I've always wanted to get up and wash my hair and go to school, to have it a part of my daily routine. Yet because of my genetic make up, that has never been a reality. I have had a relaxer for as long as I can remember, most of my life. Anybody with a relaxer knows you can't possibly wash your hair every day and have it look decent. So I have never had the opprotunity for "wash and wear" hair (like most black girls), I had to wait 4-6 weeks until I had someone else washed my hair (along with deep conditioning it, blow drying it and flat ironing it).
It's safe to say that in the past I had had my hair washed by others my than I have my own self.
Not anymore.
It all started four months ago when I got a relaxer before going to my family reunion. I felt the same way I always did about having my hair relaxed: decent, grateful, and in some way dissatisfied because my hair never exactly set right after the first night of wrapping it. Anyway...I spent the day way back up in thewoods of hot, humid ass Bethel Springs Tennessee. Humidity and relaxed hair are the worst combination you can think of! My relaxer and flat iron that is supposed to last for four weeks had turned into a straight mess by 10 o'clock that night! $55 of wasted relaxer, yall know I was pissed!
On the way back to Omaha I knew that I would have to get my hair relaxed again before school started, it was a tradition. Weeks passed and I kept telling myself to set that damned appointment.
But I never did.
Something in me would'nt surrender to seven hours of a hot, loud, ghetto-ass, boring beauty shop whose beautician had a habit of talking on the phone while she was perming your hair and would leave you under the dryer for three of those seven hours.
The first day of school came and I wore my hair in a ponytail. It was a cute one though, I had a side swept bang and all. After weeks of caked gel and detangling spray, my hair was starting to look a little rough.
It was time for me to wash my hair.
This feat has never been an easy one for me. Washing my hair in the past had required various bottles of shampoos, conditioners, wrapping mouse, and a reliable blow dryer. So that weekend I preceeded to wash my hair like I had always done. After I was done washing it, I drenched it in setting/wrap lotion (whatever the hell it is!) and started to blow dry my hair while simultaneously combing it out. 2 hours of that plus an extra hour of beating my semi-straight afro into an "acceptable" ponytail had left me feeling less than beautiful.
My craving of shampoo had led me to feel ugly as it had so many times before.
I kept thinking to myself "You just had to wash your damned hair!" and "What were you thinking of?!".
But time went on as it always does and I was at the point were I had to was my hair again.
This time I was so teriffied that I would have another fucked up afro that I took a new approach to washing my hair.
This time I didn't scrub my hair all over my head like always, instead, I washed it back in a smooth motion.
This time I alternated between lathering and combing my hair.
This time I combed my hair out while it was wet.
This time I gelled it back into a wet meticulously brushed ponytail.
This time I left my blowdryer in my bathroom drawer.
What happened next shocked the hell out of me.
My hair and dried into a neat ponytail with waves and curls. My hair was not unruly. My hair was feathery but thick. My hair smelled wonderful, not like an old, hot Sears blowdryer. I loved my hair.
I said I loved MY hair.
I repeated this wonderful Saturday routine for weeks on end. Sometimes I would even wash my hair two-three times per week, something I would have never dreamed of. I was getting my fill of my old longing for shampoo. I was experiencing what it's like to have you hair smell like fresh shampoo anytime you want. Sure it takes me a little more time but I still like the fact that I have the choice to wash or not wash.
I don't think I ever want to have my hair relaxed again for the simple fact that I felt so trapped by my hair. That "creamed crack" was telling me what I could and could not do to my own damned hair and I hated it. That creamy white poison made my hate my hair and ultimatly myself.
Sure, I have my days were I get tired of struggling through my curly-kinky hair but it's mine! I don't feel like a phony every time I walk in a room full of black and white people alike. I don't carry around a little plastic comb to make sure my hair isn't sticking up in the back. I'm not constantly in the mirror checking to see if I have fly aways.
I can't let go of the freedom of choice I have without my relaxer. Somthing as simple as shampoo has allowed my to feel 1000x better about myself and for that, I'm eternally grateful.
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