Hair Instincts

Hair has always been a mystery to me. My own hair has mystified me since I started trying to manage it on my own. I’m easily impressed when I see someone with beautiful hair styled to perfection. I’ve learned the hard way that hair instincts are hard to come by. At least for me anyway. I can never seem to fully grasp the tools to master doing my hair. It’s never been properly “trained” hard as I try.

I don’t like to perpetuate the idea or notion of “good” hair. The “good hair” title being given out to those whose hair is straighter and longer than others. Bad hair doesn’t exist. Bad hair styles, yes. I myself have been included in that category one to many times. Categories are too constricting and become so stereotypical. Admittedly I have become caught up in this debate but I would much rather have more understanding on how to maintain my hair than trying to classify whether it’s straight enough or too kinky.

There seems to be a division in the black community – those who choose to keep their hair natural and those who choose to straighten it out, either with chemicals or getting it pressed with the hot comb. I’m specifically discussing females [although many males have been known to go down these routes as well].

Until recently I was a part of the latter. Although I haven’t had a perm in at least 5 years, I continued to get my hair pressed. For the most part my hair was a natural mess. I never really understood this whole dialogue and only recently have I truly decided to stay fully natural and leave the pressing comb behind. It’s been all of three weeks.

I’d always worn my hair in braids more frequently than not due to sports. Growing up I was into just about every sport, including swimming and not having braids wasn’t an option. The fact that I also was a heavy sweater during any workout only compounded the problem. This proved a good solution as there are various styles of braids and I frequently went in and out of several styles.

As I transitioned to college and began trying to focus on my own hair, this proved to be a difficult path. I wanted to give the constant braids a break and so I reverted back to what I knew: a perm. Now, my hair is soft and thick, but upon interaction with a perm it falls flat. I stuck with the perm for about two years, and it was manageable, but I missed the natural fullness of my hair, which is one thing I really loved about my hair. So I cut out the perm and reverted back to getting it burnt. [This is not a term I’ve ever used, but one that many in the natural ‘hair community’ use quite frequently when referring to the pressing comb.]

Any southern black girl knows the deal about getting their hair pressed. It’s a very tense experience that leaves you gasping for air [since you mainly hold your breath] each time the hot comb gets close to the scalp, breathing a sigh of relief every time you don’t get burned. I willingly went through this process -which I believed was keeping my hair natural- while I tried to determine what style(s) would work for me.

My central problem has mainly been being able to maintain a style for at least two weeks (more would be preferable) looking just about as good as the day I leave the shop. This isn’t too much to ask, seeing as though I have sisters and friends and cousins who do this all the time. I’m always amazed at how people “train” their hair so well and wonder what gene skipped over me at birth.

One thing I can say about myself is the fact that I’m willing to try just about anything so I had no qualms about deciding to get my hair coiled, which is the first stage of starting locs. I entered the shop extremely open-minded. My eagerness to try new styles always has me jumping wholeheartedly into any new process.
Previously I believed to have had this style when I was living in New York and I had it done in Harlem. In this setting, I didn’t get my hair washed or properly conditioned and moisturized. I sat between an African woman’s legs, (who promised that she knew what she was doing) and let her part and coil my hair with a comb. In this instance a lot of beeswax was used –which later I found to be very bad for my hair- and my hair was very sticky and eventually hardened. The coils were larger because the parts were bigger and my hair looked slick with all the beeswax. At the time I liked it and it lasted for about a week. This was a totally different style than I was about to receive from Jamal, my new hair stylist.

I had talked to a friend of mine who had referred me to her shop because of course her hair was beautifully styled. What impressed me the most was what she was able to do with her hair on her own with fully natural hair. My own natural hair seemed so foreign to me due to my constant inability to tame it. I’ve never wished for a better head of hair, long or wavy, my wishes have always been about my ability to style it every day without looking like I just got out of bed.

As I walked out the shop I felt very secure. I loved the style, it fit perfectly and I didn’t feel the need to be constantly in the mirror checking to make sure that my hair looked presentable or that my style was still in place. The coils looked like little curls that would have naturally sprung up had I just washed my hair and shook it dry. Of course it had been two hours, some tedious work with a comb and thirty minutes under the dryer but I was more than assured that it would last me three weeks. I then panicked because my next appointment wasn’t for five weeks [they’re extremely popular and I scheduled my next two appointments and put my name on the cancellation list] and was worried about what to do in the two weeks before my next appointment. My hair dresser Jamal, calmed me down and told me not to worry, I could always separate the coils and sort of fluff them out and wear it more full. He pointed to his wife Abeenah, whose hair looked fabulous and I seriously doubted that I would be able to affect that style on my own head. After several encouraging conversations I relaxed, seeing how great my hair looked and the little maintenance it took, and decided to take their word for it and jump head first into this natural process. I could style my own hair. Dammit. If all else failed I could always wear a hat and it wouldn’t be the first time.

My boyfriend David was happily surprised. Secretly I knew he didn’t know what to expect when I told him that I was thinking about locing my hair. Although he’s never said out right, I know that he’s a man who’s been enamored by women with long hair, whether by weave or just naturally long. My own shoulder length hair sufficed fine, but it was my inability to maintain it that caused my continual unrest. Luckily, David was happy with just about anything I did or wasn’t able to do.

The fact is he’s always liked it when I wore my hair natural. Simply washing it and letting it air dry. I’ve done this before when I’ve just given up and said to hell with it, but these are the times that David seems to like the most. In light of this, I think he was still nervous about my newest hair expedition. Now that I’m nearing the end of week three he’s excited about how my future locs will look, almost disappointed that it will be months before they are anywhere near the picture in his head or in mine for that matter.