Curls, Coils, and Kinks: My Journey to Embracing Natural Hair

Growing up as a little black girl with thick, tight curls in the 80s meant Saturday night was hair night and sheer torture! Every week, I found myself screaming and crying while Mama tried to make my hair "church ready" for Sunday service. To this day, the smell of Bergamont pressing oil will take me back to that hot comb sizzling through my hair and brief but memorable scalp burns. I would cry at the sight of the shampoo and conditioner bottles sitting on the kitchen counter alongside a folded towel with a Goody comb resting on top. Week after week, I would beg and plead with her to let me wait until the following week to get it done to buy some time, but she was pretty inflexible, my mother. The painful tangles were gone for a few days, replaced with silky straight hair (and relief). Those nights, I would sleep well, albeit due to the headache from all the crying. I come from the Sunshine State, where my love for being a tomboy and keeping up with my hair sessions often clashed since riding my bike for hours, and climbing trees was my norm—I would always sweat my hair out. Despite the Florida humidity undoing all my mom's hard work during the week, Saturday nights were still dedicated to styling my hair— until one evening, she announced that she was "sick and tired" of battling with my thick hair and endless crying and would be trying something else. I, for one, was ecstatic because whatever the new plan, if it didn't require hootin’ and hollerin’, sign me up. That night would be the start of a 37-year committed relationship with chemical relaxers.

As I got older, it became clear that I was a serial relaxer, and every six weeks turned into four and then three because frequent applications hindered any chance of even a slight wave making a debut. My connection with my hair was in peril, and selfishly, I continued the behavior despite the damage I knew it was causing.

In my teens, I went from long, thick ponytails to a fierce mushroom do, followed by a pixie cut and my signature and favorite, a classic bob—I was always looking for new styles. However, once the natural movement started for black women, I wasn’t sure I wanted any part of it; smoother hair had always been my thing, remember? But after resisting it for most of my life, it is evident that something had to change.

Even still, for a long time after, I was stuck in my kinky hair woes, fighting back any remnants of texture the moment I spotted it, and the natural movement seemed like a practical idea until it came time to take the plunge. I had convinced myself natural hair wasn't for me and took too much work (and it is a lot of work!), but then something shifted. Let's say my decision-making process had finally come full circle: I had resisted the call of nature, but I was finally ready to embark on an exciting journey toward embracing what made me unique. I dreaded the infamous “big chop” and the work that would come with learning how to manage my super tight curls sans the relaxer. But I was still certain this was the right path.

Now, before you get too invested in the idea that this could be another critical conversation that ends with chastising those who make different choices with their hair, let me be clear: THIS ISN'T THAT! No one looks good with judgmental side-eyes, so throw 'em out because we don't do that here. More on that in a moment. This story isn’t just about seemingly unmanageable hair, though…it’s more than that. It’s about learning and evolving as I embark on my journey toward discovering what works best for ME and my hair without the assistance of chemicals. Who knew a hair transformation could feel so empowering?

My loyalty to straight hair was due to what my mom thought was best for my hair as a tender-headed kiddo growing up in the 80s, and when I was old enough to do it myself, I did what was familiar and easy. I have read many (and I do mean many) blog posts and articles informing me that I was doing it because I unconsciously harbored hatred for my natural hair due to the “European standard of beauty.” I was relaxing my hair because my white counterparts had subconsciously convinced me that straight hair was more beautiful and socially acceptable than what my African heritage had afforded me. Wow, all of that simply because my Mama wanted to run a comb through my hair with no pain...or for it to be smooth and manageable based on my capability to care for it? If there is one thing I can’t stand, it's generalizations. All dogs don’t hate cats, all men don’t cheat, and every black woman who relaxes or silk presses her hair isn’t hiding deep-rooted disdain for the natural version. Sure, that narrative is likely accurate for some, but the broad stroke with the judgment brush is always a bad idea.

My mom had three girls with a ton of hair, and the baby girl (me) was born with the thickest hair and the tightest curls, so she did what thousands of black mothers were doing back then: making things easier. I am reminded of the quote from author Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then, when you know better, do better.” I feel like that’s what most of us do in our daily lives…the best we can. For many, this includes our hair. To my natural sisters who post information on blogs or create YouTube tutorials to educate other black women on chemical-free options, styling, and product tips, I applaud and thank you! You have no idea how much your 13-minute video or 2-minute blog helped me while standing in the mirror trying to decide on an effortless style for the week and what flake-free products would get me there.

However, those who have chosen an alternate route often end up psychoanalyzing women's “unconscious conflicts” with kinky hair, imposing their interpretation of natural hair on us, and even comparing degrees of blackness based on one’s understanding or unwillingness to accept their narrative. It’s a lot. As a former hairstylist, I appreciate all hair types and hope that we remain informed to ensure we make the best decisions for the health of our hair in whatever way works best for us individually.

So, after forty-plus years of trying to tame my curly locks, in 2020, I decided to learn what they needed from me to thrive and be healthy so I could set them free! Natural hair is an exciting and worthwhile journey, and I thought I would miss my relaxers, but I don't. With the help of my cosmetology experience, some online research, and tips from my older sister, who was already natural (thanks, Nik), it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with what God gave me. My curls are tighter than I ever realized but oh-so stunning when left alone, in a twist out, or with a rod set, which is my go-to. Sure, there will be periods when I will choose to wear my hair straight, but for now, we're repairing years of not being on the same page and finally getting to know one another.