Snackers! We are here another week. Though love seems to be something the world lacks, Snack on This is always here to spread the love no matter what. Whether single, in a committed relationship, or just blowing with the wind trying to make it through, I love you.
Let us celebrate who we love, what we love, and why! In this post, I celebrate my hair. Let's get into it...
Two years later, and "It's our anniversary". Two years ago, I made the best life decision and fell in love with you. You gave me the freedom I yearned for, and the confidence to say it is all mine with my entire chest. I waited for you while taking advice from those who had experienced what it was like before me. Properly taking care of you was my number one priority. I prepared for you, trimming loose ends and maintaining while in transition. I hesitated longer than I should have, afraid of the unknown. Allowing this love to grow has been the journey I never knew I needed as a woman. As a black woman, you have completed me in more ways than aesthetically. To my locs, I love you.
There is nothing more liberating than having a head full of locs. Wigs, weaves, braids and faux locs were cool and all, the real challenge was letting go of it all. PSA, just because we cover our hair...does not mean we do not have any, moving along! From childhood, we have added inches and kanekalon. We have permed, burned, and revived strands of hair suffering to breathe for years. We have been conditioned to believe that is the way to maintain. Products on products, do not forget the product build-up. Bamboozled into thinking our hair is not good enough, or too difficult, ugly if not slick. The worst days, used to be using the last drop, of my "favorite" product I thought I could not live without. Frantically running to the neighborhood beauty supply store, saying "shit, I ran out". God forbid it was a day I was taking my current style out.
The stresses of pleasing those who never accepted us from head to toe became overwhelming. I thought hell would freeze over before I let it all go. Every new hairstyle was always being talked about whether real or fake. We won't even get into the (walking into work and people trying to figure out how you switched up so fast). That honestly used to make me laugh. Ignorance is truly bliss, I guess. One day my head was itching so damn bad wearing a wig, and I finally said, "fuck this shit". I barely made it home before snatching that thing off. I knew that was my soul speaking to me. Trying to conform was no longer working for me. That day, I told my dearest friend and the best loctician I know, I was ready.
Though the transition was rough, I would not have it any other way. Wash days have gone from the worst days to the best days. I do not own a brush or blow dryer. Heat damage will not hold me hostage. My soul has been set free from the shackles of feeling like my hair is not good enough just the way it is. I get it when my loctician says, "We loc'd in, ain't no switching up!". Because baby...Let me tell y'all, ain't not switching up over here. Switching up was exhausting. Two years of a self-love journey and learning to accept everything you see in the mirror. Accepting every hair out of place as the locs form. Allowing my hair to do its own thing has been beautiful. I did not choose the locs, the locs chose me and I thank you.
I leave you with this...A black woman walked past me in the beginning stages and said, "Welcome to freedom". I felt that deeply. For my black women and men out there, whatever you do with your hair, love on it, and never let anyone tell you anything other than it is fabulous. Our black is beautiful, from head to toe, and they know it!
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