Curls, Frizz & Tears
I sat in the leather chair for three hours, smelling the sweet aroma of burnt hair, and the salon lady’s strawberry shortcake perfume. Mama had told me that this would be the greatest birthday gift I would ever receive. The follicular patterns which belonged to my Egyptian ancestors would be chemically erased - as if God had heard my prayers all along. In forty two minutes I would be gifted with a head that screamed “smooth & sleek”; a marketable scalp fit for Pantene commercials and magazine covers. After 12 years of hiding behind tight and frizzy buns, headbands that brought headaches, and ponytails that were tugged back by my mother- I would finally be liberated from the tragedy that is having curly hair.