Kinky,and Coily and Nappy,OH MY!

“Why, Why, Why,” were the thoughts that evaded my mind when I finally did my own big chop and witnessed the matted bush that rested on top of my head. I never expected my hair to look like that; so wiry and spiraled tight. I couldn’t tell if I had curls or not. “What did I get myself into,” I pondered as I lurked at my hair with frustration. In the past when I wore my hair relaxed, I was always curious about how I would look as a natural girl. Therefore, after countless encounters with beautiful, black woman that sported natural hair, I was finally ready and anxious to find out.
After transitioning for a year and a half with braids, weaves and wigs, I was finally ready to see my natural hair; the real me, I thought, as I was flooded with excitement. There was no turning back now. No second-guessing with that first cut which brings us to that very moment with me standing in front of my bathroom mirror ashamed at the sight of my hair, and out of sheer ignorance I thought, “why does it look so dry and nappy?” What do I do now, I wondered.
Prior to going natural I never really educated myself about black hair so I was oblivious as to what type of texture I had and the proper tools needed to maintain it. That hindrance alone sparked up a desire in me to learn more about this hair of mine. Why was I so self-conscious about my hair in its natural appearance, were one of the many questions that surfaced, yet only a question that I could answer. Ultimately, it was more than just my hair. The underlying realization was that I felt ashamed of my image. I left the house with a wig covering my head that day but I was disappointed not with my hair but at myself. I came to terms with the fact that in the past my confidence did not dwell within but it was the weaves, wigs, and overly processed hair that masked all the true insecurities I internalized about myself. I transformed from feeling like a diva to feeling like Celie from the movie, The Color Purple, and that was a problem.
As a result, in my quest to loving the natural me, I had to search for inspiration from within. India Irie expressed it best through her song ,“I Am Not My Hair” with the message that helped me realize my nappy hair is just proof of my ethnicity, what it represents, and what it means to be BLACK. Everything else is a direct manifestation of what lies beneath. Frantically, I began pulling inspiration anywhere and everywhere, whether it was through songs, pictures, books, poetry, the internet anything imaginable that would keep me from running to the nearest beauty supply store and purchasing a relaxer!
Now here we are in 2011 marking February a whole year since my emotional big chop. Through this initial process humbly, I learned a lot about myself and my corkscrewed strands of beauty, and with that knowledge accompanied an awareness on black hair and the negative way its portrayed in our black culture.