21 Days: Day 2-Peace with my hair
Another huge positive BJJ has brought into my life? Peace with my hair.
The journey to hair peace is a long one for any Black woman...many don't ever make it. I'm not talking about accepting the color or thinness or weird tendency to frizz...I mean getting to a point where the dead cells your scalp produces aren't something bad...when they aren't something to be covered or combated, beaten down with heat and chemicals and sheer physical force.
It's no short trip. Every now and again, I'll see a hair on the mat and feel a twinge of that old embarrassment I did at my predominately White middle school-a place where my hair was something strange and foreign, something teased and questioned. Even during my time training, I've heard jokes about pubic hair in reference to my shed strands. It's all part of the process.
While I was chemically treating my hair, training BJJ meant I literally had to choose between keeping my hair and training. Black hair is generally fragile, and the commonly practiced forms of straightening make it even more so. Mind you, I didn't go willingly. I was texturizing my hair only once a year, but still, it was breaking terribly. Even with the use of my balaclava, it wasn't growing the way I wanted.
So now my hair grows in its natural texture. My afro is full and fluffy, and flops from length, not damage. It's a good place to be. Every inch grown is a step closer to my previously waist length hair and the irreverently huge 'fro I want, not a reminder of time ticking on the relaxer clock. It's a good place to be.
The journey to hair peace is a long one for any Black woman...many don't ever make it. I'm not talking about accepting the color or thinness or weird tendency to frizz...I mean getting to a point where the dead cells your scalp produces aren't something bad...when they aren't something to be covered or combated, beaten down with heat and chemicals and sheer physical force.
It's no short trip. Every now and again, I'll see a hair on the mat and feel a twinge of that old embarrassment I did at my predominately White middle school-a place where my hair was something strange and foreign, something teased and questioned. Even during my time training, I've heard jokes about pubic hair in reference to my shed strands. It's all part of the process.
While I was chemically treating my hair, training BJJ meant I literally had to choose between keeping my hair and training. Black hair is generally fragile, and the commonly practiced forms of straightening make it even more so. Mind you, I didn't go willingly. I was texturizing my hair only once a year, but still, it was breaking terribly. Even with the use of my balaclava, it wasn't growing the way I wanted.
So now my hair grows in its natural texture. My afro is full and fluffy, and flops from length, not damage. It's a good place to be. Every inch grown is a step closer to my previously waist length hair and the irreverently huge 'fro I want, not a reminder of time ticking on the relaxer clock. It's a good place to be.
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