After a failed protein treatment I used before I had planned to get my hair braided. Days went by and more and more of my hair was coming out and into my hands. I didn’t lose as much as the first wash, but it was falling out every day since.I have a really full head of head so no one could tell the difference besides myself. But If I ever decided to shave my head I would look like a damn cheetah. I cut off all of my hair which was past my shoulders and natural.
I was in the shower washing my hair. My hair quickly turns brittle after a day or so of leave in conditioner, oil, and Shea butter. My hair was coming out in large amounts with each scalp rub. I had enough. I can wait until all of my hair falls out and be one of those sad chicks with a twa and a few tracks glue on visible to everyone except them. I can be that guy with waist length hair and a bald spot that receded to the tops of his ears. Or I could cut it off. I chose the latter.
I was ten years old when my grandmother cut my hair off it was a few days before fifth grade started and I remember feeling depressed and overwhelmed by this. I knew of no other 10 year olds rocking a s-curl and sleeping with a plastic cap on at night which was very cold and uncomfortable. I slept in one position. On my back. And made sure to spray activator on my hair before I left out for school. I had attended a PWI , so no one was looking at my hair but in the back of my mind it 1997 and I was a step away from a jherri curl. Thank god my mom didn’t want any school photos that year.
However humiliated I felt, by spring my hair was back. Longer than it was before it was cut off.
I had cut my hair off a few times when I was a teenager; but as an adult I have maybe cut my hair three times. The first time was after my ex boyfriend had raped me and I wanted to appear hideous to him and all men, the second was after I felt my edges weren’t keeping up with the rest of my hair, and the third time is now. Every time I had cut my hair everyone had a reaction to it, almost on the verge of tears some were. All asking me the same question: “WHY DID YOU CUT YOUR HAIR?!!” “IT WAS SO PRETTY!!” I always found that to be interesting because the very people who put me down about my “Nappy” Hair had revealed it to be beautiful after it was gone?
But today felt different. I didn’t feel ugly when I cut it off; I didn’t cry. I knew I was a beautiful woman and I wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea anyways. I didn’t care what others reaction were to this nor do I care if anyone cares. I didn’t do it out of rebellion, or felt I lost control of my life, or because I wanted to appear unattractive to the opposite sex. I did it because at the end of the day it’s just hair and I will grow it back. It fell out, I cut it.
My hair doesn’t define me or my worth.