It’s Not Just A Black Thang

Since I virtually grew up in Leamington, Ontario (I spent every summer there from the time I knew what summer was until I was foruteen) it was inevitable that some of my first serious friends were Caucasian-Canadian. There was Michelle, an energetic and effervescent French-Canadian, and there was Lisa, a bubbly and sports focused German-Canadian. The three of us were the same age, although I was the youngest of the trio, and we were as thick as thieves, traipsing all around Sturgeon Woods and beyond.

Like most coloured girls at the time (and of times since), I held a silent (and sometimes not so silent) admiration for the silken and straight blonde hair of my cohorts, and while I did not wish to physically possess hair “like theirs”, I often longed for the ease of letting my hair hang loose, or simply tossing it in a ponytail when all other options failed. Michelle was a “dirty blonde” with flush shoulder length strands that she wore untethered. Lisa’s hair was a wavy/curly mass of yellow blonde, with darker blonde roots for a natural contrast. Although her hair was thicker than Michelle’s, both possessed the garden variety “good hair” that was held by society as the standard by which all heads should be measured.

What always amazed me about my friends was, for as fascinated with their tresses as I was… they equally verbalized a fondness for mine. I couldn’t understand why. I mean whenever we went swimming I always has to wear a cap or else I’d come out looking like the Don King by the head — sans the gray, of course. I could never wear my hair free because the humidity granted to the area by a heated Lake Erie would never fail to give me the equivalent of a matted helmet. And there was never any “get up, brush, and go” for me, but still, both Michelle and Lisa were enthralled with my hair’s texture and body… so much so that Michelle even got a curly perm at one point! This was the first time I realized that white women permed their hair to achieve what we naturally have been blessed with, while black women relax ours in order to emulate their hair. Of course, Michelle reverted back to her au naturale locks due to the damage the chemical process caused her, but it was cute while it lasted… in a pet poodle kinda way. *snicker*

My friend Dana, who is bi-racial, has the prettiest raven hair that softly curls, and yet she regularly relaxes her hair to achieve a straight grade. We’ve known each other since the sixth grade, and I have always envied her hair that was free of the coils I had to tame chemically in order to achieve a texture close to hers. But like Michelle and Lisa, she wished for warp and woof that would hold the more “urban” styles of her peers (ya’ll know the crazy styles we had back in the 80’s took a nice amount of relaxed “kink” to pull off *lol*). Another school friend, Felisita, has the gorgeously straight, chocolate tinted hair of a Puerto Rican Latina, which seems to grow an inch a second. *lol* I’ve always loved her length, which has spanned from shoulder length to down her back at varying times during the eighteen years I’ve known her. She, on the other hand, “hates” how limp, lifeless, and fly-away her strands can become, making it difficult for her to style it in any other way than ponytails. Although I’m not sure if she ever permed her hair, but I do know she’s wished many times for thicker tresses that held a bend and feathered bangs.

So, I guess the hair affair comes in all flavours, eh? And it’s not just about texture either. Brenda, a new reader, pointed out to me that she has issues with the graying process, and worked her way to accepting it. In response to “The Long & Short of It” she offers:

I loved your story … and can relate from my own perspective as one who is fighting the stigma associated with women with GRAYING hair. I stopped coloring mine two years ago when I decided to “own” my years and the worries that have caused my tresses to to fade.

She reminded me of my mother, who has been a Honey Blonde, courtesy of Dark & Lovely, since the days of yore in efforts to stave the gray. In addition to that, Ms. Marva has periodically relaxed the naturally soft coils graced her by her half Native-American grandmother, not because she “hated” her hair, but for the same reason as Lisa, Dana, and Lisa: for texture’s sake.

All of this just goes to show, the stigmas surrounding hair touch us all, regardless of age, hair type, or racial background. Whether we feel our hair is too limp, too unruly, or too showing too much of our age, we all have our crosses to bear. It’s not just a “black thang”; in many instances it’s not even exclusively a woman thing, because men have a set of hair issues all their own that we haven’t even begun to touch. *lol* What it is, is a hair thing, and since we all have hair (most of us, anyway *wink*) it’s a universal issue that sometimes “plagues” us for the whole of our lives. It takes simply time and patience for us all to break through certain hair-reotypes, and to learn to accept and manage our own hair, whether we choose the natural route, relaxed, curly permed, or coloured.

So to all my sistahs, and brothers, in the struggle who’ve happened upon my blog in your hair care searches, know that I feel your pain. Don’t let the melanin fool ya. *lol*

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Journey Guest 01 - Your Hair is What You Eat

NOTE: While my idea for this Blog was to personally write each of the entries, I’m still relatively a newbie concerning certain “tricks of the trade”. I realize eating healthy promotes well-being for every part of the human body, how it specifically affects hair health is a bit beyond my “expertise” at the moment. That being the case, here is a lovely article that goes to show, it’s not just what you put on your hair that counts when making the step towards strong and beautiful locks. It’s what you put in your body as well.

