I Love My Hair!

As a kid, other children poked fun at me for many things; my exotic name, my full lips, my grades.

It's funny, though; the attributes that people despised about me when I was younger, became assets as I grew older. My name went from bizarre to unique, my lips were admired for their plumpness, and my academic record opened doors for me.

But one thing consistently sets me apart for either rabid, irresistible praise or almost irrationally angry ridicule: my hair.

As a kid, other children poked fun at me for many things; my exotic name, my full lips, my grades.

It's funny, though; the attributes that people despised about me when I was younger, became assets as I grew older. My name went from bizarre to unique, my lips were admired for their plumpness, and my academic record opened doors for me.

But one thing consistently sets me apart for either rabid, irresistible praise or almost irrationally angry ridicule: my hair.

In response, I begged my mother to straighten my hair when I was a little girl; a process that involved heating a metal comb over a hot stove and sizzling my hair with it for at least four hours, until my hair was completely straight. This straightness was temporary – as soon as humidity, rain, or drops of water from the shower hit my tresses, they returned to their coily shape. My hair in its natural form took hours to comb through; it was a strong, huge, thick mass of verve and strength. But I didn't see it that way.

When I was thirteen years old, I got my first relaxer, a rite of passage for many a little Black girl. No more hot-combing for me! Now my hair would be as luxurious and long as the women in the Pantene commercials.

Except it wasn't. My hair looked healthy and long and straight, but it was a reflection of someone else. It wasn't…me.

I wish I could say that the Lord got a hold of my heart and affirmed me as His beloved, and freed me to be the me that He created me to be, natural hair and all. What really happened is I was a broke college student who no longer had money for hair salons, so I grew my natural hair out. And in 1993, that was NOT cool. I had people shouting at me from their cars that I was "stupid" and needed to "put a comb through [my] hair" or "get a perm." It was difficult.

I was watching a video from Sesame Street: a simple song sung by a little girl who loves her hair and talks about it with excitement. The back-story of the video can be seen here. 

The gist is so much like the Father's love for us as His daughters (and not just our souls – he holistically loves us!), I tear up just thinking about it: a father adopts his daughter from another place and loves her as his own (like Galatians 4:4-6). She is uneasy with aspects of herself that the world tells her are unattractive or inferior (1 John 2:16). He harnesses his position of influence in order to explain to the little girl in a language and vehicle that she can understand and relate to (who Jesus is to us in Romans 5:6-8), that she is beautiful and accepted.

Here are some passages that remind me of the Father's assurance and love:

Genesis 1:26-31

Psalm 8:3-5

Zephaniah 3:17

John 3:16

Romans 5:8

Ephesians 5:25-27

That is the Father's message to us: He created us, body and soul, and delights in us, even when Pantene commercials try to convince us of our lack. He went through great lengths, sending His Son to die for us, to show us how He values us. He invites us to accept His love, and frees us to be our true selves.

And so…one way I personally praise Him is by tossing the hot comb and rocking the 'fro.