My Hair is NOT a movement!

I know it may go against conventional wisdom, but I must confess, my hair isn’t a movement.  The last time I relaxed my hair was in February 2012.  The reasons I haven’t relaxed it since then didn’t officially turn into “Im going natural” until about 2 months ago.  Until then, I was just over my hair as it was and searching for a new style.  In the meantime, I rocked a curly weave, which was pretty darn fun.  The moment I took that out and looked at my hair in this middle stage, half curly and thick and half straight and broken (what I believe was a good symbolism of how I felt about myself at the moment), I knew what I wanted to do next.  So a few weeks post surgery, I headed to the salon and asked my trusty stylist to clip off a large amount of the relaxed hair, declaring to her “I am going natural.”  This would only be considered a real big deal if I had not done the same thing to my same stylist 8 years ago in 2004 when I was too done with the long but thin hair that extended from my scalp.  You see, while it appears extremely popular now for black women to go natural, back 8 years ago, it really wasn’t.  It was trying to be, but it really wasn’t, particularly in New York City.  At the time, I lived in Philly.  And for once (no shade, I love Philly) that City was ahead of the times on something - the natural hair movement.  Yet and still, having natural hair was still a process that was expensive and salons in Philly were very exclusive.  It was a club still protected by those who only felt certain women belonged in it and if you didn’t want to make a political statement with your hair, you weren’t welcomed into the movement.  That saddened me, because I wasn’t trying to make a statement.  I was trying to not have hair so thin it blew away in the wind.  And that is what the relaxer does to me! 

Now here we are 8 years later and I am working through the process of transitioning my hair back to its natural state again.  I am rocking two-strand twists that are pretty fun.  Most of my hair along the back and sides are relaxer free.  The top is still in need of some more chopping to be totally natural.  It is indeed a transition.  It feels great when I wash my own hair and see how soft it feels in its natural state.  To see its color and texture is amazing.  I’ve never had a perception that my hair was hard or bad in its natural state.  I rocked braids courtesy of my sister much longer than my peers.  It was fine for me.  I had been completely natural before.  It was fine for me.  And rocking my two strand twist now is empowering for me now simply because it is just me.  While I am clear this isn’t a social movement, it is a journey for me.  I feel like myself.  That could be for a number of reasons, which are unrelated to my hair.  But I know when I see my hair now, I like what I see and what I feel.  I like not being as worried about the weather (although humidity isn’t the friend of natural hair either) or worried about sitting in the salon for hours and enduring the pain of the process.  There is no pain in my process now (although there is agony over sitting still for and hour and half under the dryer on my couch).  I feel pretty when I look in the mirror with the hair on my head as it grows out my head.  That’s major in the sense of personal revelations.  It doesn’t mean I didn’t feel pretty other ways.  It means that when I am stripped down to the very original version of myself, I feel pretty.  And that digs down underneath all that I can opt to put on.  It gets to the place where no matter what I add to enhance my beauty, there is nothing that can be taken away from my look to make me feel less pretty.  I don’t need to rely on certain hair or make up.  I can see myself as myself and see my own beauty and love it.  That makes me far more confident when I step out into the world that isn’t always kind to women, especially women of color.

With this new hairstyle there comes a perception from other women - this idea that I look down upon those who choose to relax their hair.  This idea that I believe somehow they are less confident, striking, bold, empowered women because they choose to wear their hair straight.  That couldn’t be further from the truth.  For those traits don’t come from a hairstyle.  They come from the spirit.  My hair being natural carries no greater implication of confidence than my straight hair implied a lack of it.   So in no way do I think anything about woman who have straight hair.  I so reject that notion that I needed to write this blog to put that out into the atmosphere for anyone who may be walking around carrying that thought.  

This new hairstyle also comes with new interactions with men.  Black men have a vast array of opinions of beauty.  There is no one standard for most of them (except maybe a big booty, lol).  When you talk to most men, they don’t care about your hair one way or the next, they just want it to look good (whatever that means to them).  They want to see your beauty (whatever that means to them).  And they like what they like whenever they see it – the end.  I’ve known a man through many hair phases over the last 9 years.  He will never say it, but can tell you right now which of my hairstyles he enjoys the most.  Yet I have had other styles and witnessed him nuzzled up in my hair breathing it in just because he was seduced by the scent of freshly shampooed hair.  And by the way, his favorite style hasn’t appeared in many years, so I am positive the other styles haven’t run him off! 

So in my transition I am so clear that this isn’t a movement.  Anyone who knows me really knows that I pump my fists and carry some of the most militant views about things whether I have natural hair or an 18 inch weave down my butt!  My father instilled that in me, it lives in me and isn’t determined by something as fluid as a hair choice.  No matter how much anyone will try, I wont allow my hair choice to be considered a social movement to advance the cause of Black women.  Our cause is far greater, far deeper, far more challenging than anything my hair choice can remedy.  I recognize my power isn’t in my hair choice, it is in my voice and the voice of all women of color to fight the never ending fight. 

I watched my mother battle cancer.  At one point, she lost all her hair.  I don’t exaggerate when I say she lost ALL her hair!  When that happened, she wasn’t as sick as she eventually became.  I remember peeking over at her while she was laughing at something and thinking just how pretty she was, shinny bald head and all.  Her smile was radiating and her eyes were bright.  She was oozing with optimism and joy.  She was laughing at something even though she had cancer, even though she was bald, even though she was dying.  Her hair was the least of her worries.  And when asked about her hair, she said even then, “Maliek it is just hair – its not a big deal, it will grow back.”  As with most things, she was so right.  It is just hair and it is not a big deal.