Eat Well For Strong Hair

By Leah Salmon From Davidel

Ever heard of the saying beauty is only skin deep? Well on many levels this is true, but did you know that a good diet of clean healthy foods is not only good for your insides, but can also do wonders for your skin and hair too.

There are so many products available to put on to our hair that promise to do everything from rebuild dead hair, make dull hair more shiny and totally eliminate a dry flaky scalp. However, what is important to remember is that our hair grows from within our body’s and is literally grown from the foods we eat. So if you eat rubbish, guess how your hair is going to look and feel, that’s right, like RUBBISH!

Here are my top 7 tips for strong healthy hair

• Drink more water – Dehydration contributes to literally every disease conditions in the body including dry lifeless skin and hair. The cells in your skin, hair and scalp need ample water to kept them plump and active and a dry body leads to dry hair and scalp. So simply drink more water, at least 6-8 glasses a day.
• Cut the junk – Junk food is full of sugar (there’s even sugar in a Mc Donald’s salad), saturated fats and high levels of demineralised salts. These all produce toxins which your body has to work hard to eliminate. Some of these toxins will come out of your scalp causing very greasy or very dry hair. Heavy sugar intake can lead to a Candida infection which appears on the scalp as flakes and also drains vital minerals from our body which are needed for hair growth. Junk food is also void of nutrients so your body will take nutrients away from growing your hair to process this nutrient dead food.
• Eat more fresh fruits and vegetables – These have high quantities of the vitamins and minerals which promote hair growth, strength and health listed below, they help cleanse your body of toxins which may hinder your scalp and they are a good source of water.
• Increase your intake of the following vitamins and minerals which are all involved in hair growth and health: Vitamin A & B Complex including Biotin and Folic Acid, Choline Bartrate, iron, copper, iodine, selenium, zinc and manganese.
• Be friends with fats – Essential fatty acids are the cornerstone of healthy hair, they promote hair growth, keep the scalp nourished therefore preventing dry flaky scalp, aid hormone function which affects hair growth, balding etc and assist your body in using all the other vitamins and minerals needed for healthy skin and hair.
• Less is more – Piling 10 different products onto your hair every morning is like performing a science experiment on your self. Individually they may be fine, but in combination, you don’t know what chemicals you have created to put on your hair and scalp. Remember, what goes on your hair will get into your scalp and then into your blood stream. Be careful.
• Go back to nature – plants and herbs that have been used by our ancestor for ages are normally best for our hair and in their whole unprocessed state they are nutrient rich and more nourishing for our hair and scalp. So if you are going to use hair products, try these, one at a time or in combination if brought from a reliable company: shea butter, cocoa butter, coconut oil, olive oil, jojoba oil and carrot oil for starters. The essential aromatherapy oils Tea tree, lavender, rosemary are useful to hair also, but ensure you dilute them in a carrier oil before use on hair, scalp and skin.

As well as science to back these tips up with, there are many people who testify to the difference felt in their hair and from slight changes in their diet, One of the first things I noticed when I was changing to a healthier diet was that by cutting out sugar and saturated fats, my scalp wasn’t dry and flaky all the time and I didn’t need to wash it every 3 days. The simplest things seem to make the most difference so remember, more water, healthy food, friendly oils, supplements and less junk.

So your beauty can really start from deep within.

~@~

Leah Salmon of Davidel has practiced and studied nutritional therapy and herbal medicines for over 8 years, she writes articles for magazines, Ezines and also teaches on natural healthcare for the family. For more information on natural healthcare visit www.davidel.com or email with any queries or advice

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Did you find this article useful? Be sure to drop a note to Ms. Salmon at info@leahsalmon.com.

NOTE: I discovered this gem of an article on Tytecurl.com

 

I Am Too My Hair!

You know when India’s song came out every sistah was rocking it, bobbing their heads back and forth to affirm that not matter what they choose to do with the mass of protein that sprouts from their scalps, they refused to be defined by it. I was one of those sistahs, even as I was frying my strands to oblivion with my Motion’s super strength relaxers. *lol* I liked the idea of telling people where to get off if they thought they could make me conform to what they thought I should do with my hair, or those who misappropriated their ideas of me because I wouldn’t. Of course I was still conforming by perming my hair, but even with that, I rocked the styles I wanted, or sometimes opted for no style at all. My hair was not the whole of me, and anyone who thought different could stuff it. *lol* But one night, during a poetry telecipher known as The Session (big ups to Max and the rest of the NWO gang), I heard a fellow word smith recite a poem called “I Am My Hair” and it got me to thinking personal the concept of hair can be.

