Release the Cracken!

Hair, is one of the major concerns in the day of a woman. To be a picture perfect example of the “modern” woman spend a lot of time on their hair. They force their hair to be something that it really is. Hot irons, dying, brushing, and tons of products applied to the locks. I for one am guilty of mistreatment of my hair.

As you can see, my hair is not like the hair of the “Native American” pictures. There is not one straight piece of hair on the top of this head. In fact, once my hair dries, I can challenge Tina Turner to a big hair competition. It is completely epic.

The other morning, my son needed a ride and asked me to come and get me. This took quite a chunk of time from my morning schedule so I tossed my unkept hair up in a scrunching and drove off. In the midst of the morning, we paused to talk in my work parking lot. I began to ready for the battle of taming of the silvery squishy locks.

My son had never seen my natural hair all his life. I have always kept it restrained in forced submission in straightened form. He turned to me and with an expression that said it all. Wide eyes, he said, “You just released the Cracken.” With a flip of the mirror cover revealed the tendrils of the Cracken emerge from all sides of my head. Medusa would have been impressed and Beatrix Lastrange would have been jelous of the wickedness emerging from the lopping locks. He turned from me with a shake of his head saying, “I am glad you have this under control.”

The truth of hair does not include the word control. Restrain is the best way to put the daily battle that happens. In my picture above, you see about five years of growth. Before that time I would subject myself to straighteners. Hours and hours sitting in a chair promised to make every morning easier. However, the last procedure I had was a disaster. Matter of fact, my hair took revenge on me. It was proven that I couldn’t control the results of my vain attempt to control my lovely locks.

At the time I was in the process of obtaining another degree. I was staying with a friend and stress was high. Like many mornings, I would jump into the shower and wash my hair. Clumps of black and grey threads of hair wrapped themselves around my fingers. Panic set in as I held not one hand full of hair but four. Locks and locks of hair was breaking off near the scalp. I rushed to the mirror and the evidence was clear, the breakage was extensive and I had a presentation to make in less then 3 hours. I began to scramble for a way to cover up this disaster.

Thank heavens that there was plenty of hair to help cover the areas of distress. My hair style changed that day and stayed that way for many years. Twist the tendrils and clip them in place to cover a clump of shorten hair beneath. The day passed without an issue but the nightmare grew over the following weeks.

The rate that hair grows is painfully long. All I could do was manage the damage and try to nourish the strains that remain. Month by month I was able to cover up the damage and make myself presentable. Years later, I decided to accept that the Cracken will be a part of my life so I have to accept my hair just as it is. No straighteners, no hot irons, nothing touches my hair that may cause damage. I will accept that I have a full head of fluff and long curls blowing in the wind like wild whips against my face.

Well Native sisters, I have extremely curly hair. I am proud of who I have become as the Cracken and I have learned to live with each other. I accepted that I do not have the blessing of straight hair. That makes me unique and I am okay with that. I will not let anyone tell me that I am not Native because I do not fit the mold of the “traditional” Native Woman. Sisters, I am a strong woman for I battle the Cracken every morning over a cup of coffee. My day starts off strong and accepting.

I can’t say it is a battle anymore for I have learned to love the beast. As I marvel at the ringlet that wraps around my fingers I have come to accept that the creator wanted me this way. I am proud that I am a Chingwa and my ”Chingwa hair” is a part of me. I love the ringlets that form and cling together. My “big hair” is hardly ever down but I love the moments where the Cracken can run free. The Cracken is one happy beast living its life with me.

There is one thing that I do not look forward to. My old age. The time when one must depend on others for help. I fear my children will give up on the beast and just let them deteriorate into dreadlocks. The curls are wicked enough to cling together to make dreds. The photo above is when my hair is wet. If the Cracken would just stay this way through the day, I would be happy. However, as it dries, it grows and grows. The daily task is daughting at times. All I can do is hope that my children will take the care I do and treat the Cracken as well as I do now. I guess only time will tell on that issue but due to my son’s response, the task will be daughting. I guess it will be my job to teach them how to love the Cracken like I do. That should be another worry off my plate in the days to come.