Learning to Love my Asian Hair

My hair is not straight. It is not wavy; it is not curly. It refuses to be defined.

Coarse and heavy, prone to dryness, especially at the ends, my hair has always vexed me. It will take conditioner, but only so much, or else it is weighed down. It will also take color, but that requires harmful lightening and a tremendous amount of time. Over the years, my hair has wreaked havoc on anything in its path. It has defeated the best vacuums on the market. The shower drain is powerless against it.

As a kid of Chinese ancestry growing up in the late 80s and early 90s, I didn’t see much Asian representation on television or in movies. Even spotting a brunette on TV could prove difficult. White, blonde women with blue eyes and suntans were the ideal, and there wasn’t much space for anyone else.

The hair styles represented in popular culture were never attainable for me, and for a long time, that mattered. I envied Alyssa Milano’s bouncy brunette waves on “Who’s the Boss,” and Tiffani-Amber Thiessen’s gravity-defying bangs on “Saved by the Bell.” I had all the tools necessary to create the looks that were cool at the time—the straightener, the crimping iron, the mousse, the Aqua Net—but not the hair texture to make them work. Any attempts at curling or adding height would result in only brief success before my hair would inevitably rebel.

As a young woman, I had many well-intentioned hair stylists who approached my head with optimism. “There’s so much to work with here!” they would say. Jennifer Aniston’s style on “Friends” was all the rage. First, it was the layered cut that seemed to swing naturally but never too wildly. Then, it was the completely straight, flat-ironed style that just sort of...hung. Many a stylist would try to recreate the Aniston look on me, proud to send me out the door with a tamed mane. They didn’t know that my hair would devolve into rude frizz or lie limp and greasy once I left the salon.

When I started working office jobs, I felt pressure to look professional. I experimented with an asymmetrical bob that I blow-dried straight, and even highlights after I decided one day that my natural color looked bland under fluorescent lighting. I settled on a longish bob after a few years, which required less maintenance than other styles I had tried. Still, I found myself rubbing an expensive serum between my palms that I would apply to the ends of my hair, which I would then seal with blasts of hot air.

And then, the pandemic hit, and the salons were closed.

For the first time since high school, I had to contend with my hair and its whims without any outside help. I was due for a haircut the week that social distancing restrictions were enacted, so it was already longer than I preferred. Always fast-growing, it seemed to extend exponentially every day.

Left to my own devices, I began nipping the ends with a pair of tiny, extremely sharp scissors, intending to keep it reasonably healthy without disturbing the overall shape and style. During this time, I also began working from home. I let my hair dry naturally most days since I was no longer rushing out the door in a suit every morning.

I was surprised by what came next: my hair looked fantastic. I did not fuss with it—no product other than shampoo and conditioner. I ran through it with a wide-toothed comb before bed, but that was it. My hair was permitted to grow and run free, as it always wanted.

At first, the significant length was disconcerting. I’d been wearing it just above my shoulders, so having hair that reached the middle of my back was an adjustment. But I looked in the mirror and was happy with what I saw.

Now, my hair is well-cared for, with cuts every six weeks like clockwork. I still wear it long, and I’ve accepted that it will probably look different every day because I’m no longer hellbent on controlling it. I’m now much more confident in my appearance.

Fine, white strands are starting to show in my brown locks. These newcomers are soft, delicate, and calm. This is what I have to look forward to.