The gist of the poem was about how the reciter was Native American, and how hair for them told the story of wear they’d be. Like the rings of a tree, each inch spoke of trials and triumphs; loves lost and battles won. Of children born and ancestors passed. It was such a touching tribute to heritage, and the author of the poem spit it with such convicting venom. The entire experience put a whole new spin on the hair game, which was the start of me taking the natural journey a whole lot more seriously… even though it took a good six months or so before I ventured out onto it.

The natural journey is a dithyrambic and personal one, and can become very absorbing once you begin to focus your efforts. It’s not merely about hair, its about a coming back to who you truly are; about relearning what you believe and reconstructing those parts that don’t align with your authentic self. When that first span of new growth rears it’s ugly head, it tests your strength, your determination, and your faith in yourself to carry through. All of those bad hair demons which found a home in your psyche come out to play, and you’re forced to deal with (and break down) more misapprehensions than you thought you could hold. Each inch of new growth tests your restraint, because it takes a very strong will not to go running to your nearest beauty supply store and literally throwing money at the clerk for some conking cream. The natural hair journey is possibly months of facing yourself in a mirror (or totally avoiding them altogether) and dealing with the fact that you do not fit into the standard of beauty as set by modern society. And that assessment doesn’t just stop at your hair… it begins to pick apart any and every “imperfection” you feel you have! Yes, this process definitely shows you what you’re made of from very early on.

Before I started to grow my hair out, natural sistahs used to intimidate the hell out of me. They carried with them such an air of “arrogance”, it was almost stifling and definitely made me feel self conscious. Not just about relaxing my hair, but about the type of person I was, my life directions and such. What I didn’t understand back then was the that arrogance was earned and very well deserved. You see, every kinky step along the path to naptural that is wrought with struggle is a testament to just how strong you really are. Just like in the poem, every inch of your curly, wavy or coiled new growth tells your personal story of breaking chains and emerging the victor over paradigms that no longer fit into your mind frame. So yes, that pride you feel vibing off a natural sistah, or see displayed in her every action, is merited. Because they have put in time on the front line warring against being pushed into a little box which limited their beauty, and have come to a place now where their hair no longer defines them. It becomes the expression of who they know they were meant to be, as it was meant to be.

So I say it proudly, and with all the naturally arrogant attitude I can muster: I AM TOO MY HAIR! Because my hair speaks deeper than just about how I look. It exclaims to the masses in a booming voice, exactly who I AM.

Dedicated to A New Lis, and all my other sistahs (and brothers) starting on or considering taking this journey.

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Twist Out: Take One

Okay, ordinarily, from what I read, a twist out is done after the hair has had a chance to “set” for a couple of days. But since my satin wrap was not available for sleep last night (dern dirty clothes), a couple of the twist started to unravel. And this inspired the great twist out fiasco of 2008!

I say fiasco because THIS is what a twist out is supposed to look like:

Now, keeping in mind the model on the book cover has way more hair than I do, I wasn’t expecting to duplicate that look exactly. Especially not on my first time out.

Here is what my twist out resulted in:

Very early Joie Lee/Gary Dourdan mug shot-ish. Not what I expected at all but… No one said I was an old pro at this. *lol*

NOTE: I didn’t take any before pictures because 1. It takes two hands and 2. I’m sure you get the gist of the process if you simply reverse the process of twisting. *lol*

What I figured out was the twists were not tight enough at their base to form a continuous spiral from root to tip. Well, it did on the top of my hair, but at my hair line and at the nape of my neck the result was more poof than spiral. I’m sure that is due to the length of my hair and my inexperience with twisting, so I’m not too put out about it. It’ll get better as I go, I’m told.

So now, to re-wet and re-twist and allow it to set for a few more days before I make my second attempt at le twist out. This time I’ll play with directions and smaller twists. *smile*

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Doing that “Jamaican Thing”

I made a trip to My Motherland yesterday with my newly twisted tresses secured beneath my red bun wrap… for protective and cosmetic measures (I’ll get over “how they look” soon, trust me). My one and only stop was to my old house, where my Soon-To-Be-Ex-Husband still resides. The purpose of the mission was to pick up a replacement cell phone for Adah, but we ended up staying long enough to have dinner (it was late and I knew Saburo would be sleep by the time we got back home) and take in part of a movie. Being proud of my first time twisting efforts and wanting to share, I showed a picture of them to my SBTE, who responded with a rousing burst of laughter that kind of gut punched me. To be met with laughter after having a good handful of people rave about how cute the twists looked on me, put me somewhat on the defensive, but I held my ground and let the laugh pass. He didn’t offer any explanation for whether the laugh was one of complimentary surprise or insensitive mocking either, but what he did offer was this question:

“So, are you converting?”

My eyebrow raised, hand on hip, peering over the rims of my DKNY frames response was, “Converting? Converting to what?”

“You know…” he said without really looking at me, “That whole Jamaican ‘thing’.”

