Self Hate

It has been one week and two days since my BC. The moment after the cut, I hated it. Or maybe I was in shock. When I got home a few hours later, I loved it. I snapped all kinds of pics. I loved it for the next three days. And then, I started to feel indifferent. "Whatever" was my attitude on my hair. The night before last, I HATED IT!

I sat in the mirror and said out loud, "what in the world did you do?"

I'm sitting here now wondering why I freaked out so badly? I wanted to braid my hair up two days ago. And now, I'm in love with it again.

I swear its grown since last Sunday. Seriously.

It's a process. I went from having hair that rivaled your favorite weave to having a teeny weeny Afro. And I would be a flat out liar if I didn't say that two nights ago, I was experiencing growing pains.

I call it growing pains because I am growing up, mentally. India Arie said that she wasn't her hair. And its so sad that so many women ARE their hair!

It really is pathetic how a woman can get weave or braids and have their self esteem boosted to the umpteenth power. Why does it take having something that ISN'T EVEN YOURS to make you feel beautiful? Why does our hair define us so much????

This boggles my mind. And it really turns my stomach. I know that we all have our issues, vices, what have you. But beauty comes from WITHIN. Not from 7 packs of curly weave that you bought from the store.

And it doesn't help that media plays into this. Ugh... don't get me started.

My mom made a comment last night that almost got my blood to boiling. I told her that I saw a friend of hers at Target. I wasn't sure if it was her or not because her hair was incredibly longer than the last time that I saw her. But I knew her voice, and I knew that the girl sitting in the shopping cart was definitely hers.

So, I commented on how fast her hair had grown! Her hair grows like weeds! My mom then laughs and tells me that the friend had a short natural-do also. I then asked my mom why the friend went back to the relaxer.

My mom said, "I don't know. She doesn't need a relaxer anyway."
I replied, "I hope my hair grows that fast!"
Mom says, "Well, she doesn't have regular black people hair."
I say, "What's regular?????"
Mom says, "She has a good grade of hair."

At this point, I'm clearly bothered. For one, you're telling me that because I have tight coils, kinks, and curls, that I don't have beautiful hair. Two, you're making yourself and your child, who is only 7 and who is listening, inferior to those whose hair is "prettier."

I say, "There is no such thing as good hair!"
Mom is irritated, "Natasha, her hair curls up. I'm sorry, but she has nice hair."
I say,"See, that's whats wrong with us. We don't love ourselves. We think what we have is ugly."
Mom doesn't say anything else.

I then turn to my little sister and tell her that her hair is beautiful and that she is gorgeous.

UGH...... I didn't mean to go off on that tangent, but it makes me so upset when I hear black women speak like that.

God made us fearfully and wonderfully. Love yourself. Love your hair. Love your skin. Love the you that you are. How can anyone else love you if you don't love you? You have to appreciate you.

If God didn't bless you with long, straight hair that comes down to your butt, then why do you only feel beautiful when you have that long, straight weave in?

If God didn't give you curly big hair, then why do you only feel confident when hiding behind a big curly weave/braids?

Yes, I am on my high horse. Yes, I'm on my soap box.

I've been on both sides of this situation. I hated my hair once. I wanted what was on TV. I wanted what was going to turn heads. I wanted society's view of beautiful. I wanted my own, misconstrued, blind version of beauty.

I'm not knocking relaxers. I'm not calling you a demon if you wear weaves. Some relax because its easier. Fine.

But if you base your beauty and your self confidence on something that doesn't belong to you, then there is a serious problem. And the cycle continues.

I want my babies to realize how beautiful they are. I want my babies to love being who they will be.

Call me nappy. Call me Afrocentric. Call me whatever you want. But I'm ME. And that is something that you can NEVER take away from me.