Tags

, , , ,

     Going natural is not for whiners. For me, it required adopting a hardcore attitude to endure months of teasing and complaints from family and friends. It was enough to make me want to rip them a “new one” from Mississippi to Minnesota.     One of my sisters nicknamed me “Don King” after the boxing promoter because of my afro’s grey streak. As the youngest of eight children, this new nickname didn’t come close to being the worst moniker my sisters and brothers have ever given me.

     In some instances, my mother led the charge with the teasing, and she still wears a Jheri Curl. For women of my mother’s generation, my natural hair was associated with “bad hair.”  In mother’s opinion, how could I want this kind of hair when a relaxer, also known a ‘creamy crack,” could give me silky and straight hair for several weeks? By her way of thinking, the better choice was obvious, and I was just being rebellious.

     So, let me be clear. I didn’t go natural as a way to give society the proverbial middle finger, I didn’t go natural because I was “down for any cause,” and I didn’t go natural because I hated relaxers.  In fact, I don’t have anything against sisters who chemically straighten their hair and/or wear weaves. In my opinion, it’s your hair whether it’s straight or curly, whether you grow it on your own or whether it’s “cash and carry.”  I say, “Lean with it, roll with it, and rock your hair, ladies!”

     I went natural because my hair and scalp showed all the signs of being “played out” by “creamy crack.” My hair was constantly shedding despite getting regular trims and deep conditioners. Even though my scalp was recovering from a bad relaxer by a former stylist, I still had small bald patches. As I have always listened to my body when something was wrong, I decided to listen to my hair. I stopped getting relaxers. Going natural was more than a hair choice; it was a soul choice.

     Even my stylist, who is an advocate of healthy hair, couldn’t prepare me for the shock of seeing my God-given natural hair sprout up beneath my relaxed ends. How do you welcome natural hair that you haven’t seen since your early 20’s?  “Hello, Curls,” hardly seemed appropriate. As I transitioned from relaxed to natural hair, my stylist cut-off the relaxed ends. I never got the so-called “big chop.”

     I quickly learned that I wasn’t ready for the maintenance and styling of my natural hair. I had been addicted to “creamy-crack” for so long that I’d forgotten how to take care of my own hair. My stylist straightened my hair using a flat iron and a blow dryer, but I wasn’t a fan of the heat. Consequently, she and I agreed to keep my hair in a medium-sized afro or coils, but I soon became frustrated with my hair for another reason. I was constantly combating dryness, frizz, and breakage because the products that I’d used on my relaxed hair didn’t work on my natural hair.

     I had a difficult time finding the right products for my hair at local beauty supply stores. Clerks often showed me products for locking my hair even though I wasn’t interested in them. I even visited different salons and asked about products for natural hair. Well, I might as well have announced that I’d escaped from the zoo by the looks that I received from some stylists. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want a hairdo. The message was clear: “we can’t help you and get out.” I shouldn’t have been surprised, really, I shouldn’t have been. Where I live in the South isn’t exactly the mecca for natural hair. There are churches on nearly every street corner, not salons. It’s about saving souls, not hair where I live.

     I turned to my sister Joan, who is a stylist in the Washington, DC area, for help. She gave me some good advice on how to combat the dryness and frizz, but she refused to listen to my whining. Instead, she gave me a lesson in “hair-economics.” She told me salons were just like any other business, catering to their base. For example, a salon that targeted a multi-racial clientele would offer a wider variety of products and services to care for different hair types. She also reminded me that salons and stylists were in the business of staying current with trends, and eventually they would have to adjust their business model unless they wanted lose their clients and money.

     While my sister’s information was comforting, it didn’t change my predicament. I did try salons with a more diverse clientele. I did find some okay products, and some good stylists. However, there was always something lacking, such as limited knowledge about natural hair.

     I was done. After nearly 20 months, I was back in my original stylist’s chair ordering up a side “creamy crack and hold the burn.” My stylist tried to stop me, telling me that I would regret it if I relaxed my hair, but I was frustrated, tired, and just doggone mad because my natural hair journey hadn’t gone as I had planned.

     Even worst than being a whiner, I was a quitter.