Good Hair

It's strange for me to hear someone say, "Oh, she has good hair." Partly because of the movie "Crooklyn" when the little black girl whose ponytail sticks straight up in the air says it to a Puerto Rican girl whose long hair falls down to her butt. But partly because it's really sad to have the self-hatred so many black people have for themselves and their own culture shoved in my face.

For anyone who may not know, "good hair" in the African-American community is considered to be a more manageable, typically straighter, longer grade of hair. For lack of a better description, the closer a black persons hair is to a European's hair the better. So tight, "nappy", "kinky", even "Kunta" textured hair is considered bad hair. And yes, I've heard hair described in each of these ways. But why does it have to be any better to have less curl at the root of the hair? Because it's easier to care for or style? I can see that, but who ever said we had to do anything to our hair besides wash and moisturize it? Why use a hot comb to straighten it? For versatility maybe, but if that's the case we all have to use some degree of heat or chemical to obtain that versatility. "Good hair" or not.

See, since the big chop, I've enjoyed washing my hair more often, going to the gym and not worrying about my "new growth" sprouting up because my head sweats, and I sure love storing my heating elements in the bottom drawer in my bathroom. My hair doesn't have to be bone straight for me to be okay. It did take some time for me to get to this place, mentally, so I don't expect everyone to agree with me, but natural hair is far more versatile than anything you will get from a relaxer. As mine grows out I could straighten it for an occassion, twist it, or just wash and wear...show me a relaxed head of hair with options like those.

What women choose to do with their hair is solely up to them, I just hope the reasoning for their choices doesn't degrade who they are, who their parents are, or who their ancestors are. You don't have to be "Happy and Nappy" but if suddenly we couldn't get our hands on a relaxer, weave hair or any heating/straightening elements, what would you do and how would it affect how you feel about the woman in the mirror?

Growing old Gracefully

When I was 16 I found a long strand of gray hair in the middle of my head. You read it right, 16. Over time I might have found one along with that lone strand but nothing like I have in the past two years. I have so much scraggly gray shooting from my roots I am not sure there is enough hair color on earth to keep up with it.

Since having cut my hair I realize less coverage means more visibility...of GRAY! I'm all of 29 years, one month and one week and I have gray sprouting, and staying, all throughout my hair. Whoever said "Grow old gracefully" was probably already pretty old...grown I am, but old I am not and will not claim until mayyybe 80. Now I'm all for a woman, a mature woman, keeping herself up as she increases in years (wasn't that just so polite and PC?). You know, exercising, eating right, enjoying life...and allowing the wrinkles and breasts to fall where they may. I hate seeing an older woman who's had "work" done on her face or breasts, that just isn't cute at all. You're not 18, 25, or even 50, let time have its way with you. I plan to. But not yet.

Time has no right to take over my hair color the way it has. I color it and the next day there is a straggler who escaped or overpowered the strength of the hair dye. And they are always right in front along the edges of my now-curly 'do. What's more, I complained when the curlier gray would stand out against my chemically straightened hair because it was in fact curlier. Now I have curls in abundance and the gray isn't curly enough! Give me a break.

I don't know what it's going to take but I'm not ready to grow old gracefully. If I have this much gray at 29 what will I look like at 35? I'll tell you what I'll look like, that hottie on the front of the Dark & Lovely color number 373 - Brown Sable. Growing old is for 80 year olds, I've got a few years to look fresh, young, spry...even if those words apply solely to my hair.

He Loves Me, but He Hates It

Well there I was all freshly coiffed and every time my darling hubby, Babe, looked at me he was visibly distressed by what he saw...or didn't see. He has this special "look" he reserves for sheer disgust and that was the "look" he shot my way whenever I crossed his path.

I loved my new 'do, but I was still adjusting to the beautiful but different Natalie. So his response to my look hurt. Sure he'd adjust, and in fact he has, but the first days after my "big chop" left him almost speechless.