It was my turn to laugh then, because what I’d mistaken as a slight to the unspoken tune of him calling me a “nigger baby” (he is Scottish-American and predispositioned to make some stoopid, yet accidental, comments afterall), was actually the unspoken assumption that I have assimilated factions of another culture because there is a new man in my life. What he had meant to ask, but couldn’t properly articulate, is if I have adopted the Rastafarian faith. I had to laugh because his postulation was based on the fact that Penzi is Caribbean, and because we all know how deep Eurocentric stereotypes of other cultures can go, in the mind of my STBE, all Caribbean natives grow Dreads, sit around puffing “da ganja” all day, and, of course, come from Jamaica. And by proxy of this ignorant belief, it is safe to assume that the STBE also believes that anyone who dates a Caribbean native is immediately subject to mandatory metanoia , or else. Ya know… like Jews and Muslims. *lol* So in his mind, the fact that I like reggae, dancehall, soca, and Red Stripe, as well as have decided to go natural and put twists in my hair is a direct influence of Penzi, who “bullied” me into liking these things against my will. *rolls eyes*

Truthfully, I’ve always held a fascination with Jamaican and Bahamian culture (the two islands that were most prominently advertised during my formative years) ever since I was a wee one (although the Red Stripes are a recent addition to the affinity), and would go through phases where I immersed myself into it as much as I could via reading and music. Because I never knew any Jamaicans of Bahamians first hand, my education in their culture was limited to what filtered to me through the media, but that did not stop me from loving certain things about the islands or the people. I never really shared this with the STBE because… well… I had a hard enough time trying to explain certain things to him about black people in his home country. I wasn’t trying to give myself a headache by attempting to get him to understand others. Additionally, my fondness for natural hair has been eternal when it came to other people sporting it, but I never had the courage, support, or knowledge enough to experience it first hand. There was no explaining this to the STBE either, because the only hair he understood was the kind that fluffed and feathered of its own accord, and was the mark of what hair should be for all people.

The STBE is not the only one who has made assumptions based on ignorance of my true feelings. I’ve had plenty of people associate my reason ceasing the relaxation of my hair, as well as why I no longer eat pork with my relationship. But little do they know, while Penzi doesn’t eat pork himself, for health and other reasons, THIS ARTICLE is the basis behind my decision to become stop consuming the piggies. And although Penzi was a big proponent for me going natural, realistically it was my desire for stronger, healthier hair which didn’t end up mostly in my comb or on the sink, that won me over. And is still winning me over today. No sense trying to convince others of that if they weren’t aware of it already. This is my journey, not theirs.

In retrospect, it’s easy to see where the STBE developed his misconception, since it was only after Penzi and I got together that I felt the urge to fully embrace the fixations I’d secretly held. I can’t fault him for putting the two and two together that were visible to him and coming out with the four of me doing “the Jamaican thing” based on his limited knowledge of me and my passions. His comment, although a bit narrow minded, wasn’t meant to be malicious, as most of his comments aren’t. He was just speaking from an envious place in himself that can not see me making any changes in my life that are so different from my “norm” now that I’ve left him, unless they are influenced by an outside source (because that’s how he operates, he assumes the entire planet does too). What he really needs to realize is, the seeds were planted for these changes in the soil of my soul a long, long time ago. It just took a compassionate and encouraging co-gardener to help them start to sprout. *smile*

Another thing he needs to realize is… Penzi IS NOT Jamaican… but I guess that would be asking too much from a man who thinks a particular culture holds ownership over any one hair style.

And since we’re on the topic of “That Jamaican Thing”, here’s a tee hee from my youth:

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Two Strand Twists - Take One

Okay, so now that I have some substantial length I have been trying to find alternative styles to wrapping and fro’ing. MiamiShyner, a fellow naptural from my Vox fam, recommended two strand twists, so after reading up on the process and products needed, I figured I’d try my hand at them today.

Now keep in mind, I’m new to this, so when I saw example pictures that looked like this:

I was ultra excited cause I love that look! Being a newbie it didn’t immediately register to me that 5′ of dried natural hair DOES NOT equal out to 5′ of twisted natural hair. DOH! But wait, I’m getting a head of myself aren’t I. Here is the process in words and pictures:

First off, the materials needed to pull off this caper are:

1 wide tooth comb, gel (I used Natural Hair Care Organic Root Stimulator Lock & Twist Gel but aloe vera gel can be used as well) and a spray bottle of water to re-wet the hair as it air dries.

As per all the directions I’d read, I washed, conditioned and treated my hair with my treatment products, then towel dried it slightly. Once that was done came the initial parting of my still damp hair into four sections, leaving the section I planned to start with free to be manipulated:

NOTE: Hair need not be wet for twists. You can blow dry it for more length, but be advised that the twists will have less definition than if allowed to dry twisted.

