It’s a classic love story: me and my hair. I have loved my hair. I have betrayed my hair. My hair and I have gone through this long, gut-wrenching relationship.
Growing up, I had really big hair. Giant hair. As I got older, the goal was to make it smaller — I wanted to look like everyone else. So I got a weave. I would manipulate my hair and try to make it straight.
I moved around a lot. Where I lived determined how comfortable I felt with myself. It had to do with race sometimes — I mean, most of the time, actually. I went to high school in Redondo Beach, California. I think my beauty worries were different than everyone else’s beauty worries because Redondo Beach was predominantly white.
My high school friends and I would go to the beach, and my issue was not my hair blowing in the wind or sand in my lipstick. It was my hair getting wet — and my wanting to keep it straight. You start to notice that boys like girls with that type of hair. And I will never have hair like that.
I don’t think people realize why weaves and the cultural appropriation of black hairstyles are so sensitive. It’s deep-rooted. For me, it goes back to high school: I wanted to have the long, flowing hair. So I got a weave. But then I didn’t want guys to put their fingers in it — you don’t want them to feel your weave.
My insecurities were not the same as my white friends’ insecurities. At a certain point, I was like, I’m over this. And I shaved my hair off. It’s funny how we’re attached to things like that. We hide behind our hair. I didn’t really think about that until I cut it off, and it was like, Oh, fuck.
So now I’m growing my hair back out. It’s in a little bun, but it’s thick, so it’s kind of coming out of the bun. Ten years ago, I would have never walked outside like this, but now I’m walking around with this little bun all day.
My hair was my enemy at one point, and through trial and error I realized I should just leave it alone. Because my hair is stubborn and rebellious like I am. The more I try to get it to do something it doesn’t want to do, the more it’s going to blow up in my face, and then both of us are left heartbroken.
I think I’m finally just letting her be. And the more I let her be, the more she works with me. Now I find myself playing with it and coming up with styles I really like.
It’s beautiful when someone can carry her own hair and body and curves and bumps. That’s how I feel about my hair now: We’re friends. In fact, we can’t get enough of each other.
Fashion stylist, Sean Knight. Hair: Nikki Providence. Makeup: Samuel Paul. Manicure: Nettie Davis.
A version of this article originally appeared in the September 2017 issue of Allure. To get your copy, head to newsstands or subscribe now.
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