My hair has magical powers. It has the ability to stretch, shrink, coil up, bounce around, and mold itself to objects around it. Whether it’s a 5-day old twist out that reaches toward the sky after I unwrap it from a pineapple, or it’s conditioned and braided up under one of my favorite wigs, it’s my beautiful hair. It has taken me so long to realize this.
After altering my texture and changing the chemical balance to one that isn’t natural, I realized my hair is wonderful. After allowing multiple sores from a hot relaxer burn and damage my scalp, I realized my kinky hair is amazing in all its glory. My hair used to represent the psychological trauma engrained in not only myself, but my mother, my grandmother and previous generations.
Now my hair represents the power I have to change, to adapt, to be completely synced with the natural world around me. My hair is so much more than hair. It’s me.