Once that was accomplished, I use my wide tooth comb to detangle the coils and distribute my loc and twist gel and commenced to twisting! *lol*

At a point in the process of twisting the front , I realized that I’d made the individual sections too large, which resulted in a thicker twist. The thicker twist did not give the entire style the fullness I was looking for, so I divided the initial twists into two.

For those that don’t know twisting is nothing more than braiding without the third strand of hair. I added this because for the longest while I believed there was some natural hair guru methodology to twisting. But honestly, it’s a very simple process that can only be “messed up” if you allow your anxiety to get in the way of your process. Admittedly, twisting the back of my hair was much easier than the front because I was not able to actually see how the hair turned out, which would have added to my preliminary “disappointment” of not having thick, full twists cascacadading down my upon my shoulders (yes I know it’s misspelled… it’s from a Whoopie Goldberg stand-up routine *lol*).

The end result of my three hour process is this:

Of course these are moist results which hadn’t expanded and settled yet, but I don’t think it’s bad for a first self-attempt.

I have to be honest. Upon first inspection of my twists I immediately hear the word picaninny echoing through my head. Hey… old conditionings are hard to shake. *shrug* But after receiving reassurance from Adah that I looked perfectly fine, and even “out-in-public” worthy, my trepidation waned. Penzi, who I sent a picture too once the twists had dried, told me I looked cute, so that boosted my confidence a notch as well. *smile*

I think I will be more pleased with the result once I get a few more inches under my belt, but all in all, I am pleased with the experience. I know practice makes perfect so this will not be my final take. Maybe I’ll make my Saturdays my twist training day and involve Adah so she can get practice, just in case she wants to do it herself one day. *lol*

Here is the dried twist result:

They’re soft and springy and oh so cute. *smile* Some of the ends are unraveling but it is what it is.

And next… we try the twist out! *wink*

If you’re interested in trying your own hand at twists, check out these tutorials for yourself:

Twists and Twist Outs @ Motowngirl.com

All About Two Strand Twists @ Tytecurl.com

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Journey Feature 01: Like Mother, Like Daughter

Every week I would like to feature a fellow naptural, whether seasoned or novice, to feature for inspiration purposes, and to honour them in their decision to live life on that natural. This week, it’s my oldest child and only daughter, Adah.

Adah is 18 years old, a senior classman at Bowsher High School, and a former member of the Bowsher Rebels track team. And much to my delight, Adah is also a fellow Journeyer who made her transition about the same time I did last year.

I began to relax Adah’s hair when she was maybe eight or nine, hoping to give it a bit more texture than what it had naturally (she had very fine, wispy hair that would not hold a style for more than a minute). I stopped when she was eleven because I did not like the damage it was doing to her hair. It was my mother who started Adah back on the perm track at age twelve, against my wishes, and it was Motions mild formula every four weeks for her for the next six years after that. We dealt with over processing, breakage and split ends galore, and there were many moments when I regretted starting her on the path of chemical straightening. But when you’re led to believe straight is the hallmark of follicular beauty, you swallow your pride and go with the flow of things.

I’m not altogether sure if Adah’s decision was out of support for my journey or whether she’d been considering it herself, but once she got going she held up like a trooper. In the beginning she experienced the same mental mind trips as I did when it came to making this decision — maybe more since she did so at a time in her life when peer pressure is at its strongest. During the rough phase where the hair is a patchwork of textures, Adah struggled hard with her choice, and even contemplated aloud about going back to relaxers. But with encouragement from me and her dad, as well as determination to see the process to the end, she stayed the course and i’m so glad she did! Look at how full and beautiful her hair is:

Like me she is 100% perm free, but she’s in need of a few end trims to even everything out as it grows. The process was pretty seamless for her as well, because she followed a regimen of keeping it well moisturized and as heat free as possible. Mostly she wear it in a ponytail with front bang wisps, but on regular occasion she takes it down and let’s it poof. *lol* As you can see, she has a lot more confidence than I started the process out with, which is a wonderful thing.

When asked how she feels about the whole process she stated, “I’m cool with it. If no one else likes it then that’s their problem. It’s my hair, not theirs.”

Very wise words, Adah. May we all maintain this frame of mind throughout our journeys.

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Society Beauty Stigmas: How I Overcame Them

Okay, so the title is a bit pretentious. I can’t sit here and honestly say I’ve won the battle of societal beauty stigmas in on fell swoop after being subjected to them for well over thirty years. I can say, however, that with each inch of new growth, my confidence in and acceptance of my authentic self is increasing. I mean, I not a very cosmetic person to begin with, but when it came to my hair, I was deeply locked into the stereotypes attached to what’s considered our “crowing glory”. Straight was where “it” was at, and nappy was crappy. Far be it for me to buck the system, so when I first began transitioning, there was not a moment when I was in the public eye that I did not have something done to my hair, or at least have it covered. I just wasn’t up to dealing with the stares and the comments I was sure would accompany me. Hey… I lived in Detroit, the hair captial of the world and honestly… natural hair is not as much as the cat’s meow there as one would think.

