We call it, "going natural" when it is really just being ourselves.
When an acquaintance made the choice to stop straightening her hair and went in to work one day, it came as quite a surprise to the people at her job site.
"Rose, are you okay?" Her coworkers at the local department store thought she had suddenly become depressed. She came to work without her usual straight-haired ponytail. Her hair was out. Big and fluffy and nappy. "Did you get up late or something?" Rose told me she just looked at them and said, "What?". She shrugged her shoulders, clocked in and began her day on the floor.
Going natural. It is a weird term to me. I was a child of the sixties, and the Afro was the standard for cultural connection and identification. I wore Afro puffs, and my aunts and uncles donned beautifully coiffed halos of curls of all textures: Kinky, curly, or coiled, everyone looked like the Jackson 5, Earth Wind and Fire or the Brothers Johnson. And if it was not out, it was braided into cornrows that gave to us the pride of our royal ancestry. Black was beautiful.
Then Bo Derek and MTV came along, and somewhere in between that, things got twisted...
It was not that Black people had not been straightening their hair; there was relaxer and the press 'n' curl...but suddenly, it became possible to do something else that was once not accessible to everyone: You were now able to sew or braid hair into your own head. The game changed. If it was possible for sistas to be nappy one day and straight the next already, now they could become someone totally different. You could not only be Angela Davis and Diahann Caroll, but you could also be Cher, Liza Minelli...and a blonde like Marsha Brady. And we bought it... hook, line and sinker for prices that would fill a kitchen pantry.
But, like Rumplestiltskin says, "All magic comes with a price."
1. Are we addicted to having our hair extended so much so that many of us look at our natural selves in the mirror and resent who we are? Some people have told me, " I look ugly without my hair straightened." Our short, coarse, curly locks have became a minor inconvenience that can be remedied by a trip to the salon.
2. With this addiction comes what is known as Traction Alopecia. That is when your hair falls out, because it is being pulled back, braided or woven or glued. It is dyed, fried and laid to the side so much that after a while, you are bald. I have seen women still wearing braids, weaves and ponytails even after this has happened; bald around the front, and all this hair, attached some kind of way, to the back of their heads. What are they thinking?!! I'd like to know...
3. This obsession (because that's what it is) blinds us to questioning where all of this hair comes from:
Where does it come from?!
a. Temples in India, where people shave their heads in tribute to their Gods. I'll just let that sit for a minute for us to contemplate on how many levels of wrong that really is.
b. From shop floors in Asia ... mainly China. Once again...contemplating.
c. And also from China: Goats. The hair comes from goats. Hmm.
Ummm...I am going to leave it right. There.
Check out this post written by Arielle Loren on www.clutchmagonline.com:
My daughter finally took out her braids. I was becoming afraid that she had become dependent on having the long, silky, locks in her head. It had been such a long time from when she last had her natural hair out, and my begging her was only met with explanations for her keeping them in longer. As a mother, I braided her hair, but also noticed how much her natural hair needed care. It needed to be on its own. She finally spent the day, pulling each blonde lock out, one by one. And I let my hair out in solidarity. She was happy, unbound and relieved. And absolutely, amazingly beautiful. I looked in the mirror and saw...just me and my baby, liberated and comfortable. And we were okay with that.
I still wear a ponytail to work, since I am in a leadership position and my hair is still many different textures due to transitioning. But anywhere else, it's out. Free and unashamed.
I got some looks, though. One man stared me down so hard, that I just stared and smiled back at him. An African American lady looked at me and rolled her eyes ...wow. That is a whole other discussion. A lot of history was behind the oddity in that brief exchange. In contrast, all of my friends on Facebook applauded my step forward. Some even messaged me suggestions on how to care for my new curls. It felt good to be celebrated for me being just me.
So, for now, I am conflicted with weaving someone or something else's hair into my head. Yet, I am not ashamed of who I am as a Black woman, and still enjoy the variety of changing my look every now and then. I wish there were a more sustainable and ethical way of buying human hair; one that could benefit the people who "cultivate" it as well as the people who buy it. Until then, I will choose my protective styles in an intelligent and discerning way. Because Zlateh, you're a billy goat, and I'm just not into sharing my scalp with you. Sorry, Boo.
Thinking about going natural? What would it take for you make that change? What is keeping you from taking the step? Would you do a "big chop", or just let things take their course? Share your comments below!
