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IN the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God,
and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made
by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.
John 1:1-3
I think I had my first hair relaxer when I was
in the sixth grade. I wanted to have hair that resembled the hair of the other
girls in school. Plus,
I thought that my hair would be easier to take care of if it was straight. My mom had been my
hairdresser until then. It almost always hurt when she had to comb through a
tangle in my natural hair. She tried to straighten my hair with a hot comb once
or twice, a stench-filled endeavor of heated metal, oil and burnt hair.
The beautician I went to for the first
"professional" hair straightening apparently left the relaxer in too
long. Some of my hair ended up breaking off, but that didn't stop me from repeating
the process until I was in my late 20's. The constant cycle of relaxer, hair
oiling, hair rolling, blowout comb, curling iron, semi-regular hot oil treatments and
touch ups were a ritual of sorts.
If I remember
correctly, I had my last hair relaxer in 1995 prior to moving back to Texas. I returned to Texas
that July for an extended visit with one of my brothers and his family. The
visit turned into a relocation. My funds were very limited at the time, especially
after I moved into my own place. I let my hair go. As it returned to its
natural texture, I used different gels that were supposed to enhance its curliness.
I rarely achieved the look that I wanted. My hair is naturally thick and looks
like it grows out instead of down, hardly the American ideal of long locks that cascade past a
woman's shoulders. At one point in the 1990's, I had enough spending money to pay
someone to put synthetic braids in my hair. They were fake, but they were long.
Quite a few people have stared at me critically
or made negative comments since I let my hair go natural. The funny thing is
most of the critics, which includes a couple of my family members, have been
black. It's as if they've been disappointed with a trait that reflects the
African part of my ancestry. One of the family members, who is now deceased,
even told me (jokingly, I hope) to wear a wig the next time I visited him. I laughed at his comment. I never had the opportunity to visit him again.
Quite a few people
have also given me compliments regarding my natural hair. Some of them have
been other black women who wanted to know if I do hair or how I take care of my hair.
I've had a lot of
time since 1995 to think about my hair's natural state. Although lack of funds
was the initial reason for going natural, I never put aside money later on to
get my hair relaxed again. I started asking myself why I should subject my hair
to harsh chemicals to fit a certain standard of beauty. I also started asking myself
why that standard of beauty should be my standard of beauty. Then, I started
questioning standards of beauty. I realized that the hair texture I
have is the hair texture that God gave me. I woke up to the fact that criticism
of a feature is criticism of its Maker. If my natural hair is good enough for
God-Who made it-then who am I to complain about it or to try to change
it?
I've given up on
buying loads of hair care products. Currently, I use shampoo and conditioner or sometimes just shampoo or a shampoo/conditioner
combo. When I use a separate conditioner, I usually comb my hair while the
conditioner is still in so that I can get the tangles out fairly easily. Other
than that, I basically have wash and go hair that I wear as is or in twists
that hold well for a few days-no more harsh relaxers, hair oil, hair rollers or
blow dryer followed by curling iron; no more hot oil treatments or hot combs;
no more inconvenient convenience to please anyone other than God.
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