But what’s funny is, the only reason I anticipated that type of feedback was because it was truly what I’d been “trained” to believe myself. Even though I’d committed myself to taking this journey, I still held certain negative views about the whole thing. Without relaxers to smooth my thick and wavies, I honestly didn’t feel beautiful. This belief was so deep that even when I was home, around my children and the man I’d been married to for eight years, I kept my hair covered because I was that ashamed of it in its natural state. At the time there was no one in my circle who could relate, since every last one of my friends were as hooked on relaxers as I had been. I’d joined Nappturality.com but was too intimidated by the members who had fully embraced their nappiness, because it made me feel like a faker just going through the motions. So I mainly just lurked without reaching out to other members who might have played mentor to what I was going through.

As you can see, I had a lot of anxiety to work through in order to get the the point where I am now. The first step was to seriously assess why I’d made the decision to transition in the first place. Honestly, it was because Penzi requested (more like passively demanded *lol*) that I stopped perming my hair, but he’d made some very convincing arguments that got me to consider how much healthier going natural was for my hair,so I was easily swayed. I liked the idea of hair that wasn’t brittle and didn’t break off because it was weak. In addition to that, because I’m Neo-Pagan, going natural seemed like an outward expression of my inner faith, honouring my walk as a nature based witch, just as the Lord and Lady made me. So I had my reasons, which realistically had nothing to do with whether or not society accepted my choice or not.

The next step was reacquainting myself with my hair; learning what it liked and didn’t like; becoming accustomed to its look and feel. I came to learn that despite my worst fears, my natural hair grade was not as coiled as I’d previously thought, and didn’t take much to maintain. As I began to see it grow and take shape after several trims, I began to develop a newfound respect for my natural hair and for how beautiful it really is. This is turn helped to change my idea about myself in the aspect that if my hair is beautiful, and it is attached to my head, then I must be beautiful too. Of course I got a lot of encouragement from Penzi in that area, because even with as good as I was beginning to feel about the process, I still would not go out in public without having my hair wrapped up. *lol*

I think what really got me on the “screw society’s standards” bandwagon was last month, after I picked my hair out for the first time and braved a walk to the store sans my security wrap. It was late at night, so there wasn’t any fear of negative feedback from a large amount of people. But it was a big step for me because I knew someone other than me, my children, and Penzi would be privy to my heavily guarded secret. Much to my relief, the experience was no different than the other time I’ve been to the store, and this gave me confidence to take more and more trips with my hair out… all of which have been positive experiences, thankfully. Well, unless you count today when I was walking into Sally’s and some woman exclaimed, “Damn! Yeah she really needs to go in there. An Afro? She needs to do something with that!” *smdh* There’s always one, right? I just went on about my beauty supply business as my natural hair idol sang “Hate on Me” in my head

I guess the thing I had to learn is, it does not matter what anyone else thinks about me and my decision to give up conforming to who I was told I should be. What matters is who I know I AM, and who I AM is a woman who’s learning to love herself from the inside out. Nothing shows that more than accepting myself from the soles of my feet, to the tips of my natural hair. As I said in the beginning, I’m not completely recovered from the snow job the media and modern society have done to me when it comes to misconceptions of what is beauty. There are days when I look in the mirror and I question my decision because my hair doesn’t lay like every one else’s and I can not longer wear the styles I used to rock. There are days when I catch myself making mental statements towards other natural sistah and their styles of choice, like the one hurled at me today. But, all in all, I’m working on that part of the process, and making headway with each passing second by telling myself that the hair I was born with is the hair I was meant to have… and that it is way more beautiful than anything society can try to convince me of, or sell to me in a chemically based kit.

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

The Long & Short of It

][ orginaly posted June 2, 2007 on Vox ][

But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her: for her hair is given her for a covering.

1 Corinthians 11:15

As you may be able to see in the picture, I have never been at a loss for locks. My father's side of the family blessed/cursed (depending on your take) me with a head full of thick, super curly tresses that adorn my scalp from nape of neck to edge of substantial forehead... which they also blessed/cursed me with. *lol* I've had a love/hate relationship with that abundant mass of fibrous protein ever since I knew what it was. Its singular strands often unifying to become tiny, militant fists in response to water or humidity, or clinging defiantly around elastic bands in silent protests of my mother's meddling. Where my peer's hair would grow in length, mine would seem to find ways to defy gravity and expand in breadth across my head. So I could never sport the lovely styles of beaded braids or spiral curls that cascaded on shoulders or down the span of backs. Not even those all day kitchen salon press and curls, with the medieval ear torturing devices of hot comb and stove curling irons, could tame these tufts for long. Once I was out of that chair and unleashed on the outside at large, sweat and vigorous tomboy activity could swiftly undo the work of art Marva Joyce slaved hours to create. Then it was back to corn rolls or french braids for the kid.

