Curl Commentary
When I was a kid I wanted long, frizz-free, flowing locks
Hair that flows in the wind instead of hair that’s big enough to create its own shade
I wanted hair like Rapunzel’s
Or Ariel’s
Or Sleeping Beauty’s
Or [insert name of any other role model for little girls here]
With their light hair and fair skin they were angels
What every little girl wanted to be
And it didn’t take long for me to notice that these angels didn’t look like me
“Wow, your hair is really curly”
By the age of three I got tired of hearing it
People always found it necessary to voice their expert opinions
My smile became as tight as my curls
Whenever someone reminded me of how different the messy cloud above my head was
I allowed these comments that were meant to be compliments beat down my confidence
I was quick to prick, prod, pull and stick anything in my hair that would change my appearance
And that pain that started off visual soon became internalized and
In turn, my eyes stopped wanting to look in the mirror in the morning
“Oh just straighten your hair!” They would say “It will help”
Everyone suggested that same magical solution
But claiming that you have the solution is saying that there is something to fix in the first place
And even though my hair shouldn’t have been something to fix, or a problem to solve
I still had this vision in my mind of the perfect me
3-year-old me wanted hair she could run her hands through
5-year-old me wanted nothing more than long silky hair like her mom’s
And the little blonde girls playing with the little blonde barbies in the commercials
Were 7-year-old me’s goal and passion in life
I’ve never had a more unachievable dream
“What’s it like having black hair?”
I don’t know
When I was growing up I never had a role model to teach me how to “have black hair”
There was no beautiful black angel that came from the sky to teach me about my curls
Even the movies had nothing to offer me
After all, the only African Disney princess was Simba’s mom
And even she had straight, blonde hair
Now though, I see the significance of the brown follicles that spring from my skull
Yes, it’s true
To some my hair may be crazy, distracting, exotic and have a strange circular shape
But sir, if you would stop shaping and molding labels
To place upon my unplaced, untamed style
Wait a moment, and let me tell you the story of my hair
My hair is as stubborn as Rosa Parks
And has the frizz of Harriet Tubman
My hair has the body of Hattie McDaniel
It has the color of Daisy Bates
My hair shares a cut with Lil Hardin Armstrong
And Maya Angelou and I share the same curl
So I’m finished resenting my differences
And the next time someone tells me a solution for my serious situation
I will simply respond:
It’s my hair
Why do you care?