The other night a friend sent me a link to this article and it got me thinking.
I have had a long, tumultuous relationship with my curly hair.
As a kid I hated it because it would get tangled and knotted. As a young adult I hated it because it made me different and suddenly defined who I was. I straightened it because I thought I wanted sleek hair, because I thought it looked better and because I thought the boys would like it.
Things have changed and now I love my hair. My hair is crazy and wild and gets everywhere. Sometimes it attracts good attention and other times negative attention. Yes, like any other relationship we have good days and bad but I am happy with what I have and have come to terms with what I will never have.
So the article reminded me of a poem I had written a while back about my hair. I haven’t worked on it since and think that it has potential to become a masterpiece (ok, maybe not a masterpiece). But in the meantime I wanted to share it.
This for all you curly ladies out there.
.
It brushes against my face
Flows down my back
No rhythm
No rhyme
A flurry of waves
An enigma of spirals
.
Sometimes it’s mess atop my head
And has a mind of its own
It is unpredictable
It will puff
It will pouf
It will tangle
Sometimes due to carelessness
But most often due to it’s unruly nature
.
I hated the way it made me feel
The way I thought others saw me.
It wasn’t like anyone else’s
Not shiny nor silky
No single movement
No one wanted to play with it
No one knew what to do with it
No one would run their fingers through it
.
It was a burden
It was different
I ignored it
flattened it
Burned it
Tormented it
Insulted its character
Just to be one in the same
.
But as I’ve grown and changed
I have come to realize
It is beautiful
It is different
It is natural
It is mine
It is fun
It’s me.
