Diary of a Natural Black Girl...

 

 

 

A little over 4 years ago I decided to grow out my relaxer and go Natural. Go Natural...as I ponder a little more on the phrase, I believe it is an oxymoron. How can one go natural, when natural is what you are? It is the way God created you, the way you were sent to this earth to fulfill your purpose...naturally. 

I decided to "transition" as I was completely horrified to chop off all my hair! I was used to having my hair on my shoulders and graze the top of my back. More so, I was used to having hair that hung. Hair that moved as I turned my head. Hair that defied humidity. Bone straight....hair.

Hair. The idea of changing my hair terrified me and I then began that journey to loving myself, naturally. It amazes me to think, that just a simple switch from what we consider "the norm," really takes you down a journey to self exploration and discovery. I don't know how, but it does. Countless hours in the mirror tugging and pulling, twisting and braiding, pressing and blow drying...all for hair. Hair.

After a year, I big chopped the day after my 21st birthday. My heart sank as my hair fell into the sink, because I had no clue what my hair looked like, natural. That first year was a struggle! I tried tons of different products, discovered shrinkage, discovered my texture, and played with style after style. However, I still didn't feel the same. My hair didn't do what my friend's did. I was the only one in the group with curly hair. The attention I was now getting wasn't the attention I wanted. My phone was constantly ringing with questions and inquiries of what to do as others made the transition as well...because we didn't understand the hair that grew from our heads, naturally.

I sat in classes with people who stared. I had boyfriends who asked how long I was planning on doing this. I had people talk behind me literally, as if I couldn't hear. I had a personal struggle trying to choose between my naturally kinky texture, and whether I should run back to creamy crack. Nobody stared when my hair was relaxed. Nobody followed behind me asking how long I was planning to wear my hair straight. Nobody cornered me in store isles or in bathrooms. Nobody paid me any attention until my hair decided to grow, naturally.

Here we are 4 years later...and my hair is still the focus of many peoples attention. I just recently watched a documentary titled "You Can Touch My Hair." (If you have not seen it, I will link it below) It is probably the most accurate representation of how I feel on a daily basis. 

http://youtu.be/uJn_i6LYFSE

Hair is something we all have however; mine along with most young ladies in the natural community, attracts more attention than any other texture of hair on the face of the earth. At least twice a week I have someone’s hands in my hair without them asking. Men, women, white, black…they believe that because it is something they are not familiar with that touching it is okay.

I've had someone say to me that they don't understand how I manage my hair with all of its tangles or inquire about how I get it so nappy. Someone asks how I get my hair like this on schedule, like clockwork every week. I've had people TELL me that my hair wasn’t real until they reach for my scalp while I am in mid-sentence. Someone makes a horribly worded joke weekly about something being "hair raising" or about how they love watching "it". They speak of my hair as if it is an object, and not an extension of my being.

They treat me as if my hair is on show at an exhibit. People see it as a science project that they have to know the procedure to, until I remind them that it is just hair. Somewhere in our history as African American women we lost sight of the reality that hair is just that, hair. I just choose to let mine grow in its natural state. I've had people tell me I had no chance in being successful in my field because of my hair. I've had people argue me down and say that my hair was a symbol of rebellion, as if this was still the 60's and 70's. I've had people tell me what I could plan to be in life and others who did not support the career path I had chosen, all because I decided to let my hair grow, naturally.

But, as I sit and think I understand the ignorance. I understand that confusion. I understand the misconceptions because we were never taught to love our hair. Sundays were braid day for the week. Relaxers were slapped into our heads at a very young age, weaves were prevalent and in the eyes of some necessary. So how can I expect for you to comprehend something that I just began to gain knowledge of 4 years ago? Yet and still, it's just hair. Hair.

 

I've been called names...Buckwheat and Tina Turner to name a few. I've been ignored by men because my hair wasn't straight. I'm certain I've been overlooked for positions I’ve applied for, despite non-discrimination policies. I've been told to make sure that I look "polished" for certain events by supervisors as if I neglect hygiene on a daily basis. I've had young women tell me that I should straighten my hair if I want to be looked at a certain way. I've read posts joking on what girls with natural hair look like. I’ve seen post after post on how people feel that the natural phase should go away. I've experienced uproars when I press my hair. I would read tons of comments that say how beautiful and amazing I look, and the complete opposite when my hair is my hair, naturally.

 

 

I believe all the way around we have allowed hair to hold too much power. We allow our hair to be a measurement of beauty instead of what truly counts. We spend hour upon hour weekly on hair. Hair. Sundays have now been replaced with extremely long wash days, weave can now be purchased on credit, and the light-skinned vs. dark-skinned debates have been replaced with Team Natural vs. Team Relaxed. We sacrifice fun all because "Our hair can't get wet" or we can’t “Sweat our hair out.” Curly girls spend hours in smoky bathrooms pressing hair to fit in, while others spend hundreds on another persons curly hair to sew in to theirs that does the same thing as the God given hair that grows from their scalps. Instead of embracing our beauty regardless of the texture, it has become a point of division. We have allowed others to control our thoughts and feelings as if the hair isn't growing from the crown of our own heads, naturally. 

 

Pressed, relaxed, loc'd, fro'd, braided what have you...it is just hair. Hair. I will continue to let mine grow in its natural state because that's what I choose to do. You are no less of a person if you decide against it. However, to those who judge not only me, but others who decided to embrace our natural coils; who feel that natural hair is a playground for their hands; and that beauty does not lie in the eye of the beholder but within the strands that grow from a persons head. I challenge you to look beyond your societal filter, breakthrough the surface vanity and "normal," and at the very least, learn to accept the decisions of others. Don't fear or bash what you do not understand, seek knowledge. Come to the table with an open heart, ready to drop your prejudices and see things for how they really are. That natural doesn't define me; it's a part of me. 

Signed,

 

A Natural Black Girl

 

Photo-cred: Spencer Glover

 

www.spencerglover.biz