My Hair

“ Okay, we are going to Auntie’s house, Ella will be here shortly. Don't open the door for anyone” My mom said. She finished grabbing her things and went out to hang out with her friends.

“ Okay “ I replied. My sister was sleeping comfortably on my Moms bed. I was so bored and I had been a little sleepy from my mom taking out my twists.

My mind recanted to moments before.

My mom was taking out my braids with a comb and with every pull came a sharp pain from my scalp. I would wince and shift in my chair.

She would snatch me back up and yell “ Be still”.

While doing my hair she would complain and say “ Your hair is so thick I don't know what to do with it” and “ Oh my god it's so rough”

Every time someone else did my hair all I would hear was“ This is going to take all day” “ How did her hair get so thick?” They would pull at my hair and struggle to part it.

We tried perms and my hair was still considered thick by everyone who touched or looked at my hair. They would say that my twin sister had “ good hair” It was less thick and they always wanted to do her hair first. She would be allowed to lay down afterwards while I had to sit up for eight hours watching and waiting. Then they would get to my hair and complain.

I sat and looked at my Mothers mirror. I pulled and took a look at my brown hair. I was so confused as to why everyone thought my hair was such a big deal. It was just hair!

The words NAUGHTY and TOO MUCH flowed through my head. My thoughts raced around my mind and filled me with an unexplainable feeling.

I reached for the scissors and pulled at my hair and began cutting. I cut random patches of hair until I heard my sister stir on the bed. I dropped the scissors and looked at my hair.

Shock and fear took over my body. I cut my hair. It looked a little better. Very uneven but good enough to stop the voice in my head. Whew, the problem is solved, I thought to myself. I laid down and took a nap from the tiring task.

A few weeks later my sister called me out of my room to do my hair for the first day of school.

I was ready to show off my new haircut. I plopped on the pillow placed on the ground. My sister took out the rubber band holding my hair. She began to toss my hair and she separated my hair into parts. She suddenly stopped and let out a gasp.

“ Who cut her hair?” She exclaimed.

Chills shot through my body. She did not sound as happy as I had hoped.

She jumped up, shot me a confused look, and opened my Mom's door.

I jumped up from my seat in a panic. I hope I don't get into trouble, I thought.

I heard a few whispers from my mom's room. She stormed out and gave me a stern look.

“ Sit down” My Mom yelled. I walked over to her slowly and sat down with tears building up in my eyes.

She looked at my hair sectioned and began yelling. It was not a good thing. She yelled at all seven of my siblings to find the culprit. When none of them fessed up, she stomped her way towards me, bent down, and looked me in the eye.

“ Did you cut your hair? “ She asked.

“ Yes,” I said. I couldn't hold the tears, I sobbed hard and loud.

“ Why, would you do that? “ My mom said.

My siblings walked out of their rooms and watched me and my Mom. They thought she was going to get the belt.

“ I'm sorry, I was trying to help,” I said in between my tears. I explained to her the way I felt about my hair and how hard it was to hear everyone talk about my hair including her.

She broke her gaze and shot me a glare.

“That’s so stupid. You are too young to be cutting your hair” She yelled at me. She began to ramble about how I was wrong and nobody made me feel that way. I was confused when she said I just want to be grown.

I lowered my head until she finished. She sent me to my room and I laid in bed and continued to cry. I was so confused about why she was mad.

On the ride to school the next day my Mom barely spoke to me. I wore my hair in a ponytail today, it felt less full than usual but I still paid it no mind.

When we got to school I tried to forget last night's incident. My classmates on the other hand were just getting started.

I walked in late and everyone looked at me. I looked for my friend and sat beside her.

“Hey Sasha,” I said. She looked at me with shock.

” What, “ I asked her roughly. I did not have time for any mess today.

“ Mary… what happened to your hair?” She asked while looking straight at my hair.

“ I did a cut, you like?” I said and gave her a gentle shove.

“ No… It’s not even, I don't think it looks good” Sasha said. She looked like she felt bad for me. She was very blunt but that hurt. She cut her eyes away from me and began doing her work.

“Oh,” I said. I couldn't help but have my eyes fill up with tears again.

I tried not to bring attention to myself.

It didn't help that there were only two black people in the whole classroom. During a mini class break, the students in the class went into action.

At first, one or two people walked up to me and pulled at my hair. I winced at their hand movements through my hair. Then more came.

“ Your mom let you do this to your hair?” They asked when I shamefully told them I cut my hair myself.

" You look funny, like a boy!" One student said.

"You look ugly now" They would giggle. Each giggle stabbed at me.

“ Wow it looks even more naughty,” They said. The comments just kept coming. I was stunned in embarrassment. What gave them the right to judge me I thought. I was fuming after the Teacher joined in on poking the display. My thoughts began running again and I felt awful. Sasha was sitting beside me laughing with the others. My tears were at the brink of falling.

It was only a five-minute break but it felt like forever. I was so happy when that class was over. I dreaded going back to class with my hair this way. In middle school, I felt so hopeless.

When class was over I ran out and walked straight out of those middle school doors. The sun hit my smooth melanin skin and I walked forward. I was surprised to see that no security was outside. I walked and thought about everything. I felt like I could do nothing right. All of their comments ran through my head as I sat on the bench and thought about how I wished I wasn’t me.

As I get older, I'm not going to lie… My hair journey is still hard. As a Black Woman, I am still constantly criticized about my hair. Whether I am at work, school, or at home.

When I turned twenty I decided to transition my hair into Locs. I did this to avoid rude comments and honestly have less maintenance. Today, I am loving the journey and still learning to love my hair.

It's my hair and I don't care what you think... kind of.