I just noticed something. I took a picture with a man on Day 1 and picture with a man on Day 365 (see blog post "My Natural Hair Anniversary: I AM ENOUGH"). It's kinda suggestive: Go Natural. Find Romance. Now before you run for the scissors or run with scissors, you gotta know it's not that simple. It does however speak volumes about where I was then and where I am now.
Day 1. It was Sunday morning. I had done the Big Chop the night before. Though my intentions were to walk the beach, take in the ocean and its majesty and breath in this new day in my life, I spent time on the beach with a brutha. He seemed nice and complimentary. I ain't gon lie. I enjoyed the attention. He told me that he admired my confidence to sport my natural hair. He marveled at how shiny it was. But it wasn't long before I felt like I was Garfield and he - Odie - was jumping around me, slobbering and ready to play. You got it. He was only interested in the packaging.
Being natural for me was brand spanking new. I had done a simple act, yes. Nevertheless, it was a big deal. After all, I was cutting away 30+ years of a mindset that said straighter is better. TV ads of women of color swinging their hair effortlessly. My self esteem, my feelings of attractiveness were tied to how thick, how fiercely cut, how stylish my hair was. All of that was dropping to the floor and being swept away as nothing more than trash. Instead of a caterpillar becoming a beautiful butterfly, I was re-entering the cocoon called nappy, Buckwheat, beady kitchens, Aunt Jemima, bad hair.
I remember I took that Monday off. I was standing in front of my mirror with product all around, determined to figure out a style I could go to work in the next day. I only had 1/2 inch of hair on my head. What to do? I attempted to recreate the sleek short fro I saw on a natural hair youtube video. Gurl, you ain't got no baby hair, I thought. But I DO have me some gel and Queen Helene shaping paste. Hello! Hum, cute but not enough. Sooo, I went shopping for earrings and accessories that would help me to embrace this new look. I had to wear makeup. I needed to feel put together. I needed to feel confident. I needed to feel classy yet edgy to pull off this short hair.
What a difference a year has made! I am amazed at the transformation. I went from going natural to being natural. I am natural! It's deeper than I could have imagined. I have become more comfortable in my own skin. There's something about being natural that feels more honest. Sure, I still wear makeup when I get the notion. It's a girl thang. Yet, I can rock my Bantu knots or my fat two-strand twists with nothing more than a happy glow that comes from within not from a Mac counter. Like the God who created me in His Image, I can honestly look at his handiwork and say with heartfelt exuberance, "It IS good."
Day 365. It is a Sunday morning. I had hosted my first Supper Club the night before. I had gone to Ulta, a cosmetics store, to return some product and decided to stop by a brutha's residence nearby. He answered the door. "What you doin here, woman?," he asked with a playful smile. I grabbed him and said, "Kiss me, with your ole smart behind!" He wasn't spouting off flattering words or marveling at the packaging - at least not out loud..ha ha ha. He resumed watching the football game from his recliner: talking to me one minute and yelling at the players the next. I assumed my favorite position on his comfy sofa and breathed in the moment. I am home.
