My bestie and me with my Afro Puffs
I dreaded the sessions of torture from my mother. The hard plastic comb and blue hair grease, the pulling of my hair as she tried to part and comb my hair. The crying as my mom pulled my hair. Depending on what day of the week, I could have several plaits in my hair or two nice, full afro puffs. These sessions would stay stuck in my head for years to come. When I became pregnant with my daughter, I dreaded the thought of having to do her hair and torture her with the same painful ‘tradition’.
When I was about eight years old, my mom did a ‘kiddie perm’. I remember tears and screams of pain for the new ‘manageability’ of my hair. I will never forget how excited I was when my hair was done, going outside to ride my bike with my friends and my hair blowing in the wind. I felt like a new child. I felt like the other girls in the neighborhood and school that always had their hair blowing everywhere.
It didn’t last long. My mom didn’t think little girls should have their hair out. So my plaits came back after the weekend. The other kids would pull my hair in class and tug at it on the playground. My mother would be furious if I got dirt in it as it would then require an unscheduled wash session. While it was easier to comb, I don’t think either of us liked the ‘kiddie perm’ process.
By the time I entered middle school, my parents were divorced and I chose to live with my father. With this came the responsibility of doing my hair. My dad definitely didn’t know anything about hair so he usually sent me to the hair dresser. My hair was pressed about once a month. I remember staying with my sleepovers at my Caucasian girlfriend’s houses, they always asked why I didn’t was my hair in the shower. It was annoying trying to figure out what to say. Trying to tell them that water was not my friend.
My beautician, as they were called back then, was ‘Mrs. F’ and boy oh boy, she would burn my head up! She loved to talk while she worked and told me I moved too much. She never thought I was moving because of the HEAT on my head. She didn’t recognize the sizzle of my head as a problem to keeping still. She was so nice but didn’t realize the pain my father paid her to inflict on me on a monthly basis. I remember my pink foam rollers, and rolling my hair at night. Sleepovers with my Girl Scout troop were not so much fun, having to roll my hair while everyone else just went to bed.
Then with my Caucasian friends, they influenced me to beg my father for a curling iron. “It’s easier than those rolls you use.” And of course, what did my father know, I asked he bought. What a delight, I thought. I could go to sleep without anything on my head like my friends. It was a mess. My ears or forehead always hade scabs from me burning myself! It was bad enough my father paid someone to do this, now I was voluntarily doing it to myself.
Halloween - Curling iron hair! Ugh!
By my freshman year of high school, my father had found a new hair stylist for me. He was new and from California. He immediately turned me on to relaxers. I was hooked. I could now do almost everything my friends could and life was grand! I cut my hair like Salt-n-Pepa and thought I was the bomb! I was envied by these white friends as my hair could do so much more than their straight tresses. Even though my hair was considered versatile, I didn’t do much to it. I went to my hair ‘stylist’ every two weeks and got a style.
When I went to college in New Orleans, I started doing my own perms; at first no one had money to get their hair done. So one day I went to Walgreens and bought my first box perm. I would regularly over process my hair, as well as the hair of my dorm mates. Soon this became a side hustle along with doing ‘acrylic nails’, typing papers and shuttling folks to the airport. While my pockets stayed fat I really had no idea what I was doing. Every now and then I would use that money actually go to the hair salon. Usually in a rake style (that’s what we called it in N.O.), short in the front, combed with a rake comb and long in the back.
My sophomore year I wanted a change and cut all my hair off like Jada Pinkett at the end of Set It Off. It was fly and liberating! Everyone on campus was shocked as my hair was shoulder length and many of the girls were dying for long hair. My boyfriend at the time was horrified. I could now use his boar hair brush it keep my waves and he hated it.
My philosophy always has been it will grow back! I then began with my ‘power to the people’ movement. I got braids and wore every Malcolm X shirt I could find. I frequented the Reggae clubs and loved the wild styles I wore. I loved being different than the norm. Very few people on campus wore braids.
