I recently cut all my hair off. All of it. “The big chop,” it’s called among black women who transition to natural hairstyles by cutting off all the relaxed hair. So this new beginning is called a TWA, for teeny weeny afro. The mental anguish and stress of getting to this point is something I am ashamed to admit. You see, I like to think of myself as highly evolved when it comes to hair and the vanity associated with it. But I have maintained a-hair-down your-back hairstyle for years, and laughed when people yanked on it to figure out the wig or weave quality (it was not either). So this big chop was a bit of shock to people around me, friends and colleagues alike, who have had nothing but great things to say about the new do.
How did I get here? Again, I am embarrassed by this but bear with me.
My routine of a salon appointment every seven weeks was somewhat mild compared to many friends of mine who relax their hair. I had maintained a regimen of once every 7 weeks for a relaxer and trim, and everything else I simply did myself. One friend visits the salon every single week for a wash, set, weave, braids, everything. Weekly hair appointments. The thought alone gives me palpitations because let's face it: I hate spending money on hair and I don't have the time to devote to my hair in weekly appointments. Needless to say, facing one more appointment before making my big move to another city, it hit me: is this it for the rest of my life? Am I going to be prisoner to the creamy relaxer forever? Who will do my hair in Washington DC? I don't want to start looking for another person over the course of another year. Everything about this process just seemed like drudgery and punishment for the rest of my life. And it is self-imposed!
I began to do a mental survey. The majority of my friends it turns out had transitioned to their natural hair long ago. I had never paid attention to this. These are friends who are close to me: Holly, Krystal, Muriel, Falashade, Kim, Tara, Lolade…everyone I could think of that I communicate with on a regular basis. I was the odd woman out. Then I went on Facebook and looked at other friends I hadn’t seen in a while or recently reconnected with and the list was even longer. Michelle, Dani, Barella, etc. Then I paid attention to other black women with short natural hair: the two top Nigerian women at the World Bank, the CEO of Xerox, to name a few. I set this little factoid aside.
Last summer, I went to get short braids to begin the process of transitioning. My hair was entirely too long for the style I wanted so I asked the Senegalese woman to cut my hair. She literally freaked out on me. “I will never cut this beautiful hair.” Are you okay, she asked me? As in, have you lost your mind? She talked me out of it, and I settled for cornrows that were packed in the back.
She, and several others asked me why I would ever go natural. “It’s so hard to comb,” they say, and you have such nice hair. It always came to this. Nice = straight. I still think that I let go of the “nice hair” title a long time ago, but maybe I didn’t. See as an undergraduate, I wrote a thesis of sorts titled Children's Literature and the Politics of Hair in Books for African American Children. The discussion was centrally this issue of how we deal with hair and natural African hair textures in media, particularly children’s books. My professor, Dr. Donnarae MacCann insisted I publish it after graduation. A co-author and a year later, it was published. I relaxed my hair (after all, nothing says I should not), and promptly dropped this line of inquiry as an academic pursuit and moved on with my life.
A few days ago, I posted 4 pictures on my Facebook page and proceeded to get the most comments and emails I’ve ever gotten regarding any other topic. Four people have emailed me privately telling me I have given them the courage to go public with their natural hair. One of them, my dear friend, told me she has not relaxed her hair in over a year but has not had the courage to come out with it so she’s been wearing wigs. Another friend sent me a BBM telling me that I’ve inspired her and that she is now inclined to give up the weave she's been clutching as she deliberates what to do with her natural hair underneath. She has been scared to go natural…”just like that.”
What? Why fear? Why the shame? Why do we need courage to wear our hair short and natural? This, I admit, I was not immune, despite that essay I co-wrote long ago about images in children's literature: the anguish and high stress about cutting my hair short and going natural. But I simply decided (as I am inclined to do) that this (shame, fear) cannot control my life. So I cut it all off, and I love it.
I have not done this topic justice but I will keep this post to a manageable length. It is an ongoing discussion as I continue to learn about my natural hair, and enjoy it as a short crop or a lengthier style. In the meantime, here are my facts:
I'm on the right, with my natural-hair friend Tara
- I cut my hair off because I want to transition from the relaxed hair to my natural hair. I don't particularly like weaves, and they are not a long-term solution. Here's an unfortunate example.
- I do not feel that relaxed hair is the only option available to me and I am determined to discover how to take care of, and style my natural hair, and wear it beautifully.
- It is a tragedy that we are brought up to believe that chemically straightening our hair is the only way to be pretty.
- For some the right of passage was a relaxer around 12 years old, for others, tragically it starts earlier, say at 4.
- The damage this can do to our hair and scalp is unimaginable.
- Yes, coily hair is harder to comb. So my style choices will not involve careless combing or running my fingers through my hair.
- I am not under any illusion that natural hair is no-maintenance hair. It is not. But I don't have to burn myself, hijack my life, or fit a prescribed look to achieve a look.
- Black women are unnecessarily harsh on themselves with respect their hair. We spend too much time, money, and take too much abuse all around the issue of our hair.
- Our natural hair, particularly the kinky kind, is beautiful. And I MUST love mine since no one will love it for me.
- No one at work (or your school) is particularly concerned with your hair. They have their own lives to lead.
- Some resources include: www.curlynikki.com; www.nappturality.com; going-natural.com.
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