There is absolutely nothing that rivals hair day in black households. There’s something pretty epic about preparing for hair washing, scalp oiling, and tress braiding. If you’re of the younger variety, there may also be some tears. Maybe a lot of tears, until you see your hair in the mirror and realize that you look cute. In my house, there is a LOT of hair to do. It used to be a lot more hair until we cut Sir Twizzler’s hair, and now Nathaniel will tighten his own locs.
I usually have to start on hair early in the morning. I say this because the hair of the girls is normally in braids or twists. Taking those down without tears tends to be a lesson in patience. Then, I must wash, and moisturize. THEN, I must style.
The girls tend to start with negotiations about who should go first, and why. Mom gets final say though.
I know that I’ve been talking about a lot of things that are sources of pride for black people, and black women in general, and I’m not making any apologies for that. I think with the way that our country is headed, it’s important for me to remember my roots, and why they are mine to own.
Hair braiding, and twisting, and scalp oiling is how I spent most of my Saturday nights before church on Sunday morning. I always tried to convince my mother that I was old enough to wear my hair down, instead of in ponytails, or braided up into a style. Now I am that mother quietly letting her daughters know that this won’t be the Sunday that they get to wear their hair free either. Mostly because neither of us wants to deal with the aftermath of letting those tightly wound curls run free on the heads of little ones that are known for gleefully throwing dirt into the air and squealing as it lands in their heads.
I managed to get both heads done while in St. Louis and this is what we ended up with (shout out to Mor-Mor Baby for doing the ladybug’s hair – the girl is whipping her hair back and forth like a pro) in the end.
Guys, we’re creating head shaking monsters, and I’m here for it.
Do any great stories surround the act of combing hair in your home? Share those with me in the comments. Until then…
What little cuties! My girls used to get the worst tangles in their hair, only because they didn’t want me to brush their hair on a regular basis. The worst was when one child brought home lice. I sat for many hours in front of the TV going through their hair with a fine-toothed comb. I wouldn’t call that a great story, however!
Keep sharing these stories. I love reading them. And we know it’s all about me. (KIDDING.)
Wheeewww who you telling!! It is a struggle to get my lil miss’ hair done. She will bargain, hide in her room, find excuses not to do it, and most times I end up leaving it for another day (tooo tired).