It’s ruined when WET- Writer’s Workshop

I sat in Mrs. Vet’s chair wincing as the hot comb came dangerously close to my ear. I was at the beauty salon getting my hair straightened. Hours upon hours sitting and waiting for it to finally be my turn then shivering in fear of being burned by the hot comb. When she finished, she spun me around in her big black chair so that I could see myself in the mirror. My once tightly curled, cotton ball textured hair was long and flowing just like someone in a magazine. For a brief moment, the hours and the fear felt worth it.

Worth it all the way home as my mother scolded me for having the window down cause it would mess up my hair. Totally worth it to walk by Wendy Frazier with my bouncing flowing hair. Wendy had what the black community would call “good hair”. Good hair is manageable, silky, “wet and go”. Without Mrs. Vet, I did not have what anyone would call “good hair”. Worth it, to hear my Daddy tell me how beautiful I looked.

So NOT worth it, when my cousin came by and asked if I could go swimming. “Yes, Yes, Yes”, I squealed. “No, No, No” my mother huffed. “You just got your hair done. If you get your hair wet, it will be ruined”. “I will just put on my suit and NOT get my hair wet I pleaded”. “Ok, but if you get your hair wet, it will stay like that”. My mother warned.

My cousin and I ventured off to the pool. What fun! I couldn’t swim anyway, so not getting my hair wet should have been easy. Things worked out quite well until I got a little too happy and missed a step walking into the pool. Splash, splish. My beautiful curls were gone. At first it wasn’t so bad my hair was just wet. “It will dry just like before.” I kept telling myself. But when my hair dried, it WAS ruined, just like my mother said. The beautiful curls were gone and a puffy dry afro remained. Nobody told me I looked beautiful. In fact, a few boys pointed at me and laughed.

From that day on, I have gone to all kinds of great lengths to tame my puffy, dry, afro hair. I have chemically straightened, run from the rain, not gone swimming, stayed at the hair salon for over 8 hours, skipped working out, and feverishly prayed for God to change my hair texture all because, when it gets wet, “it’s ruined”. It has taken me 36 years to make peace with my hair.

I have had the opportunity to start a new tradition with my daughters. Both of them wear their hair in “natural non-straightened” styles. I have stressed to them that nothing is wrong with coarse, kinky, curly hair. I know from experience that little brown girls just like me all over the world are taught very subtle messages about their hair texture, from the media and from their own communities. These messages chip away at their self-esteem.

I must admit, old habits are hard to break. I got caught in the rain the other day and my inner voice said,” Your hair will be ruined”. I just smiled and said, “No it won’t, it will just be wet”.

The older I get, the more “over” the whole hair thing I get. I keep telling my husband that I am going to cut it all off and be FREE!

Until then I just keep listening to the song “I am not my hair” by India Aire. The chorus reads: I am not my hair, I am not this skin, I am the soul that lives within. Amen sista!

1 Peter 3:3-4 (New Living Translation)

Don’t be concerned about the outward beauty of fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. 4 You should clothe yourselves instead with the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.