I Think I Love My Hair?

... To the conflicted curly girl within us all just trying to live.

The first time I saw someone with my hair pattern

Rock the big screen was when I was introduced to Issa Rae's Awkward Black Girl series on YouTube. There she was, a dark-skinned, short kinky-haired beauty freestyling her quirky, on-the-fly rhymes to herself. I resonated deeply and quickly with her traits. A few long years later, she comes out with the show Insecure, a sitcom surrounding the highs and lows of being a late twenty-something to early/mid-30-year-old, just trying to make it somewhere in life. In every episode, Issa's hair progresses with the seasons. First, starting with a cute TWA (teeny weenie afro), then moving up to classy and innovative updos all while staying natural, I had never seen representation like this before. Not just the natural hair portion, but the versatility in the styles as well. Around the time of the show, the most I saw done with our hair on screen was anything straight or some type of extension. Which I still love, but at the time I never knew what I was missing. Her ability to express a sexy, classy, or even adventurous style surprisingly complemented the awkwardness of her character. Even though Issa was always showcasing a woman who barely had her life together, and a personality that came off naive and childish, this didn't mean her hair had to be presented in the same way.

Often you see in media black women's hair

Reflecting their success and status in the world. Always, the super successful doctor with straight presses, or the well-known socialite with bone-straight extensions reaching past her waist. These examples are far more common to signal success in life, dating, and health for a black woman's character. To play the devil's advocate, there are times when black women are allowed to wear their natural hair. Three rules, though—first, your curls need to be looser than a type 4, you have to be racially ambiguous, or your character has to fit into a stereotypical box. Shows from the early 2000s and movies from the Blaxploitation era prove just that. Black actresses are only allowed to have short, kinky, or coily hair when their characters are meant to be seen as struggling and undesirable.

I wondered in the recent past why we as black women struggle with feeling beautiful in our natural hair. Not because I feel it's the only way we should wear it, but because it's one of our most unique features. Hair that defies gravity should be given the same amount of admiration, right? When did we circle back to our natural hair coming second in priority to fun temporary styles? Here are some takes I've seen:

• It makes us look childish, instead of sexy

• Doesn't fit with chosen aesthetic/style

Touching back on the show Insecure, if you have seen the show the entire series refutes these claims. Issa changes her hair often even when she's broke or busy. With each updo or wash and go she secures very attractive men (cough, cough, Daniel) who don't second guess her beauty when they see her kinks throughout the season. When she had hair barely past her ears styled in a pixie, her character was still able to tap into the sexiness and confidence of her inner self when necessary.

So with that being said

Why do we continue to believe the narrative that our shrunken curls cannot make us feel desirable, confident, or grown and sexy? I ask this question to myself as well, even as a curly hairstylist I am not exempt from the insecurities I have about my tight, type four hair. I am not a stranger to hot combs, quickweaves, lace fronts, and long silky extensions. For the majority of my life this is how I've chosen to wear my hair. Yes, for the beauty of a cute style, but digging deeper it was because I hated the way my hair looked on me. More specifically, I hated the way I was viewed in society when I wore it out and natural. When I had long, sleek weaves the attention I got was from everyone, including black men, was positive and abundant. Versus when I wore my natural hair, the lack of acknowledgment of my existence translated to me feeling invisible. In middle school, boys would tease us for our natural puffs comparing them to things like the head of broccoli or stubby bushes. Up until very recently, there were not a lot of safe spaces for kinky-haired girls to wear their hair out radically without the constant reminder that us natural will never be enough for the rest of the world. This is what I believe created the result of hating my hair. For a black woman, 80% of our lives will be trying to find a way to be accepted for our survival. So that means if jobs, potential partners, social settings, and more require an unspoken preference for our hair to be anything but kinky, then more than likely we will assimilate to protect ourselves socially.

However, shows like Insecure give me hope

Issa felt more than a fictional character to me. She represented a future where our hair is an extension of our creativity and individuality, instead of a prison with limited space to choose. She showed me that the reflected success and aesthetic we're craving is not cultivated in our hair, but originates within being yourself. These days I allow myself to indulge in all types of hairstyles despite what the world feels is best for me. Like India Arie sang, "I am not my hair" and however I choose to wear my crown will not lessen or increase my value to this world.

Sidenote- I LOVE YOU ISSA xoxo