It was my birthday and I was recovering from food poisoning. I rallied with two close friends for drinks and charcuterie at a South End brewery. We found a small table in the corner and waited on the last member of our party to arrive. A female server approached and very loudly said to me, “I know relaxed curls anywhere! You should stop relaxing your hair. You need to go to a Columbian salon and they will do this treatment …”

I stopped listening as she rambled on about how I, a 44-year-old woman of sound mind/hair/body, needed to tend to the hair on my head. This was a first. Usually, people (meaning strangers) will argue with me about my race or say a corny and/or inappropriate joke about my skin compared to theirs or mention I should pass for white, etc. This was the first time someone instructed me that I was wearing my hair incorrectly. And she was aggressive about it. She did have curly hair. I can’t remember what ethnic group she mentioned she belonged to. I suppose she believed she had authority to school me on my hair because we had a similar appearance (ethnic/exotic, curly hair, not white but clearly something else). I wasn’t in the mood for a lecture on my birthday and 24 hours after my body had rejected an Asian lunch choice I made in Mooresville. She hadn’t even introduced herself nor taken our drink orders before she launched into the stop relaxing your curly hair diatribe. My white female friend sat stone-faced at the table. I could tell she was annoyed and shocked. If you spend enough time with me, you’ll witness a scenario like this, where a stranger is questioning me/commenting about my race and appearance.

When the waitress came up for air from her hair lecture, I explained that I did, in fact, relax my hair by choice and was good with it. I have A LOT of hair. I thank God, my late white grandmother and my biracial mother for this but my hair is extremely dense. Relaxing it made it easier to manage and style on the regular. For me. And mom during the 1970s – 1990s. #hotcomb #relaxerscabs #tenderheaded

She eventually took our order and walked away. I exchanged a knowing glance with my friend who witnessed the unsolicited hair TED Talk. We rolled our eyes and shook our heads and commiserated over the audacity of her comments. My other white friend showed up sat down and we filled her in. Her eyes enlarged, her mouth fell open and I laughed. She couldn’t believe what had happened. But I could. People have been throwing their comments and opinions about my appearance at me my entire life. I was naive to think it wouldn’t apply to my hair at some point.

Hair in the black community is a delicate subject. Some would say sacred. It’s closely tied to a cultural identity that dates back to slavery and Africa. It’s taken me years to become comfortable with my hair and appreciate the coils that spring haphazardly every which way. I’ve been told my hair is my calling card. People often tell me: “I knew it was you when I saw your hair!”

P.S.

The pandemic hit in 2020, I was stuck in my apartment alone, stress-eating and sanitizing like the rest of the world and decided to begin the process that Black women know as: The Transition. Meaning, growing out the relaxer (chemical straightener) in my hair that I’d been getting for 30+ years. It’s a long and arduous process. There have been tears. There was a bad haircut that I’m still growing out. There was a please put a relaxer back in my hair because I hate how big it is and I look like Chaka Khan period. There was an okay, I really am going to grow the relaxer out again for real this time period. There have been months where I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror as the hair that God intended me to have grew in curly instead of a forced straight period. It’s been a love/hate journey of me accepting that I have extremely thick hair and should be grateful for it. Mom said she had no idea how curly my hair was but wished she’d known sooner. I prefer my natural curls to my straight hair. My authentic, curly, thick hair is almost fully grown out. I almost love it. I’m glad that I stopped relaxing my curly hair. And I did it when I was ready.