Personal Narrative: Accepting My Hair

I went to preschool and always felt like the outcast but now I know I was different in my own little way.I started 1st grade scared out of my mind of what was to come but little did I know I would have a bunch of friends that would always have my back.

I enjoy this feild/trade so much and would love to spend the rest of my working days making people more beautiful than they already are. Being able to make a difference in someone’s life is my goal. Changing your hair can be life changing. Your hair is you, it is who you are. It helps people identify you and it makes

At first, everyone’s hair is clean and orderly. On the first page of the story, the status of their hair is immediately noted: “His hair was plastered

true beauty my hair can bring to me (no I am not my hair- India Arie) but I have

I don’t know about you, but when I was a little girl, I would always walk around the house and picture how I might look when I was finally ALL GROWN UP... Well, that ‘look’ that I had in my head, almost always consisted of some style of curls, adorning my cinnamon brown skin.

When I was 10- 12 years old I begged my mother to let me get a perm. She denied my request daily. On my 13th birthday she took me to the beauty shop and told me, I was getting a perm. I screamed so loud. You would’ve thought I had won the lottery. The reason why I wanted a perm was because every one of my friends at my school had one too. After a year or so of having a perm and getting them touched up, I told my mom that my hair started to come out. She instantly decided to let the perm grow out and stop there. I then started doing them myself the older I got, until one day my hair started to fall out again. I started doing research on healthy hair for black women. I came across articles about other women hair falling out because of perms. I started to notice my hair was so uneven and different textures and such, I became so intrigued in the topic I decided to do study this more seriously. It almost was my after school job. My junior year of high school, I decided to perform the “big chop” on my hair. Which is where a woman cuts out all of the damage hair and start from scratch. My friends turned on me, and I was an outsider for that next year. But I had the support of my family. I stuck with it from then to present day. This item represents my adolescence because it taught me so much about myself, which has still been a leading cause in my life even now. I have been natural since 2009 and I do not regret my decision at

hairstyles through the past few years, ranging from long dark curls cascading down my back, to

It may be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always this bald and beautiful. I, like many other young men, was a victim of a vicious receding hairline. Me being so young, I fell victim to a plethora of cruel jokes, I mean let’s face it, not many sixteen-year-old girls swoon over a young boy with the hairline like their fathers. I was constantly ragged on by family, friends, strangers, and anyone else with a working pair of eyes. Thus, I grew to be very self-conscious about my hairline, or lack thereof. Then that all changed one day with a mirror and a razor. Looking back at it, I can’t help but laugh and smile when I think about the days when all I wanted was a full head of hair.

I didnt even know what i was doing honestly. At the moment it just felt right. Like it was something that i had to do. I couldn't go to school looking any kind of way. So i had to do what i could in order to give off a look of denial. None knew what my life was like and i wasn't going to expose it in any way. I started rough with using clippers. i didn't know anything about fades, and designing and trimming. Even though i was outstanding in art, it was difficult to create or design a human being's head. I took what i knew about art and used it to my best ability.

There was an air of confidence to my step as I strutted along the sidewalk. Embracing change is something I’m accustomed to, be it moving house or changing dress, it was normal. But, I had never before imagined myself donning a weave, let alone enjoying it. It was a defining moment. I loved my afro, as a natural hair enthusiast should, but I had succumbed to the faux hair craze, and it felt good. My friends had often associated wearing a weave with a feeling of independence and respect, for yourself and from others around you, but I had a different view. I had found a new

When I was 13, I decided to grow out my pageboy style. This decision was not difficult (but unfortunately for me, not timely). I decided this after looking at my seventh grade yearbook picture. I was smiling into the camera. My hair was pointing in five different directions from my head, screaming "I wanna be a star!!"

change our hair color so we can change our look. We have many reasons why we do these things.

The new year inspired me to choose my hairstyle. I was tired of the same hairstyle and wanted a new look. Not Your Mother's Dry Shampoo and coconut oil is some of my favorite products to use in my hair. My mom has a cosmetology license so she does my hair. The next hairstyle i'm going to try is to grow it out and style it in waves.”

Mama always had a love-hate relationship with my hair. If she was around me all the time, she’d comb and gel my black curly hair into an unpredictable shape, whatever she wanted. It almost always became a frizzy, tangled mess. I never liked her hair styling but I finally learned not to argue with Mama. I liked my hair like I like my food: simple. No need to add anything, or spend more money. My mama didn’t see it like that.

My hair has always been curly. When I was a small baby, my hair was black, thin, and there was TONS of it. It was quite the mess for my mother to handle, so she often just brushed it after my bath or let my hair go crazy on its own. Now that I am 17, bad habits have been formed, and I am currently working on demolishing them. I am trying to nourish my curls back to good health; after all, they have been through a lot. They went through the classic, middle school phase which consists of frying my hair with an overheated straightener every day. My historically luscious curls also went through a seven-hour salon session of bleaching, and barely survived the phase of putting my hair in tight buns on the top of my head. Needless to say, my hair is damaged, broken, and hurting. Getting it back to healthy, beautiful, and happy hair is going to be the biggest challenge of my lifetime.