My Hair Story

Nothing like a New Year to get you motivated huh.









Well, This is my hair after a washing and a two-strand twist/bantu knot. 3 months of growth and healthier than ever (IMO).


Now, many people will wonder why the big hub-hub about my going natural. First, to me, it's a big part of loving myself as I am, naturally. I haven't seen my natural hair since I was 12 years old and even then the choice to relax wasn't mine (not that I complained either).

More after the jump

One of the last times (documented in pics) I was natural.

I had gone to my aunt's shop to get it flat-ironed for a different look for a school function. That was a big deal since my father was vehemently against it but my mom talked him down until he gave me permission. I remember sitting in my aunt's (who is an awesome hairdresser and stylist)chair waiting my turn to get my hair washed. My cousin Natalie asked what I came to do and I told her very proudly that I was getting it flat-ironed. All she said was come here, sat me down in the chair and the next thing I know - my scalp was on fire. 5 minutes later, after enduring the chemical burn so that my cousin could get it "Indian straight" I was under the sink feeling like I had just had an encounter with Tyler Durden, except his kiss was now my straight, very fine, not even close to shoulder length hair. But I loved it.

At 18 or 19
The longest my hair has ever been

From then on I was known as the "white girl" of the family because I was always fussing with my hair. Pushing it behind my ears, running my fingers through it and shaking it out like I was Farrah Fawcett in Charlie's Angels. I'm assuming my prep school accent didn't help either.

A couple of years later, I went to Maryland with my grandmother to visit my uncle. He is a preacher and was receiving his apostleship so it was a BIG deal. He sent us to the salon of one of his members and, man, did she eff my scalp up. I have, to this day, never felt pain like I did on that day. I had a sensitive scalp before but since that episode I couldn't stand the relaxer for longer than it took to do it.

As a bridesmaid in my cousin's wedding
One of the good hair days.

Then, to make matters worse, I developed a condition called seborrheic dermatitis - *waits while you google* (yes it's gross; yes, I hate it; no, there is nothing I can do about it but manage it) so relaxing my hair only made my breakouts worse, stressed me out and made them even WORSE and yet I still continued with the vicious cycle. Now, fed up of the burns, the flaking, the pain, the time lost and just curious to see what grows out of my head - I've decided to go natural.



Halloween - a couple weeks after making my decision to transition Using two hair pieces on either side (like I needed to say it)

Even that decision has caused hubbub of its own. Everyone, except the men and one aunt, in my family has relaxed hair. All of them can't see life without the creamy crack. Many of them question my motivations asking me if I can manage it (combing, maintenance etc) and telling me that it won't "suit" me (that last statement includes a couple of friends as well). I've touched on that before in a previous post but it still irks me. How can what grows out of my own head not suit me. Is my natural hair not good enough because it's not straight and silky? Doh eff me up. Steups!

Anyways, before this disintegrates into another rant, I shall proceed.

I've gone 3 months learning how to treat my new hair. My new half way hair. This not here nor there hair that is almost like a bridge between two points: what the world expects and who I am. It's been a labour of love. I will freely admit that I sometimes want to run back to the salon, cry foul and watch all my beautiful new hair conform to its chemical shackle. I don't know how to treat my hair, not even my mother did. This wiry, curly, kinky new child that is forming its follicles under its rapidly disappearing broken predecessor is a mystery to me. But I want to learn it.

In truth, it (my hair) reminds me of the nursery rhyme:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead
When she was good, she was very very good
But when she was bad, she was horrid.

Some days, she feels so nice - soft, submissive, springy. Other days, she refuses to listen to any brush, comb or hair product then gets sent to the corner and stuffed beneath my trusty dunce cap. But she is mine - and I feel infinitely proud of her.

A dunce cap day

Soon, she will be coming into her own as I have decided on my big chop date: June 6th - my 25th birthday. 9 months after making the decision to go natural.

Last Saturday

I look forward to having you along for the journey.