It's Just Hair

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 1^st 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...