My Childhood Memories Of Hair

Decent Essays
“Hush” haunts the memories of my childhood. It was an unconscious apology whispered after chunks of my hair were ripped out, and my head was left sore. Hours have been spent sitting between my mother’s legs as she dragged combs through what felt like an endless knot, each strand unhappy unless it was tangled with another. Beauty standards ingrained in my mind from a young age left me wanting hair like the girls I looked up to on TV, girls like Lilo and Hannah Montana. The first time I felt like I saw myself on television was when I watched the Proud Family and saw Penny, an ambivert, battling mean girls in her school, and struggling to find herself in a world that tried to dictate who she should be. Just like any other little girl I wanted
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