My Father's Hair...

So the Natural Hair movement has taken the world by storm in the past few years, and me the low maintenance person I am who had damaged their long relaxed hair by keeping it in one virtually all the time out of laziness and 'cant botheration' not only jumped on the band wagon, but begun to drive it.

Taking better care of my hair and spending time with it, I begun to appreciate myself even more as a result. Switching from sulphate shampoos and silcone conditioners, being cognitive of the fact that what I was putting on my hair was able to seep into my scalp and thus my bloodstream, became a conscious  thought. I started reading labels more and tried more natural hair and skin products. I did a lot of research and started feeling excited about the journey I was on, reconnecting me to my roots - literally! For me, the Natural Hair Movement is not political or social, rather it has become a very personal journey. As I explored different options to improve the health of my hair and skin, I begun to eat better and now after 2 years of being a non-smoker (yes yes I appreciate the applause) I figure, if I can quit smoking I can do anything :). So with that said I decided to do the Big Chop even though I planned to transition for 8 months, I called my hair dresser and told her I was ready 3 months in.


My Big Chop experience was not the liberating experience that most women describe. Between a few yells of "Oh my......" followed by a few expletives, mixed in with hysterical laughter as a friend of mine instructed my hair stylist to cut down the middle of my head so I had no choice but to sit there rather than go to work the next day looking like bozo the clown.

I had big chopped twice before years ago, but never like this, it was due to a break up (ya that psychological practice deserves a blog/article all on it's own). Those times however the natural strands didn't last too long, whether by Curl Activators or Texturisers, I immediately had to tame my hair. This time it was all for me, not emotionally driven, or the need to 'let go and grow' as it were.

So as more of my tresses fell to the floor and my scalp grew colder I raised a hand to touch my hair and in that moment my heart stood still. You see, I had lost my father in Nov. 2011, and as my fingers touched my hair, for what felt like the first time, I was immediately carried to a memory. I held back the tears and begun to smile and laugh a bit. In that very moment, I was now 4 years old again touching my Father's hair and placing clips in his hair. I remember he had just come from work, sat on the edge of his bed and it was passed my bed time, I was already 'pretending to sleep' and as I heard the springs in his bed sink, I jumped up, grabbed my clips and stood behind him to play in his hair.

Thanks to my mom, I have this memory forever also as a photograph. So as I sat there in my hairstylist's chair, smiling to myself, something dawned on me..... something so beautiful and simple.... I realized I have my Father's hair, and there is nothing I would ever do to change that again.


I love you Daddy!