You may be reading this title and thinking, “coming out?!” To some, that may seem a bit dramatic, but if you knew my mom, then you’d understand…
Growing up in my household appearance was literally everything. Both of my parents were very active in the community, and we were a well known family.
My mother was probably my worst critic. I remember one day she told me I couldn’t go to my cousin’s birthday party one weekend because my hair was not up to par.
It was instilled in me early on that I needed to not only be on my best behavior but also look my best at all times. By the time I left for college I slowly begin to push the envelope, as far as my hair was concerned.
My mother said I looked better with long hair, and although I liked my long hair, I was ready for a change.
A lot of my friends were natural and I had been getting relaxers my whole life, so I really wanted to see what my natural curl pattern looked like, because their’s were beautiful.
One weekend I was on the phone with my mother, just casually throwing the idea out there and my mom said that I better not go natural, because no guy likes a woman with short nappy hair. I mean, she was really that shallow.
I wanted to prove to my mom that even though what she said may be true, I didn’t care what anybody thought. I lived my whole life pleasing everyone and making sure I was always presentable, and never got to do what I wanted to do to my hair.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, but that night I went to the on-campus salon and got every bit of my relaxed hair chopped off, and cried immediately after. The tears were a mixture of joy and fear.
I was happy that I finally did something that I wanted to do to my appearance, but I was scared because there was no coming back.
I always went home Sundays to go to church with my family and to have dinner, so the following morning I walked into church with my short cut, and my mother was the first one to lay eyes on me. She looked as if she saw a ghost.
However, my friends and church members ran up to me giving me a swarm of compliments on my cut, and were saying how much more mature I looked, and my twa looked so cute. My dad also walked up to me and told me he loved the cut, and not to worry about what my mother thinks, and then gave me a huge hug.
To this day, my mother has yet to give me a compliment on my natural hair, even though I’ve been natural for going on 5 years, and that’s perfectly okay. Every day when I look in the mirror, I smile, because in a way my hair was the first step to me finally taking my outer appearance into my own hands.