I AM My Hair: Or, Why I've Chosen to "Rebrand"

I came to understand myself as a little girl through the beauty rituals of black womanhood: weekend days in the salon with my mother and sister; hours between my mother's knees as she combed, oiled, and braided; endless tears over lost handfuls of hair after a first relaxer or braid-job gone wrong.

I agree with India Arie when she says; "it's not what's onyour head, it's what's underneath," but I also challenge her: the notion "I am not my hair" denies two realities — First: that Black women are defined by our physical appearance whether we choose to accept or reject those definitions, and second: that the way we adorn our body—literally what we wear, how we look—has a significant affect on our psyche. 

This isn’t news to anyone: you look good, you feel good.  I personally discovered this idea my sophomore year of undergrad after I stopped relaxing my hair— realizing that the person I felt myself to be on the inside did not match up with the person I (and other people) saw on the outside.

As part of a continuing process of self educating, I’ve been reading Rock My Soul: Black People and Self Esteem by the brilliant bell hooks. hooks relies on a quote from Six Pillars of Self-Esteem by Nathaniel Branden: “Integrity is the integration of ideals, convictions, standards, beliefs—and behavior. When our behavior is congruent with our professed values, when ideals and practice match, we have integrity.”
To revisit this idea, I’ve recently undergone a process of rebranding. I call it "rebranding" with an ounce of sarcasm, but I am fully committed to the idea. Here’s how I’m hoping this works: Change the way you look–> change the way you feel–> change the way you are perceived. (Depending on who you are or the circumstance, it could also go this way: change the way you look--> change the way you are perceived--> change the way you feel). 

I realized, in not so many words, that I was not living with integrity. My theory was not integrated with my practice. I believed in the beauty of blackness, but did not perform it. Until I stopped relaxing my hair, I never realized how far from my true self I had been in the past. 

So. I cut off half of my hair. Lost fifteen pounds. Changed my subtle nose ring to the hoop I've always wanted. There’s something empowering about using my body as a site of resistance. (What I mean by this is best explained by youth scholar Sarah Abbots: the body is a site at which oppression is manifested, and from which resistance can be generated.) 

By refusing to conform to a standard of beauty set forth by a seemingly invisible something/one (white, heterosexual males), I’m literally embodying the belief that no one's definition of beautiful is more valuable than mine. 

By wearing my hair natural, I’m prioritizing my own aesthetic over that of an Anglo-Saxon culture that has defined straight hair as beautiful. By wearing my hair short, I’m prioritizing my own aesthetic over that of a patriarchal one that defines long hair as beautiful. If we keep conforming to a standard that tells us that the body in which we feel most comfortable is wrong, ugly, to be hidden, to be adorned only in a way that they approve of, (sick, even), then the definition will not ever shift. We remain prisoners to other people’s thoughts. We give them power.

A teacher of mine once told me “don’t let anyone have power over you.” It is the most valuable lesson I have received to date.  By doing what I want with my body and not apologizing for it (from with whom I choose to share my body to what I put on it or in it), I am choosing to not let anyone have power over me. 

hooks encourages us [black people] to develop oppositional consciousness as a way to decolonize our minds. She defines decolonization of the mind as “letting go of patterns of thought and behavior that prevent us from being self-determining.” In letting go of the ideals that have been created by oppressors and sustained by oppressive systems, I am freeing my mind. 

In short, Nina Simone said it best: Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel. In an effort to get free, I'm trying to learn how to be okay with doing what I want. I am my hair. I am my body. I am my mind. It is a process. Get free, y’all.

 

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Nobody Owes You Anything

 I’m unsure if I should thank godsend humbling experiences, but I’ve learned that no one owes me anything: a job, support, money, a “hook up”, or a Twitter shout out.  Therefore, imagine my surprise when I learned many people who I follow via Twitter do not agree. Recently, I witnessed Twitter Nazis from my university digitally attack Stephen A. Smith for not vocalizing the football team’s recent feats on a major network.  I was left confused as to why people believed that because this man’s degree retained the university’s name, it was an empowering implication that he would exude school pride.  I’m sure Smith’s success up to this point is independent of where he received his undergraduate degree, just as a college education is independent of one’s intelligence.  Moreover, the twitter rant revealed a more salient revelation—the dangers inherent in a sense of entitlement.

I am completely aware that Twitter is a cesspool for pretentious folk. I know this.  As I find myself entertained at the laughable attempts of portraying the pretense of no pretense, I’m reminded of the several instances in which these behaviors permeated academia.   I’ve witnessed several students become angered by ignored emails in their passable attempts at networking. Or, they become displeased at the lack of opportunities they failed to cultivate themselves. As a student in college, you are granted that much more access to a balance between support and resources. How you utilize what is in front of you, however, is your choice and dependent upon your own initiative.  My university’s football team achieved an undefeated season without Stephen A. Smith. Why anyone would want someone who refused involvement at the beginning of a process to be part of their eventual success is beyond me.

I believe one must have a “manageable” sense of entitlement in order to gain a decent level of respect. However, it becomes unmanageable when you expect recognition or support for achievements that are not applaudable.  Life is about access.  You are not entitled to that access.  Your major, achievements made as an alumnus, and self-proclaimed accomplishments are all independent of this access.  Unless you are taking initiative towards your 10,000 hours of expertise (I highly recommend reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell), then your campus involvement and accomplishments achieved within the same student population for however many years becomes trivial once you graduate and compete globally. 

I decided to write this article without any intention to minimize anyone’s accomplishments, as I am positive many are well deserved and worthy of recognition.  However, you owe it to yourself to make “excellence” function as your adjective, and to surpass the expectations of others without looking for their recognition.   Stephen A. Smith continued to live his life, earning a salary, accolades, and with no interest to concede to the requests of angry students. As for the students, well, they continued to rant.  The more you feel you are entitled or that someone owes you, the further you isolate yourself from your own happiness.

de$ap

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