Website design By BotEap.comI have curly hair.

Website design By BotEap.comWhen I was a child, my hair was a bother. It tangled easily and I hated that my mother made me sit still for what seemed like hours so she could comb it. The comb tangled and tugged at my scalp, bringing tears to my eyes and howls of protest. Worse still, the strangers we put out on the street wanted to run their fingers through my hair. I still hate my kindergarten teacher because she combed my curls with her fingers every morning when I came to class. I became very good at hiding behind other children when we walked through the door, in an attempt to avoid their piercing eyes.

Website design By BotEap.comWhen I was a teenager, my curly hair was the nightmare of my existence. I desperately wanted long silky straight hair like my friends. They wore shoulder-length bobs that seemed to float in the wind, silky locks of (mostly) blonde beauty that I coveted with my whole being. Or they pulled their hair back in soft ponytails that bounced gracefully with each step they took.

Website design By BotEap.comMy hair was a mess of thick curls, each strand doing what it wanted to do: bouncing in a direction I had no control over. At one point, I grew a ponytail, pulling it back as straight as I could, holding my breath and clenching my teeth against the pain as I pulled the strands back as hard as I could. I wanted bangs like my friends, so I would smooth out drops of hair product on my bangs, tape them to my forehead, and stick them in place with the hair dryer. When I removed the tape, the bangs stayed where they were, thick strands of dark brown spaghetti stuck to my forehead.

Website design By BotEap.comBut oh! In an hour, the first hairs would start to escape from the ponytail, falling in curly spirals down my cheeks. By mid-morning, more curls were attached to them, some opting for the head up, down or the other way. When I sat down to lunch, the glue from my bangs gave way and bounced up to join the rest of my curly mop. When I finally cut the ponytail and went back to a curly bob, my friends sighed in relief and told me that I looked so much better.

Website design By BotEap.comWhen I was a young adult, not only did I embrace my curly hair, but I learned to enjoy it for the easy care it provided. I kept it short and called it “wash and wear” hair. I even began to enjoy the compliments I received from other women for my easy-care hair. Then I gave birth to a daughter who was born with red curls. When the nurse brought her to me, she had tied a blue ribbon around some of the top curls and she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful girl in the nursery. I forgot about my first fight with my curls and was unprepared when she reached adolescence and began the same odyssey that I had endured.

Website design By BotEap.comLike me, she struggled against her curls and worked even harder than I did to try to tame her hair and force it into the long, straight styles of her classmates. And like me, she was a young adult before she realized how beautiful her strawberry blonde curls were and began to allow the curls to cascade over her shoulders in a natural way that, to this day, elicits words of admiration from friends, family and strangers. .

Website design By BotEap.comAnd now he has a daughter, our granddaughter, who turned eight last week. And yes, he has curly hair and yes, he hates it. However, our granddaughter (“S”) is part African American so her curls are tighter than her mother and grandmother’s and her hair has a different texture. It tangles very easily and is difficult to style. And, you guessed it, she desperately wants long, straight shoulder-length hair!

Website design By BotEap.comMy daughter has brought “S” to the salon several times in an attempt to get her hair combed, but the experience has ended with “S” crying and her hair still tangled. Finally, my daughter took her to a salon that specializes in styling African-American women’s hair, and for her birthday, she had a date at the store. And they invited me.

Website design By BotEap.comFirst, the stylist had to get rid of the knots. This was a long and arduous process that involved taking a small lock of hair one at a time, spraying it with water and lotion, and carefully detangling tangles. It took an hour and there were times when we wondered if she could finish, but in the end, she proved to be a pastor, sitting in the chair with a look of determination on her face. The stylist then styled her hair with conditioner and made her sit under the dryer for thirty minutes. The next step was a shampoo. Finally, the stylist blow-dried her hair and then used a hot iron to straighten it, one small section at a time. By then, we had been in the store for three hours!

Website design By BotEap.comBut the result was amazing. “S” slid out of the chair and looked at herself in the mirror. His hair was smooth and silky almost to his shoulders. When she turned her head, her hair swayed with her. It was the hair that she, her mother, and her grandmother had always dreamed of having. I couldn’t stop looking at her new hairstyle in the mirror and I didn’t blame her. Who are you and what have you done with my granddaughter? Asked.

Website design By BotEap.comOf course it won’t last. The first bath, the first shampoo and the curls will return. She will be disappointed and will eventually have to decide if she can accept the curls or if she will learn to use the hot iron and will be willing to take the time to keep her hair straight. However, I think she is beautiful no matter how she wears her hair. But I also know that she has to figure this out herself.

Website design By BotEap.comOne great thing I learned during my afternoon at the hair salon was how many hours African American women must spend to wear their hair in a straight style. I saw several other women who were in the store with us (and were still there when we left) go through processes like my granddaughter getting her hair straightened. And I realize that they will repeat the process again in two weeks or a month. I have a new appreciation when I see African American women with straight hair and wonder what I would do if my hair was this curly. I also wonder about women, all of us, and our battles with our hair! And for that, I have no answers. I just know that I love my daughter and my granddaughter and no hairstyle can change that!