My Journey:
from natural, to relaxed, to straightened, to natural
Childhood
As a child, I wore my natural hair long. My mother cared for it, keeping it healthy with near-constant protective styles--usually four or six plaits. These are some of the only pictures of me with my hair out, because it was only allowed on wash day and on special occasions! But through protecting my hair and keeping up a solid regimen, Mum gave me lovely hair. Relaxer
Of course, in my teen years, I just had to mess it up! Okay, to be fair, it wasn't 100% my fault. In Secondary School, I was the only black girl in my class and everyone was baffled by my natural hair. I'd get called all the usual creative names (Sheep, Bush Head, Poodle), asked all the irritating questions we know and love: "What's wrong with your hair? Why is it so frizzy/crazy/weird? How did it get like that?" Eventually I decided I couldn't be bothered with the hassle; I begged for a relaxer, and I got it. At first, I was ecstatic--I was beautiful! But eventually, my hair became lank, dry, and... well, kinda gross. Soooo, bye bye relaxer! Post-Relaxer
Back in the day, my bedroom floor was disgusting. I had to hoover every day--if I didn't, my mum would know. She only had to walk in and check out the strands of my broken hair lying all over the floor. My long hair had broken to shoulder-length, though I didn't realise. I couldn't remember cutting it, but decided I must have--I'm ditzy enough to get a hair cut and forget all about it months later! Eventually, though, I decided to stop relaxing--but my once-gorgeous hair was an odd mish-mash of lengths, textures and thicknesses. So, after a few months of strange looks, I managed to get hold of some GHD hair straighteners and spent the next four years merrily frying my hair. At least it started growing again! ...right? |
Hair on Self-Destruction Mode
After a few years, my hair was back to square one. It was a complete mess, constantly frizzy, dry and broken. Living in merry old England, the near-constant rain had me blow-drying and re-straightening every day, if not more. Eventually, my 18th birthday was coming up and I knew my hair was a mess--so I got rid of it. I shaved an undercut on one side. Then on the other. Then, I chopped it off to my chin. Everyone complimented me on my bravery, but really, I just wanted to get rid of as much hair as possible. At this point I honestly hated my hair. I felt like it was the enemy, and I lost my (pretty short) temper with it. I was like... Byeeeeee! Finally... NATURAL!In September 2014, when I was 18, I started university. While I was still living at home in my small, predominantly white town, my university campus was full of people of all ethnicities. I saw more black girls in my first week than I had in my whole life--and I Loved. Their. Hair. I wanted it. I had it--or at least I should have! I stopped straightening my hair in the hopes that it would curl again, but it just didn't work. In frustration, I turned to Google, and a little research told me that I had heat damage. It's weird, how I spent two years in science class learning that hair = protein and heat + protein = cooked, but until someone on the internet spelled things out for me v e e r r r y slowly, it never clicked that I was the reason my hair was messed up! I thought that by banishing relaxers I'd done my hair a favour, but I never realised that straightening my hair constantly would be just as bad.
After my new discovery, I lost my temper (again. You may be sensing a pattern here) and when I got home, I looked in the mirror and thought, "For goodness sake, girl, don't be a wimp!" I 'borrowed' my mother's hair scissors in the middle of the night and hacked off every straight strand over the bathroom sink. As you may be able to tell from my natural hair selfies, I am finally happy with my hair (I love selfies by the way. To be honest I'm the one who invented the selfie in '07, and don't let anybody tell you different!). I look in the mirror and finally, nothing looks out of place. For so long, I had an image in my head of a version of me with glossy, straight hair, yet my reflection in the mirror showed me nothing but split ends and frizz. Now, the image in my head shows me healthy, springy curls--and my reflection does the same.
After my impromptu hair cut, I also started turning to Google for more hair advice, and that's how I found the natural hair community online. I was beyond shocked when I realised that hair products weren't limited to the three 'curl activating gels' they used to sell in the back of the local 'ethnic' market. All of a sudden, there were product ranges for me, magazines for me, websites for me, and girls who looked just like me and had stories just like mine telling me exactly what my hair needed. Going natural is, truthfully, one of the best decisions I've ever made. If you found even the slightest similarities in my story to yours, please: stick around. Check out what I, and other naturals, have to say. You might just end up happier with your hair than you ever thought you could be. |