Hello “Damn you!.” Good to see you!

In January, I carefully and zealously picked out my beloved, beautiful locs of 13 years. I had no plan for my hair other than to get it washed, conditioned well, and pressed once a month. That simple plan has been a good plan. No chemicals. No fancy hair cuts. A little high maintenance given my curl pattern and its instinctive tendencies, but, nonetheless, a good plan.

Like so many women, though, I equate the condition of my hair with how I feel about myself. When my hair looks pretty and healthy, I feel pretty and healthy. When it looks a hot mess, guess what? I feel a hot mess. The same was true when I wore locs. When they were fresh, clean, and the new growth tamed, I felt the same way – fresh, clean and, uh, tame. I’ve tried to deny the association, to psychologically will myself to a separation, but I can’t. I’m caught up like that. Sorry, India.Arie, I AM my hair!

Sigh…

After taking out my locs, a dear friend said to me, “Wow. Those were your trademark.” Of course she meant no offense and I took none. But, she was right! My locs defined me. In 1997 they meant I was a woman who defied societal groupthink. I was a woman who refused to be invisible, who stood out in the crowd, who was different by choice. In Nashville, my locs said, “Damn you, norms and tradition! Damn you, oh approved standards of beauty! Damn you, conformist, you mainstream unadventurous followers!” Among the crowd I worked in, my locs said, “I don’t give a flip what you think of me. I’m here. I’m staying. Deal with it!”

Now with my freshly pressed hair, there is no, “Damn you.” It’s just hair like everyone else’s. And with hair like everyone else’s, who does that mean I am?

Sigh...

Now, on a couple of occasions I tried the wash-n-go look, the Maxwell/Terry McMillan afro. Geez, did that take a lot of energy and attitude! I couldn’t keep up the sassiness that look required. That’s just not who I am. I’m a press-n-curl girl. But what does that mean?

Does it mean I can’t be a part of the natural hair dialogue? Does it mean I should not belong to the natural hair blogs that declare unprocessed, untouched hair the epitome of “good hair” and accepting/appreciative of one’s ancestral roots?” Am I now invisible/regular/just another Black woman? Well, wait, I’ve NEVER been “just another Black woman” so scratch that one. But, I have felt invisible and regular (and suspect when visiting the natural hair sites).

But, on second thought, what do “invisible” and “regular” have to do with my hair?

Give your brain as much attention as you give your hair and you’ll be a thousand times better.
-- El Hajj Malik El Shabazz (Malcolm X)

I don’t want to be invisible or regular. There’s no way I can be because I have a helluva brain. And now that I can no longer hide behind my hair – ooh, revelations! – this not-just-another-Black-woman has to speak for herself and stand out in the crowd in another way. I’ve got to free myself/show up/speak out, then, my hair will follow. Not the other way around.

Sigh… No more easy outs.

Or… because I’ve got this helluva brain, maybe I just AM a “Damn you!” kinda chick and it had nothing to do with my hair at all.

Maybe because I was unclear about the facility/power/gift of my brain, I allowed my hair to take on a life of its own and personify my “Damn you!” attitude. Maybe it was easier to show my “Damn you!” when everybody thought the hair meant “Damn you!” Perhaps my locs were the scapegoat I felt necessary for others to endure a resolute Sadiqqa. And now, perhaps I’ve unconsciously bought into the thought that pressed hair is quiet and conventional, more unobjectionable. I’ve involuntarily squashed my “Damn you!”

No wonder I’ve been missing me!

“Damn you!” is my air of confidence and competence that supersedes hairstyle, clothing, or any other outward thing that can be discarded/changed/shelved. No more excuses, disguises, or whipping boys vis-à-vis hairstyles to be who I really am – a “Damn you!” woman! I’ll be damned if let my hair do the talking/thinking/being any longer. Damn you hair complexity and psychology!

Now that I think about it, that’s the real reason I let go of my locs in the first place – so I could see me. I am NOT my hair!

Hello “Damn you!.” Good to see you!