So lately everybody and their cousin seems
to be on about natural hair. If you're part on the blog world (in fact even if
you aren’t) you’ll have noticed the many
many many...many articles, websites and fan pages dedicated to natural hair. If
you’re a natural like me chances are you love it and hope this “trend” carries
on for as long as society/pop culture/ the powers that be can stomach it. If you’re not a natural haired girl I suspect
you’re sick of it. Us naturals have a way of shoving our less-than-modest and
sometimes damn near militant opinions of girls who rock weaves, perms and/or
relaxed hair in everybody’s face. Then
again you may not care either way. Hair is just hair right?
No matter which category you fall into you
must be amazed but how much of a “thing” natural hair has become. I can’t speak
for anybody else but my hair journey turned out to have very little to do with
hair and more to do with self understanding and self acceptance. Like most
African kids my love affair with the creamy crack started fairly young. I was convinced
(no fault of my mother) that my kinky African hair was unmanageable and must be
straightened. This love affair continued on and off until my first year of Uni.
My first roommate had long natural hair. To be honest besides one random cousin
we all assumed was low-key adopted or something, I had ever met anyone with
long beautiful 100% natural hair. I saw it on TV but didn’t personally know any
of those people so I simply didn’t think it was possible for people like me to
grow long hair. After lusting over my roomies hair for some months, I decided
to give it a try. It wasn’t like I would be giving much up anyway. My dad has
awesome hair’ I started to wonder if maybe under the layers of relaxer I did
too.
I did my first big chop in December 2008.
Then again in December 2009 and most recently January 1st 2016. On
that cliché “new year-new me” tip. Each BC was its own adventure. The first was
such a big deal, I hadn’t been natural in almost a decade and it was the start
of my experimentation season. Different hair, different outfits, throw in a few
piercings and I was your typical uni-chick trying to figure out who she was.
The second was a necessity; severe heat damage due to a love affair with hot ironing. This phase lasted the longest and I
guess this is when I first really learnt how to take care of my hair and how
big a deal having natural hair is sometimes. In a world that subliminally tells
you hair should be straight, your nose narrow and your skin light. Choosing to
be the opposite is kinda an achievement.
My third BC was just me itching for
something new and coming full circle. Hair is just hair. It goes back. So chill
out and do you boo. Rock that weave, get that perm and if it makes you happy
dye it suicide-squad-joker green. Don’t let these hair Nazis (is that PC?) kill your vibe.
Having said all that here is a picture of me giving you as much "poised and mature" as I can muster on any given day. FYI The squinty eyes were on purpose. I think they give a "come hither" look.
Don't you agree?
Me |
Luwi...