So I came home last night and was looking for some inspiration on youtube and decided to google someone who inspires me alot, y'all know him already, Mr X. The thing I admire most about him was his courage. His ability to speak our fears with an unwavering passion. Being an introvert, I find I'm really attracted to people who just speak their minds; no ifs, ands or buts, as that is something I inspire to. By not speaking up, I belive so many ideas and dreams that could have been become either untapped or buried.
Anyways, in the youtubing process I came across a series of interviews called 'daughters of legacy', which examines the relationships of some of the daughters of the most influentuial african-americans of the 20th century.
It shed some light on the emotive, caring character traits of some of these great men which their daughters experienced but which was rarely conveyed by the media. This made me think of two things; my relationship with my father and the need to want to say the same things about him, and secondly what kind of legacy I want to leave behind.
These wonderful women although offspring of great men with lasting legacies, didn't rely on the reputations of their fathers but fought their way through life to create a path for their own legacies.
What I find somewhat interesting is that even though I am African and didn't go through the same history as my american counterparts, I accept that it could have easily been my history. My ancestors could have easily been captured; who knows it could be that they were getting food in the bush or something, whilst their relatives were at home when they got captured. I know it sounds silly but thats my take on it, and that makes me appreciate the work these men did to stand for their rights and regain their honour.
As a result, I feel quite connected to the history of the black diaspora be it in the states or south america. (Interestingly, I remember typing my last name into youtube a few years back and seeing a video of some afro-brazillians doing a sacrificial dance to an ancient african god....crazy huh...talk about being connected).
I was keen to educate myself on slavery upon moving to the West. This was because we weren't taught anything about slavery in elementary school as our syllabuses focussed more on the history of our country post-independence. I had heard of 'Roots', the movie and probably watched it on VCR in those days, however did not fully grasp the meaning as I was too young. I also remember watching a 'roots' play at my private tutoring school, and being enchanted with the following 2 lines:
Person 1: Now when I give you a name you say it, you say it. Now what's your name?
Person 2: Kunta; Kunta Kinte!!!
It's crazy because I loved the rhythm of the words and used to recite it with my siblings jokingly, not understanding the history behind it all.
It was when I came to England to study that I came to realise more so than experience, the 'concept' of racism. This made me confused and made me question why some foreign people acted strangely; because growing up, it was the societal norm to look up to and want to impress the foreigner. (I later came to understand this to be a by product of colonialism, which unfortunately my parents lived through). My question however, was WHY the contempt; WHY treat people you don't know in such a begrudging and belittling manner?
Thankfully, my research over the internet provided a lot of information on the transatlantic slave trade and its after effects which helped to make some sense of what I still feel is nonsense.
Now why am I talking about all this and how does it relate to hair?
You see during my relaxed hair journey, even though I had studied a bit of black history and was trying to embrace my origins instead of trying to fit in with society, I experienced some internal conflicts. One which I was conscious of was my accent and how I had altered it just to fit in so that people saw and treated me differently as they saw me to be a bit like them.
Another conflict which I wasn't at all conscious of till I saw that Malcolm X video was my hair bias. I adored my straight hair and would sometimes compare mine to that of members of other ethnicities thinking, 'oh my hair isn't as thin as hers' or 'my hair is longer than hers'.
When my hair would blow with the wind I'd happily flick it back and loved it when people would stare at me in action (sad...I know).
So you see going natural for me was a labour of love in self acceptance.
I am black and that is pretty obvious; however, I have had people ask if I were somehow mixed because of the health and length of my hair (It wasn't that long, but where I come from any hair below the shoulder is seen as long); I also had a taxi driver here once debate my ancestry with me because of the tone of my skin (see trouble oh). Furthermore, a lecturer once assumed I was from the Caribbean because to him a black person studying in a prestigious institution and who didn't have an american accent could NOT be african.....arggghhhh; the ignorance of some people irritate me (sorry about the rant).
So to me, going natural in one sense is saying this is who I am and where I come from; it is so striking there can't be any other explanation.
At the same time I also loved playing with my new growth. I especially loved how the strands will curl forming very tight waves. The ironic thing is I would then go and relax it as I thought I had 'no choice'. I also remember having a conversation with my Jordanian friend and telling her that if I could change my hair texture, i'd like for it to be curly like Mel B or smth. But thank God I have type 4 hair instead and I love it anyway.
So making that decision helped me put two things together. A pride in my identity which is fueled by expressing a different kind of beauty and eliminating the one standard and secondly being able to wear a hair type that I hadn't known since I was 6 but which I was fascinated by and loved to play with.
