Growing up as a mixed little girl in the deep south, my hair was straightened every 6 to 8 weeks (or as often as my mother could afford it). The process was very painful. The longer the chemical would stay in, the straighter your hair. My sister and I would complain in the salon chair and my mom would tell us, "It hurts to be beautiful." Often the process resulted in chemical scalp burns and the thinning of our hair. However, walking fresh out of the salon, family members and friends would coo and remark on how nice my hair looked. "You look like a white girl" was often a phrase meant as a compliment. "You have that good hair" was another comment. The less you wet your hair, the longer the straightener would last. Opportunities to workout and sweat, even chances to swim, were met with the question, Do I want to enjoy this at the risk of my hair? Not only was this beautification ritual painful, it raised the question, "Why do I have to do this painful thing to myself so that I can be beautiful?"
Because the straightened hair wasn't the natural state of my hair, nature would take its course and week by week, I would touch the roots of my scalp, feeling the course texture urging its way out. My self-esteem over this 6 - 8 week cycle went something like this:
Because the straightened hair wasn't the natural state of my hair, nature would take its course and week by week, I would touch the roots of my scalp, feeling the course texture urging its way out. My self-esteem over this 6 - 8 week cycle went something like this:
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