I brushed my hair into submission. I wrestled against every curl, I gripped and clipped until everything was in place . I watered the desert on my head. Then,I coated my hands in the swamp water. Satisfied, I look into the mirror and smiled ‘this won’t last.’
About two days ago I struggled with the tangles, with my hair marrying each other so I struggled to separate the strands . The happy couple gave me grief; I couldn’t stand her selfishness. I tried to treat her well but she would hardly appreciate my advances.
Perhaps it’s fair because I could never appreciate myself and so how can I complain about my love not being reciprocated. You can’t help it, you look at your hair and you know it is your identity. Straighten your hair, you suddenly change your ethnicity. Ambiguous looking so we try to guess where you’re from. Where are you from? I don’t know whether to answer with pride or frustration.
Is my hair my beauty ?
I cannot recognise myself as my hair changes.
Did you braid it yourself ?
I told my friend Eva that I looked like a grandma yesterday on video call, we laughed about it. She told me I looked like a pretty grandma and I told her I wasn’t trying to impress.
Prior to that my hair was free but at times I preferred it out of the way.
I’m not sure if I wanted to be the girl with the hair. At times you would get praise and on other occasions people would shake their heads and advice you to stick to your signature look.
New hairstyle?
I guess it seems like I’m planning my looks but I promise you I’m not. All I’m trying to do is not look homeless and when there are no videos or photos to be taken, I assure you I look as captivating as Pap Finn.
Do I look more trustworthy depending on my hairstyle? Is my hair distracting ? Is it alluring ?
I like your hair better straight.
I like your hair better curly.
Can I touch it?
People say they want curls and I smile, knowing that they’re praying for curses.
A day of catastrophe reminded me to sit still and to remember that I am not my hair. I don’t want to be defined with what I can’t control. My hair,my skin and even my culture. We can’t listen to stereotypes and generalisations because I am not your expectations.
I am Christ’s.
I am defined by the choices I make, the path I walk.
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