Those that grew up with me know I was all about my hair.
Pounds and pounds of hair.
I got my first relaxer against my will at 4 years old and though I envisioned death
coming for me as I sat in the salon chair, scalp on fire, fingers clawing at the chair – I got home and swished my new straightened pounds and pounds of hair in front of my friends.
Fast forward to my freshman year of high school and I decided that I wanted to rock the natural look. I lasted 4 months before crawling back to the salon.
Then by some blessed miracle my hair started to grow faster and longer and I was swishing that stuff all over during dance team performances. (Holla T-ettes!)
But then came college where I was not only separated from my hair stylist of 8 years but my minimum wage paychecks that paid for my $70 hair trips.
Amongst all the newly and always natural black women around my campus and the city, I decided to give it a second try.
One full year later – I finally chopped off my straight locks.
Shout out to Nancy for filming/ keeping me from running away.