My hair journey has been a deeply synchronous experience, one that has mirrored the evolution of my identity and self-acceptance throughout the years. Each phase of my relationship with my hair reflects not only changes in style but also shifts in how I perceive myself and my place in the world.
In my earliest years, my hair was lovingly cared for by my mother. Back then, information about 4C curls was scarce, and the cultural understanding of natural Black hair was limited. My hair was often pulled and combed dry. Thick, tough, and difficult to manage. Eventually, I was given single braids with the ends left out, because that was simply easier for everyone involved. My mom did an amazing job managing my hair with the resources and knowledge she had, but the message I absorbed was clear: my hair was “too much” to handle, so it needed to be tamed. This early experience was more than just about hair care. It was the beginning of a pattern I would unknowingly repeat in life. I was learning to acquiesce, to people-please, to tame my inner voice in favor of tuning into the needs and comforts of others.
Fast forward to my traveling days abroad, living in Australia and India, and my hair journey took a new turn. I entered what I fondly call my “wig phase.” For a Black girl on the move, constantly navigating new cultures and environments, there simply wasn’t time to figure out my natural hair. Wigs became my armor and my disguise. I covered my hair and hid behind what I knew would be a palatable, socially acceptable version of myself. Wearing wigs made it easy to make friends, to blend in, to be “easy on the eyes.” I molded myself into a version that was digestible and welcoming to everyone around me. I made sure I fit in, that I was accepted. During this time, I met a boy who liked that version of me, and for a long time, I lived as her.
But now, I stand firmly as a full-blown naturalista, embracing every coil, kink, and curl. I am actively debunking every myth that suggested I do not have “good hair.” My hair grows long, it retains length, and yes, it shrinks, but every nuance is perfect to me. There are moments when I get emotional just admiring the coils that crown my head. I cherish every protective style and every take down, knowing they each tell part of my story. My journey has also been enriched by my husband, who celebrates my hair wins alongside me, reinforcing my pride and joy in my natural self. This season feels like the best yet, one of full authenticity, self-love, and confidence.
I would be remiss not to shout out my big sister, my hair buddy. She has shared countless tips and tricks, but more importantly, she gave me the space to discover what truly works for my hair. Her support has been instrumental in this journey of self-discovery and acceptance.
My hair journey is more than just about hair. It is a reflection of my growth, my struggles, and my triumphs. It is a living metaphor for how I have learned to honor myself, to embrace my natural beauty, and to live unapologetically as who I am.
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