My mane is not meant to be
tame
It’s stubborn and commanding,
like a lion on the plain
Like a part of my ancestors
living through me
It grieves me how much
torture I’ve put my hair through
Starting with the yank &
pull of straightening tools
So ashamed of my kinks and
coils
I placed them at the mercy of
straightening oils
And if that didn’t work to
hide my curls and naps
I’d keep them in bondage
under yaki tracks
The last thing I did that I
wish I could take back
I started using that creamy
crack
That sodium hydroxide had my
hair looking its best
But as time wore on it
suffered a slow white death
That relaxer was murder to my
follicles
But I was unaware because its
grip was so powerful
My hair began to yearn for
perms
All of the time and money I’d
sacrifice just to get a chemical burn
When I saw new growth I had
to feed my addiction
This addiction subconsciously
embedded due to racial affliction
I eventually began to realize
Each time I would choose
between a lye or no-lye
I was making the decision to
break, fry and dry
So not only did my hair
suffer but part of my identity would die
Why did I care so much and go
through all of these stresses
Just to have what I thought
was beautiful tresses
My mind had been influenced
by music and magazines
Telling me long straight hair
is the standard of pristine
My own people having good
hair bad hair debates
An opinion not based on
health but how wavy or straight
I felt less valued because my
hair definitely didn’t flow
So I ran to the perm to make
it more manageable
When I looked in the mirror I
felt more beautiful
But I didn’t realize my
reflection was a portrait of society taking control
Forcing me into a mold of
what true beauty is
A mold that doesn’t include
naps, kinks or frizz
I had to rid myself of this
common misconception
And chose to have a new
perception
Taking my hair in the natural
direction
For me my hair is now a
picture of perfection
Having tight coarse curls is
a part of being black
Accepting this truth set me
on the right track
I’ve found it quite liberating
to rock my fro
Even thought about getting
dreads to see how long they’d grow
I don’t hate on those who
choose to wear a straight do
But I am saying you also need
to be comfortable being the true you
Face it we all want luscious
locks
But as far as beauty is
concerned we need to think outside the box
An original poem written in July of 2009 during a period when I was newly married, full of imagination, and in love with every possibility.
