Personal Narrative: Learning To Love Your Natural Hair

Chris Rock’s documentary, Good Hair, investigates the notion of what good hair is. Dominant society views good hair as straight or essentially caucasian hair. This is not only problematic to the self-esteem and confidence of black women, but it can also cause black women to appropriate Asian culture. Black women unfortunately take advantage of Asian culture in search of what society believes is good hair. Many black women wear weaves in order to align to what society believes is good hair. However, when they buy this hair, they do not realize what Asians go through. Likewise, Asians who give up their hair do not know where or who this hair will be going to. Thus, this desire for good hair further perpetuates the lack of understanding that black

Hair is a protein filament that grows from follicles found in the dermis and is one of the defining characteristics of mammals. Hair is focused on hair growth, hair types and hair care. Attitudes towards hair, vary widely across different cultures and historical periods, but hair is often used to indicate someone’s personal beliefs,

I wanted to start of the event with this video. I made it a few weeks ago. When I started working on this project I really thought that this was a minority only problem and I wanted to focus on Hispanics because of my Colombian decent. I wanted to honor my roots while embracing my American life style. But it was Monday night, a slow day at a beautiful restaurant overlooking the ocean city somersault bridge and I was polishing glass for my side work and chit chatting with my coworkers. I was specifically talking to a co work. American. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. About 40 years old. I was telling her about my Tuesday plan that was handing out exit surveys at a polling location. She was confused. I said yes the primaries are tomorrow (this was Monday

Growing up as a black female in a white world, it was always difficult for me to balance fitting in with those around me and staying true to my personal beliefs and ideals that often conflicted with those around me. I am from the Dallas suburban city, Frisco, Texas; a city whose majority is white. Growing up most of my friends were white, most of my teachers were white and most of my classmates were white. In my middle school and elementary school years I had absolutely no ties to the black community other than the interaction that I had with my own family. Being detached from the black community led my young self to shamefully look down on the few black students that attended my school. I would look down on them for their grades in school and I would find myself annoyed by their constant loudness and disruption. I would even make snide remarks to my white friends about the black girl students’ natural hair or braids and other protective styles. Not only was I turning against my own people, but I was also forming into a person that I wasn 't designed to be. I would relax my hair and constantly straighten it in order to have it look like my friends’. I became so caught up with trying to fit in with the people around me that I didn’t appreciate and embrace the most amazing part of myself.

On the bathroom counter lays a glossy magazine with a woman wearing a helmet of dark, large, voluptuous curls. The strands of her hair mimic the architecture of a spiral staircase. The woman smiles, smiles, and laughs, and smiles as she settles her dark hand elegantly in her sleek, black mane. Long fingers embrace curls; curls enmesh in long fingers. Reaching up a finger, you lightly stroke a dry, straight lock, feeling brittle ends collide clumsily into one other as they separate like ugly tree branches. You begin to strip, and feel your heart race faster as each article of clothing glides to the cold, tile floor soundlessly. You can do this; you will do this. You reach the shower slowly, laying a shaky hand on the knob. You can do this and you will do this. Your chest is heaving and your heart is pounding and your hand is shaking but you can do this. And you will do this. Your fingers drum along the knob. The tapping is a loud thunder that matches the storm in your chest. Twisting the knob, the shower head begins to rain. Closing your eyes, you step in.

I have been constantly harassed about the way my hair looks and the color of my skin and the way my nose looks. Yes, my dad is black. No, I don't know why my skin is pale. No, I am not albino. Yes, my hair is real. No, do not touch my hair without asking. No, I do not have a perm. Yes, I am aware I have [had] an afro. No, my hairstyle doesn't have anything to do with the 70's funk hairstyle (funk isn't dead, either.) Yes, I can see you taking "sneaky" photos of me. "Albino black kid," "Your hair looks like [insert insulting comparison]," "Wow, you look like "[insert literally ANY person with an afro or remotely big hair]," These things may not seem like harassment, at the time I may not have had said anything about it, but they were one of the leading causes of me hating myself and the way I looked. The general disregard for my appearance continued into high school where the harassment was not as frequent, but still present. I began to neglect my hair as a form of self-neglect of wellbeing due to the low self-esteem. After a while, it turned into a fear that if I cut my hair it would "erase" the only thing I have that helps identify my race. This led to a series of other fears. These fears continued all the way up to a week before I graduated where I decided that I do not need to PROVE my race or look any certain way to please anyone, it is my body and my hair. It had my first actual haircut

