More Fluid Thoughts on Hair in Black Culture and Femininity

Many cultures attribute long hair, small features, and even a demure personality as traits meant to express feminine beauty. This is especially true in Western culture. But, what happens when you don’t fit any of the criteria? I’ve spent the majority of my life looking for ways to “fit the criteria” or finally become a match. I believed that once I did fit in with everybody else, then I would finally achieve happiness. When it came to my hair, my behavior was no different. I took to mentally flogging myself each day as I treated my short hair like an unwanted condition. I was not to be seen without a weave or braids or some form of hair extensions. It was the confidence I lacked; the joy I sought. Hair was my precious diamond worth more to me than my reputation. I would think that even if people disliked me, they wouldn’t be able to say that they hated my hair. I remember the grueling process of sitting in between my mother’s legs on a bed of pillows as she braided, twisted, combed, relaxed, pulled and permed my hair. The chemical burns from the relaxer being left on too long would leave my skin patchy and filled with pus as my skin attempted to heal itself. But, no matter how much pain was inflicted upon me, I accepted it as a way of life. Until, one day, I didn’t. That day in the bathroom when I heard my own voice inside of me, time stopped. I’m not one for clichés, but not only did I see the light, I felt it: the freedom I’d been searching for my whole life; the freedom to just exist as I am. It was the first step and conscious effort I took in the journey of self. Each and everyday, I am glad I did. No more being concerned about what others thought. No more holding myself to the standard of insecure people who were just as lost and tormented as I was. From that moment, I loved myself.