As an African American woman, there are trillions of ways I can style my hair. I can perm it, I can weave it, dye it, braid it, twist it, shave it all off, or rock a version of a high top fade and sill be fashionable, the list is endless. For many women like myself, this is a great thing, but there are also some very harsh critics that find the transitions of African American hair quite frightening.
Deep down inside, I want to claim my hair does not define me, but to society I know this is not true. Society feels as though they can tell exactly who you are by looking at your hairstyle. If you are an African American woman who chooses to wear her hair in an afro or in its natural state, one may label you as afro- centric even though this may not be the case. An African American woman who opts to wear her hair permed is considered more polished or modern. And the African American woman who chooses to wear her hair in extensions or weaves may be called fake.
My hair journey, similar to many African American women, is a unique one. I have worn my hair probably in every style imaginable. Through many years of many hairstyles I have learned a great deal about hair care, I have even learned how hair can affect one’s self esteem.
My hair journey like all of ours, starts with my hair in is natural state. I can remember pictures when I was young with pig tales with colorful barretts but I mostly wore my hair in some sort of style with braids. When I was six years old, my mom took me to the Dominican shop across the street from my grandmother’s house to get a perm. It’s no surprise my hair began to fall out as six years old is way too young for anyone to chemically alter their hair.
Growing my hair back was not as much of a challenge as trying to repair damaged hair can be. I wore my hair in cornrows with beads on the ends. I enjoyed this phase of my hair journey because I often got compared to the William’s sisters and who wouldn’t want to be compared to tennis royalty?
In fifth grade, at the age of ten, I permed my hair again, this time I opted for a no lye child relaxer. The results were much better this time as I knew how to better take care of my hair. I kept my hair permed for eight years after this; wearing a combination of braids, cornrows, weaves, wash and sets, I even opted to cut my hair similar to Rihanna during this time.
In 2009, right before my freshman year of college, I decided to dye my hair a certain shade of brownish orange. Unfortunately, this color change came two weeks before I was scheduled for my next touch up (or perm). My hair broke off once again. I couldn’t possibly enter college with damaged hair, so I was forced to begin cutting off the processed ends and wearing full head weaves because in my eyes my own hair was not good enough to be seen in public.
At the beginning of 2010, I got fed up with having to rely on weaves and I shaved it all off. This was a drastic change, not just because I had hair my whole life and now I didn’t, but I now had to accept me for me. I could no longer hide behind the persona of my different hairstyles, there was just me.
I enjoyed this feeling of just me. No one could judge me based on how I decided to wear my hair. Of course there were many questions from men in particular wanting to know why I would do such a thing because in their eyes women were supposed to have hair. I also received many compliments. I not only got compliments for looking good with a caesar cut, but I got compliments on my confidence. Being bald has taught me my hair does not define me, that I was beautiful without the mask of a long flowing weave or chemically straightened hair.
After a year of wearing the caesar cut, I decided to grow my hair out naturally, no chemicals. Within two years I had a full head of healthy growing hair. As a “natural woman”, I am very proud. I am proud because I can wear my hair just the way it grows out of my head and still look and feel beautiful.
Today, I am a “natural woman” who embraces all the ways I am privileged to wear my hair. I wear my hair in is natural state, I wear my hair in “poetic justice” braids, I will even wear weaves, but none of this defines me. All of the ways I choose to wear my hair is a form of self-expression that is simply a part of me. Each and every woman is way more complex than just the strands on her head; take a look into her roots and there you will find her story.