No ceremony, therapy or Insta-Story necessary, I cut off most of my hair ( something I’ve contemplated for years) and didn’t feel the need to broadcast every moment of ‘MY’ journey. I guess that is the point of this post; perusing social media is literally an act of self-awareness and regulation. If I could care less about random individuals excoriating handfuls of hair in their tiny, bathroom mirrors…. why the hell would anyone care about my bathroom chronicles? EXACTLY!!
Self-Awareness is real and if not for the potential for future revenues steams, others would conclude the same. Ironically, as a veteran hairstylist, I am navigating uncharted territory as I’ve never had a relationship with my natural hair. Like the white lady who Sophia worked for in The Color Purple , ‘I don’t know her’; my silent internal exchange each day that I face the mirror since the fleecing.
The beauty of this process is finally cultivating this relationship with my 4A texture (a ridiculous textual nomenclature)…. not with the products available to subdue and beat my texture into submission, but of embracing what God gifted me with from my inception. A clean face without eyelashes and the camouflage of 7-10 ounces of India’s best quality Remi- human hair.
My face, my hair, my skin color, my curvy body, my womanhood, my freedoms, my liberties, my independence, my religion, my career, my life…..are all under attack in Trumps America. To be sure, I am no longer sad, angry, or indifferent…. he nor his minions have any authority to affect my reality.
Being born a ‘Black Woman’ was Gods ultimate vote of confidence in my purpose. My existence is ordained, my hair and skin… weaponized by my otherness. I accepted my power years ago with the realization that … nobody got me; always judging, always projecting! Never understanding my drums, but they weren’t beckoning them.
My God and my Blackness are all that I need, no insta-story necessary; when you know, you just…..know!
Love & light