Hi, my name is Lee-Anne.
I was addicted to the creamy crack, and I probably still am.
Despite not indulging for years, my choice to go completely natural was not mine.
Yes, I had considered it and had even started stretching out my relaxers and was slowly going on my own kind of hair journey, which included protective styling and generally taking better care of my hair by taking more notice of the products I was using(Wots Her Name Again Hair Journey).
However, the choice was ultimately made for me, living with an autoimmune disease called Lupus and having been put on steroids to combat it.
Suddenly my hair was coming out in clumps, and I was advised to avoid relaxers until my condition and medications were consistent was stable(Wots Her Name Again Hair Journey).
I can’t remember quite when my relationship with relaxers started, but I think it started before I
was eight, as I remember dreading Sundays when my hair would have to be washed and
braided. I hated having my hair done!
A combination of a lack of understanding of how to maintain my hair and a distinct lack of
time and patience from my single black mother culminated in my ‘hair day’ being akin to being tortured.
Tears were shed, combs were hidden in VCR and licks were given.
I also remember being told that my hair was picky, tough (I think I told a few people that, too) and
coarse, not long, shiny and silky like my dolls or the white women on the TV, but that’s what I wanted.
One day after a particularly stressful session of getting my hair done (For both my mother and
myself), a broken wide tooth was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
You’re getting a relaxer she angrily shouted at me.
Thinking this was some kind of punishment, I cried. The following week she came home with a box of PCJ relaxer for girls. The American models looked so trendy to me with their silky hair in fashionable styles; better still, they were black like me!
“Is my hair going to look like that, Mum?” I asked hopefully, to which she replied, “Yes”.
I don’t think anyone forgets their first perm; I defiantly didn’t.
Oh, I was feeling myself. It was shiny and soft, and the comb ran right through it, yes! I was feeling myself.
From then, it was a blur of hairstyles throughout my adolescence and adulthood; braids, weaves,
bobs, you name it, I did it.
How did you grow your hair so long? My white colleagues would often ask in amazement when I
sashayed into the office with hair down to my back.
Shrinkage, shedding, breakage, dry scalp and chemical burns I experienced it.
Saunas, steam rooms and swimming pools I avoided it
All to have what I considered beautiful hair.
Here I am three years deep, and I am still learning about how to maintain and appreciate properly
and love my African hair.
Deep conditions, co-wash, moisturise and seal, and protective styles, oh yes, I am learning.
The more I understand, the more I am becoming comfortable with my hair in its natural
state.
The question is would I relax my hair again in the future?
The politics of hair has been well discussed: perm versus natural, making a symbolic play on your
cultural awareness.
I refuse to belong to any particular camp but am fully aware that knowledge of self is a delicious power and choice, and fashion is not a thing that can be politically determined or
confined.
Have you gone natural, and if so, do you ever miss relaxers?
Comment below