Hair.

Like almost any part-African (and probably almost any woman), I talk and think about my hair a lot. More than once my house mate has mentioned just how much I talk about my hair. It is to the extent, that she could quite easily tell you which days of the week I wash my hair and what products I use…I’m a little obsessed.

It’s become even more of an obsession these last few months, since I started growing it back. Sometime in April last year, I did the World’s Greatest Shave and had quite the buzz cut. I think it was something I needed to do and try, and for almost a year I kept it that way and got a ridiculous amount of satisfaction from shaving my hair off each fortnight. It felt like I was rebelling against all those hair stereotypes that surround African style hair. I didn’t want a ‘fro, and I was definitely ready to tell anyone who would listen how I felt about afros. I’ve always had a strong dislike of them because of some people, often strangers, seem to have this irrepressible desire to reach out and touch my hair. To the curious, afro hair really can be the equivalent of a pregnant belly to a clucky woman.

So, what am I on about? Well it’s growing, millimetre by millimetre and instead of the intense hatred I used to have for my hair, I’ve become accustomed to it and a little inspired to try out new styles and colours. For this I have blogs like Kinky Like Me to thank and all those random videos on youtube which document African American womens ‘big chop’ and their way back to healthy African hair.

I know I’ll get sick of it again, it’s just one of those things. But for now I’m happy to keep riding this buzz out.

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