As a child, I wanted hair that was easy to comb. As a young adult, I wanted hair that fell down my face. My natural hair always got in the way of appreciating my natural beauty. If only I had “good hair” like my friend Sara, who had the prettiest, softest, loose curls. Or hair like my best friend Tam, who’s brown, silky hair fell down her face. Their hair softened their faces and made them look so feminine, but mine, sticking out any which way, made me feel like a little boy. These were the type of words I repeated to myself most of my life.
It wasn’t until my late 20s that I said, enough is enough. I was exhausted from comparing my hair to everyone else’s, tired of staring in the mirror after taking out my braids and wondering why my hair couldn’t just lay flat. I was done with relaxers and wigs. All I wanted was to appreciate my natural hair and find beauty in what my ancestors had passed down to me. But where do you even begin?
So I went cold turkey.
I threw away all my wigs and Xpression extensions. I washed my hair, stood in front of the mirror, looked at my shrinkage, and said the words out loud, “You look beautiful, Yinka”. I didn’t believe myself but I knew that the words we speak to ourselves eventually shape who we become and how we see ourselves. So I kept saying them.
Every day became a ritual. I’d comb my hair into an afro each morning, look in the mirror, repeat positive affirmations about my hair and my beauty, then leave the house, literally shaking with fear of judgment. I knew the only way to conquer my insecurities was to face them head on. I forced myself to exist publicly in my natural hair. I went to the shops, doctor’s appointments, caught public transport, even played sports with my afro! The results shocked me. My fears told me that people would think I was less beautiful, men would not look in my direction, people may even laugh. Instead, the complete opposite happened. I received more smiles from strangers, black women constantly complimenting me, and even men flirting with me. At the time, that validation was exactly what I needed to keep going.
Over time, I learned how to style my hair into different styles, I learned which products worked best for my hair, eventually leading me to my current locs. Now at 36, I can say with my whole chest that I absolutely love my natural hair. What a blessing to be born with a crown of 4C hair that can easily be styled, stretched, shortened, molded, and folded. What fun! Now, onto my locs journey.