sagaciously is...

Note to the non-nappy, or folks wondering what the big deal is:   Hair Matters.

I went natural with the intention to not go natural. Let me 'splain.

I am one of "those" women - the kind that seems to efforlessly grow hair without a lot of thought/effort. The kind that seems to wear a pixie cut one year, and then a shoulder-length wrap the next. I come from a line of "those" women, you know...the kind that have (ahem) "good hair". My aunts, cousins, mom and grandma all had various states of curly, wavy and nappy hair, and most prided themselves on their hairdo. Our hair was our crowning glory, some tenous link to the "Indian" in our heritage - except that no one could tell me which tribe.

Without going over the whole history of my napps, a brief synopsis; I started going to the hairdresser to get my hair pressed when I was 4, had bra-length hair when I was 11, got my first perm when I was 13. The important thing to note: I had no clue how to take care of my own hair. And was completely uncomfortable with my napps. Perming-my-hair-at-the-first-sign-of-nappy-roots-uncomfortable, which was roughly every 4 weeks.

Skip ahead to 1997-1999: After years of abuse (color on top of perm, perming too often, and using alcohol & heat on it daily) combined with stress (you read the FL chronicles, right?) and a healthy dose of Depo-Provera I had a bald spot, breakage, and literally - straw.

My mother went partially & permanently bald at age 35, from some combination of permanent haircolor, and relaxer.

I cried when I looked in the mirror, longing for my 11-year old, bra-length hair. I wore falls, as expensive as my limited budget allowed (think Star Jones). I plotted, connived, straw set, spent endless dollars - anything to cover up my hair loss.

I got microbraids to give me length, which was the deathknell for my perm. I'd allowed the braider to put knots in my micros, after she assured me none of my hair was in the knots. HUGE mistake - but one that freed me. Removing the braids also removed more of my permed hair, revealing tons of nappy natural roots, with frayed permed ends.

Thoughts of my bra-length hair still plagued me, and it finally hit me. When I was 11, my hair was pressed occasionally, but mostly kept in pony tails. Long, nappy braids. My family, for the most part, either spent tons at the salon to avoid damage, or were natural also. So, I went natural, thinking I'd grow my hair out enough to "do something with it", and then press on a regular basis.

Well, go natural it was. I found a local salon, Taliah Waajid's to get it cut, and get an introductory education, since I still didn't know what to do with it. The result"

I liked it, but wasn't in love with it. My mother bought me plaid shirts and Doc Martens, convinced I was gay. I overcompensated with MAC, fake nails and Dendera eyebrows. However, this was circa Jill Scott, India.Arie, Lauryn and Erykah, so it was trendy. I'd learn to love it.

And then I found Nappturality. And my real hair-education began. That's when I learned that Hair Matters, and that black women's issues with hair are deeply ingrained, longstanding and P.R.O.F.I.T.A.B.L.E. That's where I began to learn: about the self-hate that underlies our images in the media, that most black haircare companies are owned by beauty conglomerates that (similar to pharmaceutical companies) profit more by making us continuously "fix" problems that they help cause, that people can get still get fired for having nappy hair, even in 2002, and that's where I learned to groom, style, nurture, cultivate and love my nappy hair.

< stepping off soap box > whew, it's been a long road, y'all. Meanwhile, here I am, still fighting my inner-straight-hair-demon. Tomorrow, I'm getting my napps cut, again - which I damaged (flat-ironed) in an attempt at conformity. What was I thinking? My hair wasn't having it, and neither am I. Nothing against, Sanaa, Jada, Latifah (love their straight - allegedly natural hair) but I want, no I NEED my super-nappy, EMPOWERING, Angela Davis, Big Ass Afro back.

The result:


Yeah, I know - it's not a fro. There's always tomorrow.