In the few days I've been back home, I've already been receiving several
mixed reviews about my natural hair. I'm so used to rocking it at school, I
forget that people I grew up around haven't been there to witness my growth and
transformation, especially the self-love I developed by wearing it naturally.
Some love it and some quietly ask when I'm going to "do something to my
hair," never mind the work and time it takes to twist and bantu-knot my
hair, in order to unravel them each morning with a defined curl. At these, I'm
learning to be patient and avoid easy frustration. One would think that the
African community, especially women--especially Christians, would have a deeper
appreciation for natural kinks and the confidence it takes to rock them, the
way God designed them. Surprisingly, most of the ones that have helped rear me
don't seem to have this perspective.
I could go on and on about black
women and the political discourse that has become our follicles, and in fact I
probably will with later posts. However one thing that I must say is that although
I am not defined by my choice of hairstyle, the journey I have gone through
(and honestly still exploring) to get the confidence to wear my hair naturally
has been redefining for me. Realizing I don't need extensions to see myself has
been liberating. In fact, I was recently at a beauty supply in my hometown to
find a weave that would be "appropriate" for my upcoming corporate
internship. I walked into the store with a 'fro
with curls defined by a fresh twist-out that I felt excited to debut. (Note:
in my suburb of Atlanta, weaves are ubiquitous and so normally a part of the
culture, I feel like a fish out of water.) In the beauty store amidst a sea of
synthetic tresses, I felt like a contradiction. At the thought of finding some
to attach to my own head, I surprised myself at the level of dissonance I was
feeling.
I'd long imagined that I'd still wear weaves, even as a
natural-haired woman. I consider it a protective style like the twists and
braids I have no problem wearing, so I typically don't think much of it when I
tell my friends (a lot of whom are not black or African) that I'll still
probably wear a weave as a hairstyle at some point in my future. However,
standing in that store, I couldn't fathom being okay wearing hair that didn't
in some way remind me of how much God has grown me in inner beauty. Instead, I
felt like I would be hiding something in fear of rejection…like I was doubting
God's promise to never forsake me.
At that point, I'd been texting two of my best friends and
one encouraged me to simply get twists, which I'd earlier considered. With
that--I had peace. I knew that being back home in humid Georgia would leave me
too irritable to dealing with my hair everyday like I do at school in Los
Angeles, so I had already made the decision to wear my hair in a protective
style for the summer to make life easier. However, when face to face with a
hair mannequin with Remy tresses in
color 1B, I quickly realized that a weave felt like I was trying to be someone
else. Working up the courage to wear my
natural hair straightened was a development, then blown-out, and even my
current state, forgoing straightening/ stretching my hair after washing it.
Each of these took crazy amounts of confidence and divine reassurance that I am
fearfully and wonderfully made. And even though the challenge of choosing
hairstyles was external, the true battle was and is being fought deep inside me,
unmasking the many lies that had been keeping me from experiencing true inner
beauty worthy of a Proverbs 31 woman.
Even now, I'd hate to make a definitive statement that I'm
done with weaves forever, because I honestly don't know. What I do know is that
I've come too far and still have complexities to work out before I can put one
on again. The work that God is doing in me in response to how I thought I had
to look in order to be beautiful is crazy and literally life-changing, and I
don't want it to stop short. I'm learning how my beauty is first and foremost
for an audience of one: my Savior, and
He's the only one I have to please, as well as the only one who can truly
comprehend what it means for me to be beautiful; after all, He made me in His
image!
Yes, I'm writing this post as a cathartic response to the first-full day I intentionally chose to wear natural hair to formal events in my hometown, amongst the close-knit and opinionated community of Nigerians I grew up with. Still, it's also a reminder for me to remember that I truly am not my hair, so I don't have to try to meet cultural standards by changing my hairstyle so I feel un-judged in my environment. I have God-given freedom to choose whatever I think is beautiful for me, knowing that my true beauty comes from Him . Right now, it's a halo of kinky curls also known as an afro. In a few days, I'm hoping to try out the Senegalese twist trend that I've been eyeing for quite some time. In a few months, I might even color my hair--or cut it--or both! Embracing this freedom of personal style is just another way of choosing to become the woman I was created to be, regardless of what whoever else thinks of it.
