Pressing the Black Out; Hot Combs, Fear and Culture (#30DayRBHC)

I was conditioned to sit in that chair, stiff as a doll, while a metal comb was racked across my scalp so that my savage curls could be transformed into straight, flowing hair. A reminder that I was not beautiful as I was; only beautiful when I was able to look like something I was not. And when it was time to wash out the whiteness that came at the end of a smoking metal comb, I would dread the hours of combing through my unruly blackness, blow drying, and hot combing it again. A process that would take hours, but would begin to signify my conditioned perception of beauty until I became 36 years old and began to really question who I was underneath the perm, endless amount of hours, and burned flesh. [Read more…]

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Natural. Hair. Magick.

My first exposure to the concept of hair as a magickal thing came from my West-African step-father. Whenever my mother would cut his hair, he would meticulously gather up all of the hair to be buried. Now that I’m living full time in the realms of the mystical, I find myself regularly saying and doing things that are *way* more “out there” than anything he ever said. [Read more…]

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Discovering my Inner, Nappy Headed Goddess

My hair is kinky. It is frizzy and so unlike what I am used to. I have been close to going natural with my hair for some time now, and yet society always pulls me back. [Read more…]

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