I was seven years old when I got my first relaxer. There’s a photo somewhere, of me at the salon, post-process. Smiling, with two big shiny ponytails. What the picture doesn’t show is how much it hurt. I distinctly remember my scalp tingling from the chemicals, but even then, a one-time chemical burn was preferable to regular, painful comb-outs. (Even though my mother was super gentle, it was a traumatic experience for both of us). I wanted hair that moved, like the blond and brunette girls I went to grade school with. Relaxer made that possible, and I would continue on the creamy crack for the next quarter century.
Somewhere in my early 30s, something in me started to rebel. I remember writing in a journal that I wanted to be relaxed in my soul, not on my scalp. This growing discomfort (and boredom) with my relaxed hair, along with a burgeoning curiosity about what my real hair actually looked like under there, eventually won out. I stopped relaxing and got twist extensions for the transition. It was a little crazy; trust me, extra hair is the last thing I needed, but it was convenient and looked polished enough for me to earn a paycheck from my corporate clients while I plumbed the depths of my sprit and follicles. Adios, neck burns from curling irons; sayonara, scalp burns from relaxer; au revoir, fear of rain and humidity! It was wonderful.
Well, sort of. That “transition” lasted 11 years (and only heaven knows how many thousands of dollars to purchase someone else’s hair and have it attached to my own), until, on a sabbatical from corporate America, I finally had the time and opportunity to experiment with going bareback, all natural, without extensions, for the first time since I got that first relaxer. Naked, is how it all felt. I spent the requisite time on You Tube communing with the kinky nation, the legions of gorgeous women of color letting the truth of their hair set them free. It took me about 3 months to decipher and decompress from the information overload (the online discourse of the natural hair community, though generally well-meaning, can get a little dogmatic and fixated), get to know my own hair and the products and techniques that work for it.
The emotional part was also a quiet revolution that had been happening all along. It turns out naked felt great after a brief adjustment period. I wasn’t hiding anything anymore. And it’s true, going natural can be a lovely act of self-acceptance. I was amazed at how fun, versatile and manageable my hair really is, after a lifetime of believing it was difficult and unattractive, but secretly suspecting it might not be so “bad,” after all. And products have truly evolved since the ‘70s; no one needs to be afraid of their curl pattern anymore. As for reactions from others, when anyone noticed a difference at all (people really don’t pay that much attention or care as much as one might think) reactions have been almost 100% positive, including at work, where, let’s face it, image counts for a lot.
So how do you let it all hang out while hanging onto your image and career? It helps tremendously that the zeitgeist is on our side now. Here are a few things I’ve learned along the way:
1. Do understand the risks: Just like everyone’s not going to like you, everyone’s not going to like your hair, either, no matter what it looks like. Always keep in mind the culture you’re operating in. Once, in the elevator at work, a stranger asked me, with her face scrunched up, “How do you wash it?” That was the question I got most often when I had twist extensions, and was really the only negative feedback that came my way (at least directly). Sure, some folks are genuinely curious, but we all know that this kind of question usually counts as what we black folks call “signifyin,’” in this case that twisted or locked styles are unclean. The answer is that you wash it with shampoo and water, very much like you would otherwise. Said with just the right amount of matter-of-fact indifference, it both educates and chastens the asker without hostility.
2. Don’t be too conscious of it: If your style is super-big or fussy, your natural hair can overshadow your image and your message. Beautifully matter-of-fact, in both style and attitude, is the right idea. It’s just what’s on your head, not the entirety of you. If you accept it as a given, everyone else is more likely to do so as well.
3. Do get your hair groomed professionally regularly: The online natural hair community is very pro-DIY, but professional women can really benefit from professional grooming whenever possible, including natural hair maintenance. My stylist, who specializes in natural hair, has saved me hours of heartache and hundreds of dollars of hair product experiments gone awry with her years of experience and wisdom.
4. Don’t judge other women’s hair decisions: I don’t have to tell you that there’s no right or wrong when it comes to hair, right? Live and let live.
5. Do let your natural hair be a badge of your confidence: Rock it the right way (see above) and natural hair can be a sign of style, authenticity and gravitas, a quiet statement of confidence in who you are and what you’re capable of. That’s the definition of good hair.
Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/badgrannies-goodies/5206203963/
