My natural hair journey

This is me before I discovered the love for natural hair that's becoming a movement among black women. I had been relaxing my hair for about eight years and it was damaged as a result. It was dry, I had split ends up to here and it was basically falling out with each stroke of the brush. Seeing people around me embrace their natural curls encouraged me to take that step too. My friend Sarah A played a big role in convincing me to get my 'fro back, assuring me we'd do it together. So at the age of eighteen, I stopped relaxing my hair in preparation of my big chop. A couple of days before my nineteenth birthday, I went to a hairdresser and asked for my hair to be cut off.

The hairdresser chopped my straight bits off and that was when I realised I actually wasn't ready. But it was too late: there was no going back. I had to make the best of it, getting to know the texture of my hair I used to have as a child.

This is me a few weeks later, a photo taken by my aunt. She's a brilliant photographer actually, and she has two blogs: one for food and one for photos. She hasn't updated in a while but she's busy with life so I'm holding out for the day she revives them. But anyway.

For the next two years, my afro grew...

...and grew...

...and grew...

...until one day it grew so much, I tried to straighten it. It didn't really work out. And, as you can see, I had also dyed my hair which dried it out again. It didn't help that I really had no idea how to take care of my hair now, as in keeping it moisturised or even using enough protective styles. I was a mess.

So I did the one thing I knew how to do: I got a haircut. I figured I was struggling with my hair only because there was so much of it, and if there was less of it I would be able to deal with it. I shaved off the sides.

It was still hella dry but it didn't always look too bad. I discovered how good a twist-out style could look and had collected an assortment of colourful silk ribbons with which to tie my hair back. I could even emulate a young Sokka from the Avatar (Aang) series if I wanted to look extra cool.

Once I graduated from university, I realised it would be difficult for me to get a job. Not only because I was a) Black b) A 'woman', I now had c) An extreme hairstyle. Plus there was the small issue of all the damage I had from the dye and not taking care of my hair properly. My hair was a mess - again. I decided another cut was necessary, and this one was going to be a clean sweep.

My hair was the shortest it had ever been. Even when I was born, I had more hair than I did at the age of 21. This time, I was ready for the cut, enjoying the low-maintenance of it. I educated myself a bit more on haircare and even experimented a bit with braids once it was long enough.

However, no matter how pretty it looked, I couldn't take the itching as my scalp reacted to the synthetic hair after barely a week. I knew as I was freeing my head from the pain, cutting off the plaits with reckless abandon, that I had a new hair goal: grow it long enough so I can plait it like the braids and put all the gold bands and beads in it, too. I was just in love with the style and was disappointed I had to cut my time with it so short. In fact, my mother even had a bet riding on how long my hair would last in that style (clue: she knew it wasn't going to be long).

So this is where I am now in terms of my hair: about six months since the second "big chop" and really looking forward to having consistently healthy hair for the first time since I was maybe ten. I figured if I can get to five years without doing anything stupid to my hair (dyeing it, letting it dry out, heat damage), then I'll be able to see my full hair potential. Until then, I'll be taking good care of my lil 'fro.