My Hair Story

When I think of my hair, there’s always the question of what if. What if I never relaxed it? What if my mom never got tired of plaiting it? What if I never cut it? What if it’s not even in it’s natural state? What if I never did that S-Curl hairstyle? What if I never used that green product? What if I plait consistently? What if I cut it again?

Where would my hair be? Which what if would be the better option? When I look at my hair sometimes, I almost hate it. I struggle letting it be in my sleep because once I wake up, I’ll simply look ridiculous. I struggle letting it be in the rain because if it’s not plaited and protected, it’s dignity will simply slip away.

It feels as though it cannot grow on its own. As though my arms and hands constantly have to be in some kind of war with it so it’s growth enhances its dignity. That it has to be tight, and my edges need to be done for it to have any kind of significance.

That it has to have this facade of pain existing in beauty and that same beauty existing in growth. That it can’t be see-through - the Afro must be thick and rich at all times because if not, I bear the shame of not having the elite black people’s hair type. I bear the shame of those with unfavoured hair, the shame of not taking care of it.

Plaiting it before bed is not enough. Unplaiting it when I wake up is not enough either. I must wash, moisturise, shampoo and even then is it not enough. I must pray my mother gave me the best hair genes and I must pray my hair is lucky enough to grow as fast as I expect it to. I must make sure I never damage my hairline. I must be sure to not plait as much and give it time to breathe but also I should plait it enough, so it grows in dignity.

I must adore wigs and weaves because that’s somehow the closest to normality. I must try these products and those products and do everything else in the world besides LETTING IT BE.

Sleeping and waking up in whatever state it wants to be in.

Walking, dancing in the rain and letting it feel nature’s touch.

Setting my arms and hands free from the forever lasting war.

Letting it’s state decide what beauty is.

Letting the Afro transform in and out of its richness based on what it feels - how it feels.

Letting it change, make mistakes, cry, scream, grieve, learn from mistakes, BREATHE.

Letting it be human.

Letting it’s natural state be the closest form of normality.

______________________________

Hi! Thank you for reading my personal piece ❤️ I thought the concept of humanising hair was weird at first but after writing this piece, I realised it’s the only way for me to have the healthiest relationship with my hair. 😌 Letting it be human✨

This was based off a concept I wrote for school. A Stage Play titled “Wool and A Sponge” that really looks at relationships people have with their hair.

When you have the time, do watch the video ❤️ The Literary Event that will be hosted at AFDA will consist of the stage reading of this play.

For more information on it, tap on the link below to watch the YouTube Video on it:

https://youtu.be/BFEoJ-2rUTI