Personal Narrative: My Plaited Plats

I was born July 18,1999 at 10:00 o'clock on the dot. My features as pure, naked as my maker my texture so soft, curly and natural as my ancestors before me: and this is where my story begins. Through my toddler years I wore plaited plats that had beads at the end in which I was in love with. I would whip my hair as a lion ferociously grooms its mane with I knew that this defined who I was, a little girl with power who had control over her life and didn't care about others opinion. But this took a turn for the worst in the 5th grade. My plaited braids weren't enough, there were so many new trends that came out in 2009, that my mind was lost in a whirlwind. My hero Beyoncé was telling me to pat my weave but I couldn't pat my plaited hair, maybe scratch my scalp but not pat. This was a note that I took down mentally, if
my idol is doing it maybe I should too. My friends were like mini judges to me they would do every style that Beyoncé had and would sure slay it, but they began to look at my plaited plats and would always tell me that wasn’t something that was trending and wasn't cool, this criticism made my brain have a malfunction.
I looked around my classroom and mentally panicked. I would see Chamara- WEAVE. Shania. -WEAVE Faith- PERM. Shayna- Perm. Sarah. OMBRE STRAIGHT and I looked in the mirror and then there was Emanie-. PERM. I was an African princess with a crown of plaits and beads and now I was a shadow. I carried a veil over my eyes in which blinded me from the truth of how bad a perm was. I sat in the salon chair in which the hairstylist took out the creamy formula and placed it onto my beautiful natural hair, as she rubbed the comb with the formula on it, my scalp tingled a little bit as the hairstylist proceeded to tell me that this was the process and that beauty takes pain. After her words hit my ears, my head was in flames the tingling became unbearable. I knew from that day forward, that my texture was gone, my power was gone and so was the inner queen that I had inside
me. My natural texture was lost for what I thought was forever, this girl who loved her hair, embraced her roots, and the power that her hair gave her, had so was entangled in what she thought was beautiful but inside was an empty soul. My Hair began to transform into its own identity, something that I didn’t love anymore, something that was brutal trying to be like a plant surviving without water. I lived with the resentment of my decision for 4 years. Having fun was limited if it involved impacting my hair, my hair presided the next stages of my life. I would cry often at the hair salon when the hairstylist was adding this creamy formula to my head, not because it burned it anymore, because I was able to see what the veil had covered my whole life. I visited my cousin that lived upstate a naturalist named Kassie Harris who saw my hair and decided to cut it to make me feel reborn again. After this I became this young woman who now has the confidence and power that I bring to the next stage of my life. An understanding not only of my own beauty of value but of other women’s beauty not based on hair straight, weave or perm but of intellect, character, values and love.