In the name of hair


I had a love-hate relationship and it started when I was young, every Sunday night with tears down my face I would have to sit on stool while getting my canerows/braids down, this was 30 odd years age when cornrows was not in fashion, fashion was not my mine concern, it was dry scalp, tangled knots and length of time it take for mum to finish.
The day come when I was allowed to style my own hair which means no more braids or canerows, there were 2 clauses in the agreement no DRYING and no RELAXING! I was happy to oblige and for the next 4/5 year I wear my hair in a ponytail, this was a lazy happy period apart from the fact I really wanted silky straight hair instead of the thick curly hair I had.
The next 8 years was want the nightmare begins, back and forth with relaxing, hair breaking, weaves, single braids, spending a whole day waiting for a hairdresser to turn up, not ordering enough hair and burning my scalp, yes all of this just to have nice hair.
I now settled on single braids, the colour  1b in winter and 2 in the summer, a hairdresser who is reliable; every few months I rock the natural look with little twists out.  It has taken me a long time to love and appreciate my afro hair, not to feel pressure to have fit in or lived up to society idea of beauty.
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