

Perhaps I'm way too sensitive when it comes to this hair stuff, but for some of us, it's deeper than hair. It's about our identity and feeling beautiful and swimming upstream in a straight haired culture.

I sat in the car for a minute and realized that I was so bothered because I, as a grown woman, spent years realizing that I had to remove the kinks from my mind, not my hair. It took a shift in my consciousness for me to understand that I'm gorgeous through and through and that untamed curls or a silky press do not change that. Perhaps I was projecting my past issues onto this girl, but I had the feeling that there weren't any natural haired black women around to tell her how beautiful her hair is and to show her how to care for it properly. I would imagine that her white caregiver was overwhelmed and confused with where to begin with her thick, coily hair.

As I sat in my car, I closed my eyes and said a prayer for the girl. I prayed that light, love, and peace would surround her...that even if she grew up facing the typical ups and downs of life, she'd never feel less beautiful because of her hair. I prayed that she would look in the mirror and see beauty tangled in her strands and that her hair would be a source of pride and distinction.

I drove off wishing that level of liberation for every woman. I know that chemicals are mere style choices for some, but for many, they're unconsciously wrapped up in a system that's telling them they're not light enough, thin enough or pretty enough so they buy the weaves, the creams, and the clothes, hoping to make some invisible and unattainable cut.

I'm happy to say that I'm liberated from allowing my hair to define me, and I can't help but want the same freedom for every other woman - white, black, or other.

The lesson? Say what you want to say. You don't know whose life can be blessed & transformed by you simply stating your truth. Next time, I'll politely state mine. What I say is my responsibility; how people respond is theirs.

Later.

It's Natural...

So, I finally did it.

I transitioned from chemically treated hair to natural hair. Some will wonder why this is a big deal or something worth announcing but for many black women, hair is a “thing”…it’s not as simple as changing handbags or buying new lipstick. The roots of our issues, no pun intended, run very deep.

There is the ongoing dialog among some communities of natural haired black women that straight haired black women don’t love themselves enough – that because they use chemicals or heat to straighten their hair, they are weak minded and need the approval of white people for their identity to be validated. To an extent, I do believe that there is a population of black women who don’t understand how the media and society place an almost unbearable pressure on women to look a certain way…black women are no different only we have the issue of hair on levels I’ve not seen in other races and ethnicities.

There’s this underlying idea that many black girls learn from the time they even realize they have hair that kinky, coily hair is bad while straight or wavy is good. This idea of good vs bad hair follows many black women into adolescence as they see media images of actresses, models, and other “beautiful” women wearing straight hair. And so, they continue to get relaxers or have their hair pressed. For the sake of my position, I’m going to use straight and relaxed interchangeably until the end of this blog.

As an adolescent, I remember thinking that “nappy” hair was bad. That my hair in its natural state was not good, shouldn’t be seen, and needed to be “fixed” at the first sign of a wrinkle or kink. I remember not completely understanding why but going along with what my mother said was best. I didn’t think anything was wrong or that this was a programming issue…I just did it and liked having long, thick hair. Being natural was an exception and not the rule. Girls who had natural hair were seen as childish or eclectic. At the time, I was neither and only found myself identifying with bone straight hair.

Several years ago, I started to pursue healthier hair. I moved to California from Alabama and was on a never-ending quest to find a stylist who understood my hair care goals and would support them. I never found that person. After auditioning 17 stylists over the years, I gave up and decided to try doing my own hair. I did research and found so much information. Next thing I knew, my hair was growing and thriving…thicker and healthier than it had ever been. I was spacing my relaxers further and further apart until I was going 6 months or more before touch ups. I continued my research and discovered just how many women were wearing their natural hair…with no qualms, no apologies, no weird militant attitudes…just enjoying the way God made them. I started reading their stories and observed that for some of them, the “switch” was simple…they wanted a new style so they got one. For others, it required that they transition their minds before their hair. They had to first let go of the idea that straight was good and anything with a pattern was bad. They had to let go of the idea that other people would judge them because of their hair (even though this is true to varying degrees…I’ll get to this in a future blog). They had to let go of the idea that men would find them less attractive with natural hair. They had to let go of the idea that their natural hair would be unmanageable. They had to let go of the idea that natural hair was only for women who were “earthy”, “poetic”, or “artsy”. They had to let go of the idea that they would no longer project a professional image with natural hair. They had to let go of the idea that their hair would be “ugly” in its natural state.

I fell into the latter category. This hasn’t been easy – I had several failed transitioning attempts before this one. But the day came that I got fed up with the burning, the products, the anticipation, questioning the health of my hair and on and on and on…I do believe that it’s entirely possible to have a healthy head of hair with a relaxer but optimal health, in my opinion, is achieved naturally. I’ll never forget the day I decided to transiton…it was Saturday, April 7, and I had used a new relaxer attempting to get better results – shinier, healthier hair. I applied it, waited, and then experienced the tingling and burning. I started rinsing it and it burned…I mean, REALLY burned…enough to bring me to tears. As I stood in the shower crying and frantically rinsing, I asked myself aloud, “Why am I doing this?” I got out and looked at myself in the mirror and asked again, “Why?”

In spite of my previously failed attempts, I decided that I was going to give it another go. I don’t know why that experience was so different from the countless other times I had touched my hair up, but something changed in me that day. I was fed up. I was ready to make a change. I carried on as usual for the first few weeks and then it got tough…the new growth got thicker, the line where the 2 textures met got more noticeable, styling became more of a challenge…that was where the turning point was. Would I revert to what I knew like every other time or would I press on, deal with a bad hair day or 2 and see this thing through? I decided to just keep going. Even when I was tempted to go back to the chemicals, I always bargained with myself to wait at least 2 weeks before I did anything. Of course by that time, I had recommitted to my natural journey.

So I continued. 3 months went by, 6 months went by, an entire year passed, and I was still going. I changed products, I tried new styles, I tried new accessories and another year passed. At the 2 year mark, I realized how far I had come and that I was near the finish line. My hair was mostly natural and I had relaxed ends waiting to be chopped. I decided against doing a “big chop” of inches of hair because I’ve had long hair all of my life and in spite of having accepted the idea of natural hair, I wasn’t interested in short hair at all. My hair continued to grow and I was able to finally see the curl pattern. It was gorgeous! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I realized then that I had totally underestimated my hair and all of its potential.

Last week, I stood in the mirror doing my usual routine after having washed and deep conditioned my hair. I was gently detangling when I realized that there were just snippets of hair left at the very ends in certain areas. I wanted it off. I have no idea why…I just decided it was time. I reached in the drawer deliberately and calmly and pulled out the scissors. No deep breaths, no hesitation, no thought – I just snipped everything that didn’t resemble the curly, coily, wavy goodness I had come to know and love. When it was done, I exhaled and began to run my fingers through my hair…my hair. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized that for the first time in over 10 years, I was looking at my 100% natural hair. I felt a wave of emotion…exhilaration, excitement, pride, confusion, joy, wonder…I felt so powerful, so authentic…so me.

So here I am…a black woman with natural hair…and what an interesting place this has turned out to be. I get so many comments on my hair now…people asking to touch it, if it’s mine, what I “do” to it, my regimen, compliments. It’s interesting to observe the responses to various styles and to reflect on the way people respond to me as a person with this hair. I’ll expound on all of that later…along with the changes in my personal style and confidence.

I’ve been 100% natural for just over a week and I couldn’t be happier.

Updates and photos will follow.