“Maybe the Beginning of Me”, Chapter 2
This is chapter two of my poetry collection titled “Maybe the Beginning of Me”. Read chapter one if you haven’t yet.
Memories of Beauty Shops
Do you ever find yourself in an epiphany thinking back on what it was like to be a kid again? I think I zone out every other day faintly reliving who I used to be. My hair is one part of these semi-bittersweet memories as it is for most black girls. Reminiscing can revive regrets or at least force you to remember the regrets that still linger. I regret allowing my hair to be damaged with chemicals. I regret allowing my hair to be burned with hot combs and straighteners. However, back then, I felt beautiful. I didn’t mind the hair mutilation, I simply didn’t understand it.
Hair was and still is important to me. I have to give credit to the beauty shops that helped me realize what I did or didn’t like. Even as a shy and timid kid, beauty shops always had a welcoming warmth to them. A place black women would come together and talk to you as if they already know you. An atmosphere filled with music, laughter, or even simple conversation that felt like a chat amongst friends. I would sit there just listening. Taking note of the coloured walls or lack thereof, the gossip, how long someone was under a dryer. All these little snippets of being in and out of beauty shops echo in my mind. Putting these images on digital paper is my way of paying homage to the environments of my past.
Thoughts from 11/9/19
I remember getting my hair braided and being frustrated with how tight my scalp felt. I was frustrated because I was tender-headed. I was frustrated because I had to endure pain for the sake of a hairstyle that was so important for me to have. I also questioned whether or not this “torture” was worth it, and it usually is. I know hair is just hair but braids are a part of me. They’re a part of me I will never be willing to give up.
It got me thinking about black hairstyles and their cultural importance. This quickly led me to the issue of cultural appropriation and my feelings towards those who steal from black culture and lack the understanding of it. It’s like someone is taking a part of me and diminishing its importance. All of my thoughts felt scattered and led me to the underappreciation of black women in general. Everyone admires the fashion and culture that has stemmed from us. I referred to Issa Rae a few times because her works such as her show Insecure, have paved the way for positive representation of black women. She illustrates that we come from beauty and pain, that we are not just our struggles. Issa Rae shows we’re lawyers, artists, people who laugh and cry too. Often, we are invisible to the naked eye. Not enough people take the time to understand black women. Not enough people take the time to truly see us as, well, real people.
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