I Am Not My Hair

I read a blog post about some smart men and the misconceptions, thanks to a link that @kurlykichana posted on twitter they had about women who cover their hair and what not, and it just drove me to write this piece.

Stereotypes. That’s what they are. Judging me by my hair, as if to compare, my behavior by the way I wear my hair. I like it Natural.
You know all nappy because it makes me happy. The spring curls making it bounce, my afro makes his eyes glow. So who are you to tell me how to act, that I should be poetic, listen to some floetic? I like my hair nappy because it makes me damn happy. I may listen to some neo soul; write some shit that’s too deep for the soul. But don’t give me an identity; the reality is I am not hair. Now I have to be all ethnic to confirm to my natural hairstyle? Damn! All a sista did was make the big chop, so drop the BS and let her be happy being nappy.

I like it Weaved.
You know, the nice long synthetic hair, the kind of hair I buy to cover my own natural hair? You call me fake because of it, telling me how much I should be proud of my natural roots. I didn’t ask you to run your fingers through my hair, did I? Or make love in the shower and ruin my expensive weave? It’s my prerogative after all. You say I would be prettier without it, but why should I believe you when you drool at the girl in the cover of the magazine, with her silicone breasts and weaves? So let me be, I am not the fake hair on my head..

I like it Wrapped.
You know the Badu look? The Nubian look that has you all thinking that I should be all spiritual? Wear free skirts, have birthstone ornaments on my hands and neck. Baptize myself with some Swahili names like Imani or Aminata. Walk around with a guitar on my back, spit some poetic lyrics for you, clench my fist and be all power to the people. I love my hair wrapped, I don’t need to explain to you what lies underneath my headscarf. Don’t expect me to snap my fingers every time Jill Scott plays in the background. I like my hair wrapped, so keep your bullshit under wraps when it comes to judging me. I am not my head wrap.

We like it bright, permed, bald or locked. Just because my hair color is red doesn’t mean I’m a wild child. Just because I love it soft and straight doesn’t mean I don’t adore the natural looks. Just because I shave it all, doesn’t mean I have cancer and going through chemotherapy. And another thing, quit with the I see you are joining the Amber Rose movement now comments. Just because I like it in corn rows and braids doesn’t mean I have no hair to show off. Just because I have it locked doesn’t mean I listen to Reggae and smoke weed all day everyday:) Like India Arie put it so well; I am not my hair, I am not this skin. I am a soul that lives within.
Peace and Blessings, Vionna

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