Loc Reflections
The first time I considered loc'ing my hair, I got some mixed reviews - most of which were negative and discouraging. Growing up Nigerian, there is a heavy negative connotation with dreadlocks and majority of the discouragement stemmed from that.
However, three years later, I took the plunge.
Six months into my loc journey, my only regret is that I didn't do it sooner.
Photo Credit: Yekaterina Gyadu
Locing my hair has been one of the most freeing things I've done.
Over time, it's become so much more than a hairstyle; it's an on-going lesson in freedom, patience and acceptance.
When I went natural in high school, I had this idea of what I thought my hair would be - perfect curly spirals that I wouldn't have to hide from unanticipated moisture.
I must have forgotten I was Nigerian, huh?
My hair was blend of 4b &4c kinky-coily strands and the only time I've really loved my hair texture is now that it is loc'ed.
For once, I'm allowing it to thrive and grow as it wants.
The natural hair's community utter disdain of hair types tighter than 3C has placed other kinky naturals like me in an awkward position. You're either subjected to a lifetime of protective styling to maintain length or manipulating your hair in a million ways to make it look like something it's not.
Despite what all these naturalitas say, 4C hair in it's unmanipulated state is still frowned upon by society and it's unfortunate that the natural hair community has completed neglected to fully acknowledge and combat this.
In the hierarchy of natural hair, we are at the bottom of the totem pole.
Some may think I gave up on my journey of hair love & acceptance, but I don't see it like that because locing my hair is continuously opening me up to higher & higher levels of hair acceptance & self-love.
As a black woman, I have suffered so much for my hair; for what it is and what it is not, and I didn't notice how much it impacted my life until I was in a position where I became free of that burden.
I didn't exercise regularly because of my hair (like other women).
I refused myself certain levels of intimacy because of my hair.
I wouldn't go out in inclement weather because of my hair.
When it came to my hair, there was so much saying "no" and I'm happy to finally be able to say yes.
Outfit details: Dress - Madewell, Sweater - Ann Taylor, Shoes - Mango, Bag - Nine West
Photo Credit: Yekaterina Gyadu
The freedom I feel going to the gym at 5:30am and heading to work after a simple shower and hair-rinse is truly exhilarating. Something that simple gives me such pleasure because for so long, the act of going to gym and giving a f**k about my health had to coincide with what hairstyle I had on my head.
Of course, I had some anxiety about how my job would receive my hair but over time, the support I received far outnumbered the confused looks I got. While there have been some interesting experiences with people touching my hair without asking or petting me like an a lil animal because "My hair is just so cute", I'm grateful everyday to be around people that are willing to ask questions about my hair and it's cultural/social significance instead of just assuming I'm a rasta that smokes weed all day (& there is nothing wrong with that - it's just not who I am).
Six months in, I can't see myself without my locs and I hope I never have to.
I tell everyone that's on the fence to take the dive because with this look, I've found freedom and self-acceptance like no other.
I remember my last trip to the DMV area and feeling such bliss in that area because everyone I turned, people had locs.
I asked someone, "Why does everyone here have locs?" and he said, "It's like a rite of passage".
A few months back, I didn't really get it but as I've continued on this journey, my mind keeps coming back to that statement.
Hair is such a stronghold for black women and while I'm still under the shackles of colonialism, classism and racism in many other ways, it feels good to break through one chain.