My granddude always said, "Everybody's got 'good hair'. If you have hair... that's good, aint it?", but my hair wasn't Barbie straight or Cher long -- despite the one/sixteenth Native American blood that seemed to have blessed my brother and cousins with the soft, wavy manageable hair I missed out on. It didn't bounce, it didn't behave and that was what "good hair" did in my inexperienced opinion. What I had was... well it wasn't good, let's just say that.

My daddy loved my hair and would spend hours twirling it along his fingers, running his digits over and through it as if it were some treasure to behold. He was adamant about scissors staying as far away from me as possible, and when it came to the subject of chemically altering my locks, he was so dead set against it I was scared to even bring the subject up to him. Of course, he wasn't the one who had to deal with it, Marva Joyce did, and while she was not all that "for" me getting a perm, she was on the bandwagon for whatever made my hair easier to conquer. So at twelve... I got a Jheri Curl, believing it would give me that pretty, wavy effect i'd seen in the magazines and on television. HA! What it ended up being was either drip-drip messy or haystack dry... neither of which was cute nor sexy. *smdh* NO! I will most certainly NOT post pictures of that fiasco, so don't ask! As a matter of fact, let's flash forward a bit... forget you ever read that, okay? Don't make me have to break out that Men In Black device to help you with that. *lol*

I was fourteen when I transitioned from the style that shall not be named into a relaxer, thinking finally I would be able to enjoy the length and texture I envied in my youth. Finally it would blow in the wind, snap back in shape when I flung it flirtingy out of my eyes, and take on that sexy when wet appeal after I washed it. Sound good didn't it? Well it neeeeever happened, and after years of trying to achieve advertisement perfection you know what i did? Yup, you guessed it. I chopped it off. Well, not completely of course. With all the shocks my dad had taken up to that point when it came to my hair, I wasn't trying to kill the man. *lol* I kept my hair in a nice, manageable Halle Berry style complete with a barber taper and pencil curls along the "kitchen" area. Everyone said it suited my face shape and made me look much "older" and "sexy". That was all well in good but what I was really trying to do was keep the untameable beast that resided atop my head as subdued as possible. Since bi-weekly beauty shop trips were never in the budget, sporting the short do was a low maintenance option. Or so I thought. Wanna guess how many sets of curling irons I had to use at any given time just to keep my hair presentable? No really... take a guess! If you guessed any less than four, ranging from 3/8 to 1 inch barrels you were wrong. *lol* The easiest option most times was to brush it back and slick it down with Pre Con Gel, but even that took skill, thanks to my hair's natural tendency to curl on its own accord.

Like my daddy, most of the men I've "dated" and/or married have been lovers of hair, so my short and sassy style really didn't set right with them. My words for them were "Either like it as is or pay for it to get done." They've always opted for the latter. *smh* cheap bastards. It wasn't until I was carrying my Saburo that i decided to try my hand at cultivating a longer style. Actually, I had a deal with my Soon-To-Be-Ex that if I grew my hair, he'd cut his. Since I had been trying to get him to chop of his past shoulder length ringlets for years (long hair on men, cute to look at but not all that practical) I took up the gauntlet he threw down and went for what I knew. Thankfully, pregnancy hormones were on my side making the process somewhat effortless. I was so in love with my hair then. It was soft with that feather-light lilt that lifts in the breeze then settles back in its original space once the wind ceases its molestation of it. I'd worked my way down to just needing one two inch bumping iron to style it, and when i didn't feel the need to deal with it, *swoop*... back into a ponytail it went. I was also blessed at the time to have secured a personal stylist who's loving caress every two weeks seduced my follicles into giving up the goods, and finally... FINALLY... I had that "good hair" I'd been striving for all that time! WOOOHOOO! Then I lost contact with my stylist and from there, it was the classic story of hair gone wild for four years to follow.

I used to wonder where the big fascination and obsession with hair came from. For both men and women. Such a trivial object, this outgrowth of dead skin cells, yet it determines beauty, is used to identify sex, and without it being "just right", our personal identities suffer. Could it be the whole 1 Corinthians 11:3-15 deal? The Fisherian Runaway model of sexual selection? *shrug* I dunno, but whatever it is, it has most of us tight in its grip. Some to the point where leaving the house sans some sort of covering or having your hair "fried, dyed, and laid to the side" is a no no. *raises hand* Can't come out in less than your coiffured best when you live in the hair capital of the world,.. or at least [sporting] something to compensate. *giggle*

