Journey to Natural Hair

If you had asked me eight months ago if I was going to big chop, the answer would’ve been a resounding “NO!”. Sure I’d toyed with the idea of having short hair, transitioning into it slowly and seeing if it could work for me but, truth be told, I clung even harder to my relaxed hair as weeks went on. The idea that I could just throw on a relaxer whenever provided me with a strange comfort however, I didn’t realize that with each and every passing day, the decision to go natural was pretty much being made for me.

My last relaxer was October 31st, 2014 and back then I was definitely JUST kidding. I liked my length. I’d grown used to having relaxed hair after having it that way for 9 years. It had become part of my identity. Sure, it had thinned out a lot since I first got it done and I still had no idea how it had turned a subtle tinge of red, but it was pretty low maintenance and as a girl who simply can’t be bothered to have my hair done up all the time, it worked for me.

All of that pretty much went down the toilet when I moved to Boston. Dominican Hair salons were few and far between. African Hair Braiding shops wanted blood and my firstborn child for a sew-in. I hadn't rocked braids in years and had (admittedly silly) fears about what I'd look like, so that wasn't even a real option. The dilemma was quickly resolved when I escaped to New Jersey for a precious two days around Halloween and got to perm my hair.

However, once January rolled around and I was back in Boston, my back was yet again, against a wall. I had a serious decision to make: was I going to pay an arm and a leg for monthly chemical treatments or actually transition back to natural hair? After a quick glance at my bank account and the way it was set up, I chose the latter. But not at all whole heartedly.

The very first thing I did was get a weave. It was my own way of experimenting. I’ve always wanted "Mermaid hair" and if I was going to do a protective style while I let my natural hair grow out, I was going to do it in an obnoxious way. I got green to teal hair.

While I’d enjoyed my time as a mermaid, it was finally time to return to where the people were (Menken anyone?). Little did I know that the worst surprise ever was about to befall me. Did my hair grow in? YES. But the weave and the slew of natural new growth had either utterly confused or angered (or both!) my relaxed hair and DUN DUN DUN, there hell to pay!

As I removed my extensions, I noticed some matted areas with devilish tangles which led to satanic knots which meant *snip snip* goodbye, hair. I tried to salvage my tresses by carefully combing through, but my frustration with the whole ordeal made it difficult for me to be gentle. Soon enough, I was hacking away at my hair. Huge hair bunnies were on the floor, but it had been a couple weeks so that much hair loss ought to be normal right? (Riiight??) Of this, I was unsure, but what I was certain of was that the thickness of my natural hair in no way matched the stringy thinness of my relaxed hair. With each snip, I watched the mass of hair I’d been growing for almost 10 years fall to the ground.

I'm not going to lie. I almost cried. I felt betrayed by my own hair. But honestly, my own hair probably felt betrayed by me as well. So I probably shouldn’t have been too surprised they decided to break up with me. It still hurt though. So much for a “protective” style.

Insecure about my much thinner and visibly shorter hair, I finally decided to try another protective style: braids. After four hours of sitting still in a chair and nearly three large bags of hair later, I was rocking braids for the first time in 12 years.

It actually came out much better than I thought it would. After getting over feeling like I was holding a newborn baby on my head the first few days, I began to experiment and try different styles with my braids. I was loving it!

It gave me a new look and newfound confidence. I knew what the braids represented and I was riding an Afro-centric wave, honey. Most importantly, the braids meant that I didn't have to deal with my confused, angry, rebellious two-textured hair. I'd even made sure to do my research this time, to make sure my hair wouldn't matte by learning how to gently wash my hair with braids in. I used all the moisturizers necessary to make sure my scalp and edges were satisfied. All was well in Hairland. Or so I thought...

After a few weeks, it was finally time to take the hair out. To my dismay, the same thing happened again! Huge knots. Everywhere. Only this time, it was way worse.

I actually cried. I was so frustrated. I’d done everything right. Washed the way the blogs said, used the right hair oils, etc, etc...but my hair was clearly still bitter.

​I had had it. I was going to go bald at this rate. I cursed myself for being cheap and not just going to the Boston hair salons and offering my arm, my leg and Josh (my first-born son fyi). If only I’d bitten the bullet and swallowed my pride, I wouldn't be in my present mess.

After emerging from the fog of frustration, I finally sought help. I didn’t know what I was doing and I desperately needed assistance. I reached out to my friend Chevahn to help me detangle.

Chevahn came over and assessed the damage. She'd confirmed what I knew to be true - my hair was unhappy. As she carefully detangled with oil (and not water which shrinks the curls and makes it harder to detangle, a mistake I was definitely guilty of), she talked me through my hair struggles. I read her my list of woes: constant tangles and knots, fears of going bald, second guessing why I ever second guessed just getting a perm again.

Chevahn listened carefully to every gripe and just encouraged me. She 'ooh-ed' and 'ahh-ed' at the texture of my natural hair. "Awww your curlies are so cute," she gushed. Still too miffed at my hair to believe her, she took a few snapshots and showed it to me. She was right, they were kind of cute and coily and definitely looked a lot healthier than my relaxed hair which hung limply at the end of the coils.

​Chevahn graciously asked permission to trim away split ends and knots that were irreparable. She asked me what I wanted to do. I had no idea but I definitely hated the current state of affairs. As she moisturized and twisted my hair into baby twists, I started to think seriously about finally chopping. I'd seen what my hair could look like and what it desperately seemed to want. It was just up to me to make the decision. I told her I'd sleep on it.

​Just a week later, I'd come to a decision. It was time for the rest of my relaxed ends to go. They'd thwarted me for the last time. Excited, Chevahn set aside a date for the big chop. She asked me if I'd like to film it, I said 'Sure' and soon enough, I found myself sitting in front of her camera.

With a towel around my shoulders as she worked through my hair with Ecostyler gel and a pair of hair scissors, Chevahn worked through my hair coil by coil. She snipped and snipped away the hair I'd had for more than half my life. As the pieces hit the ground, I didn't shed a tear. I didn't even feel sad. I cast them a glance that could only be accurately described as "Bye, Girl." I was unbothered.

​​About an hour or so later, I was finally done.

My hair was short. RULL short. My shrinkage was ridiculous. But it was also kind of cute. I could get used to this.

Right after my big chop :)

Accessorizing like a boss!

Chevahn read me all the pros of the new hair. No tangles. Easy washes. No more knots. Quick styling. NO TANGLES. This was going to be great!

I turned my head from side to side and took in my teeny weeny afro. The curls were poppin'. It suited my face. I actually looked my age for the first time in my entire life. I felt like a new woman.

​Samson's hair was his strength and long hair might be some women's pride and joy, but the confidence I felt with my new do was undeniable. My beauty was not wrapped up in my hair. It never truly defined me. I realized that I'd given it so much power. I was still the same Shaneez on the inside whether my hair was long or short, in braids or bright green. I was still beautiful. Inside and out.

“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” - 1 Peter 3:3-4