Growing up in the small town of Luverne which housed 4,000 people and a graduating high school class of 80 where my class-mates are not just primarily white, but almost 100 percent white I had a skewed view of the world. I didn’t question the system, I never questioned the dress code rules for girls in my school; I never questioned the sex education we received and I didn’t question the lack of female teachers and advisors of color. I was living in a bubble of ignorance. During my time in high school I knew I looked different from my classmates. They had blonde hair straight, blue eyes and skinny bodies. I had brown hair, brown eyes, and a fuller body. During my high school years, I did many things to try to push away my Hispanic culture and

Managing natural hair has three phases: knowing how to protect, wash, and style and moisturize. Everyone has those lazy days when they do not want to do anything with their hair. Many are just tired of the same, boring hairstyles that they are use to. For naturals, using protective hairstyles is a way to escape a fight with your natural

For all of those that have hair, all know how much getting a haircut can do to your appearance. When talking about becoming a barber you ask yourself these simple questions; - Do I really want to cut hair? - Am I willing to take the blame for something you mess up on? - Do I really want to cut kids hair? - Is the pay good enough? - How well do I think I'll be at being barber? - Are my communication, organization, and social skills up to a good point? - Am I willing to go through how ever much college I need to to become a barber? As long as you answered yes to these questions you should have a good chance at becoming a barber if you want to be a barber that bad. Barbers have a huge impact on your appearance because your hair can make

There is no easy way to address this because there are still many of us naturals who are struggling to accept our own hair. Maybe we wish we could change our texture or wish our hair was longer. The fact is, self acceptance is always a work in progress. There will always be something about ourselves we wish we could change and as parents we must take care to ensure that we don’t pass down our insecurities to our kids. The one thing I’m sure of is a child’s ability to sense things that perhaps we haven’t even admitted to ourselves yet, but in helping our kids to love themselves and their hair, we can also achieve enhanced self acceptance.

my hair would look shiny like I just washed it and the curls would be defined my hair would have a soft and fluffy texture this would be the perfect hair day because it is the only time I have ever had my hair look so perfect and having it look like this would make me happy and feel elated my hair would look shiny like I just washed it and the curls would be defined my hair would have a soft and fluffy texture this would be the perfect hair day because it is the only time I have ever had my hair look so perfect and having it look like this would make me happy and feel

First, I must check the roots to make sure that the new growth is straight. If it is not; therefore, we must perm the hair to make it straight. Second, before styling my hair. I must first wash, condition, and blow-dry it. Finally, I curl it, and put spritz, or oil sheen on it to make it shine. Then I use a rake comb to comb out the curls, and style

A young woman from Missouri who grew up on collard greens, cornbread, and fine recipes that any southern woman would come up with, that girl is not any bit of southern, only her nurturing and the hospitality of her upbringing is. Since the short hair cuts with borets attached to the very ends of my slightly coarse hair, it has only been a ride of modesty and innocence.

Whenever I reunite with childhood friends, I am always told that my hair was the most memorable part of me. This was hair that was yanked left and right, along with my head, forcibly being led by my Asian grandmother who commanded the brush to tear apart each and every knot. These were mornings where Yiey bathed me and frustratingly mumbled in her native language with each brush stroke. I’d grimace and grow teary-eyed as she mercilessly mauled through random sections of my hair in attempt to swiftly tie it into a ponytail. It was routine for Yiey to prepare me for school every morning, minutes before it was time for me to leave for school.

Hair Care - Why You Should Think Twice The Next Time You Grab a Shampoo