I’m Black, but I don’t have kinky hair.
I don’t have nappy hair.
What I do have wouldn’t kink up or nap up if you teased it, rolled it, wet it, shocked it, teased it again, hand rolled it in dirt and grease, and teased it one more time.
To my profound disappointment, my hair is straight.
Never thick and kinky like Whoopee Goldberg’s,
Or lamb’s wool nappy like some of us who gave up perming and hot combing to become fashionably ethnic and cool,
Or found it too time consuming and costly to stitch or weave.
Just straight.
Nursing home straight.
Little old lady straight.
To make it worse…
It’s thin.
I want tree branch braids, or piled high coifs that I can twist up and wrap up in charming ornate decorative scarves.
Not wisps and wisps of soft subtle smooth strands of pain in my ass.
And to make it worse than worse…
It’s gray.
Not illustrious and shiny,
Or distinctively silver and shimmering – like a family matriarch.
Just smoky ashy dull slate charcoal gray.
And short.
Too short for a baseball cap ponytail. Too long for a trendy stylized super cut.
My born hair.
Short. Thin, Straight.
You might say –
Buy a wig!
Have it dyed!
Sister locks!
Forget about the vision of yourself as a renowned griot - resplendent with thick heavy tresses that cascade down and down and down…
EMBRACE THE BALDNESS!
Really?
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Azenia is a retired teacher, managing a sweet treats catering business ("Three Sisters Southern Sweets") and working on an Advanced Degree in Creative Writing.
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