India’s lyrics ring true for some of the misconceptions some of us hold: “Good hair means curls and waves/Bad hair means you look like a slave”. Most of us have developed such a stigma about how our hair “should” look, built upon years of societal and cultural standards, stereotypes and subtle “brainwashing” on what beauty really means. Me so much so that whenever even a trace of fuzziness presented itself along my hairline or “kitchen” area, I’d beat a hasty retreat to the nearest beauty supply to replenish my super strength Motions no-lye relaxer and smooth out the problem. *sigh* I’ve taken my hair through a lot in a little over two decades. Chemical curling and straightening, bleaching and streaking, quick weaves, blow drying, almost daily {hot] curling, spritzing and styling. It’s a wonder [my hair] just ain’t jumped off my head at some point and ran screaming into the night! It’s relatively healthy because it’s a trooper like me, but I’m sure it’s weary. Just as weary as I am of my “obsession” with it being “just right”.

So now I’m here at a crossroads, having made the decision to take my hair back to its roots… metaphorically speaking. I’d originally considered Sisterlocks, but that whole complete cutting of hair if I want to change styles thing turned me off. So I’m opting for a press and curl style, where my hair would look no different than when permed, just require more elbow grease and less chemicals to keep it looking up to par. Part of the process involves a periodic trimming of the chemically processed strands (which was about six to seven inches of it) as growth occurs. To start, i had a decision to make: rock a blunt bob (which wasn’t too much shorter than what my hair really was), brave a layered pageboy or dare a feathered pixie. Well, what started as a simple end clip resulted in shedding an inch. Then another. And another. And yet another in my effort to get everything square and even; taking me from nine or ten inches crown to chin/jawline, to five and a half inch bangs and eight and a half inch sides/back.

When I took that first look in the mirror after the scissors ceased their business I wanted to cry. Close to six years of growing gone in a matter of snips. What would my father say? What would be the kid’s reactions? How long would it take and what would I have to do to get it that length again??? And why did I look like a little boy by the head!!!!

Okay so, it was an over reaction of sorts. Not like I’ve never had short hair before. It grows back, and with me not stripping it of its natural oils, texture and strength, it will grow back quicker and healthier than it was before. Once I flat ironed the roots and bent the ends, the cut became more flattering, and I remembered why I liked short styles in the first place — very complimentary to my face shape. *wink* And hey… it even made me look about ten minutes younger than my real age. Can’t beat that with a stick. HA!

I haven’t permed my hair since April Twenty-Sixth and so far I’ve done a fairly good job of maintaining my hair. It will take a whole lot more work to keep up once my new growth becomes substantial, but it’s worth it in the end to be able to say the fullness, health and beauty of my hair will be the work of my own hands, not the aid of alien processes. I’m sure Alberto-Cuerver [maker of Motions] will miss me though, cause I’ve added to their bottom line so much over the years, I should own a small percentage of the company. *lol* But now, my bottom line for beauty will be added to, so it’s aaaaaaaaaaaall good.

Blessed Be…

Idadi

 

Hi Hi!

I figure since I went through all the trouble of organizing this thing (as best I can) and telling people about it, I may as well be courteous enough to post a lil something so the place doesn’t look completely empty. *lol*

For those who do not know, or have not read the intro, my name is Idadi, a name which means totality in Swahili. No, that’s not my “Christian” name… It was given to me a couple years ago and I have since adopted it as my moniker because it fits. My “real” name, for you nosy peeps *lol*, is in the aforementioned intro, in case you really must know. But for purposes of this Blog, Idadi works just fine, so we’ll keep it that way.

I’m no stranger to the world of Blogging, having graduated from Xanga to Vox, where I currently post entries about anything and everything that goes on in the life of me. I could have very well posted my natural entries there but… well… I kinda wanted a separate “house” for those entries, ya know? Somewhere exclusive to the process I am taking to return to my roots (literally), where the topics wouldn’t get lost among meme’s and whatnot. I also wanted to set up a spot where I can rub shoulders with other dedicated journeyer’s and share my experience with those contemplating taking a similar path. Well, since it seems there are a lot of “nappy heads” here at WordPress, what more perfect spot than to lay down stakes, eh?

My hopes for this Blog is for it to become a documentation of my journey to reclaim not just the beauty and strength of my tresses, but a solidified sense of who I AM as I return to an outer state that reflects my inner transitions. I will by no means use this as a pulpit from which to preach the evils of relaxed hair, or how unauthentic one is who choose to go that route. I simply wish to express how the entire experience is going and how I’m processing through it. In addition to sharing, I hope to receive encouraging feedback, advice, tips, and tricks from my fellow journeyer’s, whether you’ve been on the path for years or are just starting out. I understand the natural row isn’t an easy one to hoe, butt I’m sure if there’s enough of us who band together, we can pick our way through the kinks. *smile*

Okay well, I’ve still got a few more features and what not to add here, so I will take my leave of you, wishing you peace and positivity today and always.

Blessed Be…

Idadi