I started to realize that my hair was different in middle school. As a young child, I never thought much about my waist-grazing locks. Up until junior high, my mom did my hair every day, and it was just, well, hair. But once I got to middle school and my desire for independence grew, I wanted to start experimenting with my hair. And let’s just say, I was bad at styling my tresses. I mean, really bad. I would get my hair into tons of knots and tangles from styling, but I didn’t have the knowledge to know how to properly take care of it. Yeah, I know, problem number one. I remember once a week, my Mom would sit me down and detangle my curls, and it was the most painful yet rewarding process.
This neglect on my part led my Mom to book an appointment for my first relaxer. This was the hardest time in my hair journey because my curls went from waist-length to chin-length in a matter of months, and because the relaxer made my hair fall out. So, there I was, a teenager, and my hair was practically nonexistent. Even though I know hair isn’t the definition of beauty, for a teenager, this was emotionally rough. Why didn’t the hairstylist inform us that my hair was too fine for the strong chemicals in a relaxer? Why couldn’t I have just done a better job at keeping my hair tangle-free? Sadly, at this point, I was determined to have straight hair because the curls would make it shrink up too short, but the straight hair made me feel like a stranger in my own skin.
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