Then when I got a full-time job I wore my hair in a wrap. I had a great stylist that charge $25 for a wash and wrap. I couldn’t beat that and got my hair done every week, like clockwork. It was easy. Wrap at night and unwrap in the morning.
A few years later when I had my daughter and moved to DC the prices were too high for me to get my hair done on a regular, being a single parent. Every year, year after year, I continued with the ‘white crack’. Occasionally, I would braid my hair ‘to give it a break’. I loved not having to do something to my hair. Even more, I loved how strong my hair and how much my hair would grow. It wasn’t considered too wild as I usually wore my braids in a bun at work and would only take them down when I left.
Hair in braids - transitioning
When I did find a stylist that was too expensive and near my house, I continued to get my hair done. By this point, my daughter now needed styles that didn’t include braids or barrettes. Paying for one head on a regular basis was a stretch, now I had to pay for two. I didn’t want my daughter to get a perm. I was dead set against it. So my stylist simply flat ironed it. Her hair continued to grow and was beautiful and so was mine. However, I could not continue to go on a regular basis.
To extend my visits to my hair dresser, I flat-ironed my hair to be halfway decent. I had hair everywhere but to the outside world it looked healthy. I got married and continued my routine. If I went too long my husband would ask, “When you gonna get your hair done?” A few years after we got married, we bought a house. I loved my larger bathroom but my husband continued to fuss about my hair falling all over the place. Two years ago, I decided I couldn’t take it. I didn’t want another relaxer. I was trying to change habits in my life to live healthier. Ten years earlier a friend of mine had stop relaxing her hair because of the chemicals. At that time I told her she was crazy and I would NEVER stop relaxing, yet here I was looking for anything else to do without relaxing my hair.
It was crazy! I began searching the Internet for ways to straighten my hair without relaxing it. I came across Diva Smooth. While it required me to use heat (flat-iron) to initially straighten my hair, it was better than the smell of the creamy crack! I loved it! My hair came out so nice and no chemicals! Everyone at work complimented on how nice my hair was at how they were surprised I didn’t relax it anymore. I thought I had found my answer. For almost a year, I continued this process.
Hair using Diva Smooth
Then, I went to see my mother in New Orleans, my hair blew up like a big, black cotton ball and I had no idea what to do with it! I called Dee and we had a chuckle about the humidity of the Deep South! She made me feel so much better because I was getting ready to go get the creamy crack and be done with it. Never mind the fact of my aunt keep asking me, “Uh, Kee, what ya gonna do? You need some help? That’s a lot of hair baby….”
I love my aunt but I wanted to scream! I got out my flat iron and went to work. My family was in shock at how straight I got it but the moment I stepped outside my 2 hours of work went out the window. I told my mom just to stop at a store. I ran in and found a nice scarf and wrapped my head. Unfortunately I was home for the passing of my stepfather and I could not wear this scarf to the funeral and I knew of few options with my new ‘untamed and non-straight’ hair. I just did a French roll with a lot of gel.
After this fiasco, I was determined to wear my hair curly. I couldn’t take straightening it and wondering if the weather was gonna work with it. I realized that I was still trying to make my hair be something it wasn’t. When I got home, I spent 2 days straight on the internet researching natural hair and how to style it. I was mesmerized by the women that I saw. They were confident and rocking fly, fly hair! I was hooked. I found Curly Nikki and it was like finding gold!
I told my family that I was going to stop straightening my hair and my husband and daughter were both supportive. But I was not yet confident with what I was gonna do for work. For the first few months I would flat-twist the front and flexi-rod the back. I gradually started to do twist-outs. The looks from some of my co-workers was interesting to say the least.
Since I began my curly phase, my daughter, cousin and godmother have all transitioned to natural! It has been a blessing to help them and encourage them on their journeys! My daughter’s hair is gorgeous, as she just recently cut off her relaxed ends.
I’m now so much more confident with my hair! Last weekend I actually wore a huge ‘fro to my goddaughter’s birthday and received many compliments. I am finally loving my hair and proud of it!
