Da Kink in my hair

My title was actually stolen from a rather poorly performed Canadian-Carribean series that use to be on television, because it just seemed to express exactly what I wanted. I know there is always a debate going on somewhere about the issue of African women and their hair, it is always a topic that attracts a lot of emotive sometimes downright angry responses. I am an African woman and when I was growing up, I couldn’t wait to be older so that I can have silky soft flowing chemicalised hair like my older female counterparts. For me it was the epitome of beauty, and at that time the vision of salon-finish curls on treated hair represented ultra chic. Sure enough when I grew just old enough off I went to subject my hair to the rigors of the chemical regime, relaxers, retouches, sets, blow drying etc. for 8 whole years out of my life. Rain was public enemy number 1 and don’t even dare talk to me about getting into the shower without layers of protective gear over my precious hair. I never liked weaves so for the most part I was either squirming as the potent sting of Dark and Lovely fried up my hair, or under the hood of a hairdryer covering my ears so that they are not scalded by the intense heat. This was a regular routine, and even when I was a struggling law student in Uni I always had some money to get my hair done up. I will be honest and say that the initial push factors for stopping the treatment madness were that I was absolutely revolted by the smell of relaxers and the hairdryer was just sheer agony for me. So after 8 years of such hard work, I decided to embark on the transitioning journey. When my real hair reemerged something else happened to me. I felt liberated, I felt honest to myself. The one reason why I had never liked weaves is because I just don’t get how Caucasian looking hair is supposed to merge with the chocolate brown of my skin. I embraced my precious kinky hair and welcomed it with a fierceness that surprised even me. For a while I tried out dreadlocks, my conscience was clear with them because I knew there was nothing artificial about them, my hair never changed its structure and form. However I am back to my afro now, and I couldn’t be happier. Don’t get me wrong, I do love looking great, I am as influenced by fashion trends as the next woman, but only to the extent of the clothes on my back, don’t mess with the fro! I am not trying to send out some desperate plea to be recognized as a black woman to whomever, but I am simply expressing the true me. This is the person I want to see when look in the mirror; this is the person who gives me confidence and self –assurance. I am not judgmental to my sisters who choose to wear their hair differently and when I compliment them on their hairstyles I am not faking, I am being sincere. It looks great on them but it is not for me. I am in love with the kink in my hair and contrary to one of my fav artist’s statement India Irie, I AM MY HAIR!