So I grew up with my mom either cutting my hair…. brush cut or plaiting it at home with black wool and if she got tired of it or was stressed my hair was the outlet…. there comes the scissors. Fast forward to me now being in charge of my hair. Guess what I did…
My hair journey, just like every other black girl, has barely been a walk in the park. Growing up, I always had relaxed hair and people would always compliment me on how long it was but I still didnβt like my hair. It was super flat, lifeless and I felt like it made my forehead…
I never actually imagined myself going natural, it seemed like a far fetched dream. But after my childhood infection reoccurred I had no other choice but cut my relaxed hair and go back to basics. I started of by playing around with my short hair and experimenting with different hair cuts. But those weekly barber…
I had always relaxed my hair until I reached the age of 14 when I decided to stop relaxing my hair because I could not stand the burning sensation of relaxers. My mom was so happy because she had spent all my life trying to convince me to give the relaxer a break.Β I cut my…
I wish that I had an amazing story to tell regarding my hair, a story with phrases such as “My identity is embedded in my hair” or “I grew my afro for confidence and personal growth” or some other gibberish that would make me sound like an advocate for natural hair and beauty. The truth…
