By Amanda Phelps @theamandaphelps

Four years old. That’s also how old I was when I received my very first relaxer. Unbeknownst to me, it was also the beginning of my journey to loving myself. My father owned and ran a hair salon in the basement of my childhood home. He did my hair and my mother’s hair when I was a child and continued doing so well into my adolescent years. This particular day, he sat me in the salon chair, hoisted it up as high as it would go, and then began sectioning my hair into parts. I wasn’t fully aware of what was going on, but I knew I was getting my hair done just like the adults and that was enough for me. I remember when my scalp began to itch and tingle. I went against my father’s warnings and put my hands into my hair to scratch it. I removed my fingers from my hair and studied the white substance on them. I got in trouble for touching it. Nevertheless, the deed was done and thus began my relaxed hair journey. 

Most anything that a person deals with is a result of their childhood. When I look back on my childhood, I can recall daily affirmations of love and self-esteem that were poured into me. My mother would regularly reaffirm my brothers and me that our dark complexion was beautiful. Other than that, colorism nor texturism were really topics of conversation in our home. They were actually almost non-existent. My mother always made a point to express to us that skin tone does not determine how attractive a person is, but she nor my father ever went into detail about colorism. They also never talked much about loving our hair, which is ironic given my father’s profession. The majority of the conversations my parents had with us were intended to teach us to be proud of our blackness and to know, “who we are and whose we are.” However, some of the subconscious, preconceived mindsets that my parents were taught about texturism were unintentionally passed on to my brothers and to me by way of their actions and sometimes their words. 

My “Good Hair” Friend

An example of this comes from my “good hair” friend that I’d made as a child. She was the daughter of one of my father’s clients. Her “good hair” reached her backside. Everyone used to gawk over how beautiful her hair was, including me. One day, she asked my father for a relaxer. He initially refused but eventually gave in after she continued to beg. He and my mother would often converse about how much her hair didn’t “need” a relaxer. That instantly let me know that for some reason, my hair did. Before I had the chance to enter grade school I had learned that if hair was kinky, it needed to be straightened. If your hair needed to be straightened, it wasn’t pretty. When I was a child, I didn’t even realize that kinky hair had the option to be free from chemicals. The entire idea of a black girl with kinky hair and no relaxer was completely unfathomable for me. I spent many years thinking and feeling that my hair was ugly and if I didn’t have a relaxer, that meant I was ugly, too.

Becoming

Since becoming an adult and embarking upon my own natural hair journey, I have realized how important it is to pour positive affirmations about hair texture into girls when they are young. This is especially important for young black girls. More specifically, young, dark skinned black girls. While I am a little late to the natural hair movement, I am very happy to be here.  I have spent so many years loving who I thought was really who I am when in fact, I was loving a falsified version of myself. A version that was altered and manipulated to meet the criteria of someone who deemed who I am and what I really look like to be unattractive, unwanted, and unloved. I have had to learn to love myself all over again which has been a jarring experience for me. It’s almost as if I just found out that I was adopted and I am now retracing every part of my entire being to unpack whether or not any of my life experiences were really true. I would not wish that feeling on anyone. As uncomfortable as this experience has been for me, it has also been incredibly rewarding. Learning to love my natural hair has taught me to explore the real me. This journey has forced me to embrace my roots as well as what and who I truly come from. I think if all girls are able to meet and love who they really are from the very beginning, a shift in the black community will begin to take place. Afterall, when a person truly knows who they are and where they come from, they have a much better chance of knowing exactly where they are going.

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