My Hair Transition
In my teenage years, it has been difficult to find a personality into which I can settle, as I am always transitioning from phase to phase. However, there is one aspect about me that will always characterize me and that I will always adore, my hair. My hair is my armor, not only because it is a representation of my strong, determined, and go-getter badass chic personality, but also because it protects me from the sorrows of the world.
Growing up as an Afro-Latina kid, I was taught to abhor my kinky Afro-textured hair. According to Eurocentric beauty standards, my hair was not the epitome of beauty. Having this type of hair meant that I should be ashamed of it, that I should disguise it, deny it, and adjust it, which is why my family started …show more content…
I was unable to bear the relaxer burning my scalp, I despised that my hair was extremely unhealthy, dry, weak, and unable to grow. I detested my hair. Therefore, I decided to change it. Throughout my hair transition, there were times where I felt the complete opposite of beautiful, times where I questioned if going back to my roots was worth it, and if it just would be easier to keep relaxing my hair. However, these feelings quickly passed, as every time I saw my natural hair growing, curling again, and separating itself from the straight relaxed hair, joy overcame me. I was starting to appreciate my hair …show more content…
It was healthy, and I had finally learned how to love it and feel beautiful with it, since I realized that at the end of the day, it is mine. I feel truly enamored when I see my hair curl in its kinky strands. It pleases me to run my hands through it and feel those kinky strands. I cherish its hefty size, its circular shape, and how it defies gravity. I love how much care my hair requires; and I love it so much that every Sunday I dedicate to giving it that care by letting it deep condition for two hours, thoroughly washing it, and putting it in twists so it does not shrink. It thrills me how versatile my hair is. One day, I can wear it in an Afro, the next day I can wear it in long braids, or cornrows, or faux locs, or whatever else I decide, because the decision lands on me, not on my family, not on society, or on anybody
Growing up as an Afro-Latina kid, I was taught to abhor my kinky Afro-textured hair. According to Eurocentric beauty standards, my hair was not the epitome of beauty. Having this type of hair meant that I should be ashamed of it, that I should disguise it, deny it, and adjust it, which is why my family started …show more content…
I was unable to bear the relaxer burning my scalp, I despised that my hair was extremely unhealthy, dry, weak, and unable to grow. I detested my hair. Therefore, I decided to change it. Throughout my hair transition, there were times where I felt the complete opposite of beautiful, times where I questioned if going back to my roots was worth it, and if it just would be easier to keep relaxing my hair. However, these feelings quickly passed, as every time I saw my natural hair growing, curling again, and separating itself from the straight relaxed hair, joy overcame me. I was starting to appreciate my hair …show more content…
It was healthy, and I had finally learned how to love it and feel beautiful with it, since I realized that at the end of the day, it is mine. I feel truly enamored when I see my hair curl in its kinky strands. It pleases me to run my hands through it and feel those kinky strands. I cherish its hefty size, its circular shape, and how it defies gravity. I love how much care my hair requires; and I love it so much that every Sunday I dedicate to giving it that care by letting it deep condition for two hours, thoroughly washing it, and putting it in twists so it does not shrink. It thrills me how versatile my hair is. One day, I can wear it in an Afro, the next day I can wear it in long braids, or cornrows, or faux locs, or whatever else I decide, because the decision lands on me, not on my family, not on society, or on anybody