Being adored by Babe has always been one of my favorite aspects of our relationship, but the Natalie he preferred looking at was no more. We met when I was 18 and I had, of course, that long flowing hair that was a big part of his attraction. Not that big, but big. Heck I'm a hottie all by myself, but I am fully aware that some men love long hair and he's no exception. But his blatant dislike of my little 'fro was hard on a girl. I don't care how confident you are (I do okay) if your man suddenly thinks, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE??!" it's tough. He was that guy who tells his woman who's gained weight after having babies, or just gained weight over time, that she needs to get her big butt to the gym. That was not my Babe and it made me sad.

I was sad but I didn't regret my decision because it was mine and mine alone and I didn't do it for him. I didn't do it to disgust him either, but I did do it solely for NATALIE.

Later, about 48 hours post chop, he went from detesting it to attempting to help me make "it" better.

"Maybe you could twist it and let it loose so it'll be curlier?" He asked. I must admit day one was very 'froish which wasn't my favorite look, so I have to cut the guy some (just a little) slack.

"I'll try different things but I just got it cut so I have to figure it out."

"You look like you smoke weed, listen to Erykah Badu and burn incense," he joked. And I did. Or do (have that look I mean). "You've got that Afrocentric vibe now. Angela Davis. Black Panther, Power to the People. That's the look."

And or DUH, it was a little afro, why wouldn't I remind him of such? But deep inside I felt wonderful to be compared to that time, to those people. I loved it. I felt gorgeous, I felt free.

Having Babe go through the earliest stage of his adjustment was really hard on me, especially when I was still working on truly loving it myself. Sure I liked it, but when people you know glance at you like "whoa" and pretend that layer of wooly hair isn't really there it can make you second-guess yourself a little. But once you've made up YOUR mind that this is what you want, it gets easier. The initial shock is rough though.

Babe likes it now, at least he doesn't look like he wants to cuss when he sees me, and I'm far more confident than I was on day one and two...and it's only been about a week! If nothing else I am more confident in my own skin, feel sexier and carry myself as such. What man can resist that? I don't care if you're bald, no man can deny the beauty of a strong black woman who walks with the pride of the kings and queens she calls her ancestors. I've turned over a new leaf and all it took was a pair of scissors.

All-Natural: Finally

As of November 17, I am no longer the girl my family and friends know with the long, chemically relaxed locks that have adorned my face since I was at least two years old. Over time I may have gone with a chin-length bob and twice even shorter but this is the first time I have ever seen my hair at 2 maybe 3 inches in length. To top it off it's curly so most of that length is coiled atop my head.

In mid-August I decided to do away with relaxers for good. I was tired of being on my hair's timetable of every 8 weeks having to have my new inch or so of growth straightened to match the length that fell past my shoulders. I was sick of doing one of two styles: ponytail or flat-ironed, and after losing 50 pounds (over time) and being relieved of the gray cloud of depression I was ready for something new.

My plan was to work with my new growth and hang on to my relaxed length until March or May. Whenever I felt the most brave. Come November my new growth seemed to have a growth spurt making it virtually impossible to manage the two textures.

"Dear God, when it's time for me to cut it, please make it okay with me and for me. Amen." I prayed one Saturday morning. That same day I felt a wave of peace flow over me and I immediately called my mom, aka "my stylist", to have her get ready for my big chop. I was excited, anxious, nervous, thrilled all at the same time.

Some days I was more nervous, others more thrilled, but when I had to set aside 30 minutes to work with my hair before I could leave the house I knew it was time. I don't spend more than 30 minutes getting ready period, let alone 30 minutes on my top piece!

That Saturday came and I woke early to make the trek to my mom's house and salon where I'd watch several inches of my hair fall to the floor. I expected to leave a puddle of tears along with that hair, instead I felt relief....joy....freedom.

"I don't know why any black woman wants natural hair," my mom said.

But what the chemically altered hair covered was a head full of beautiful, soft curls. I couldn't believe what I saw...I loved it!

"Wow look at how it curls up!" mom said sliding a coil between her fingers and watching it spring back. "It's so pretty!"

I didn't know what would work for my new 'do (I'm still working that part out) but I was willing to figure it out. It was me under all of that relaxed hair. Me, untainted, curly, beautiful. Me, naturally.