This is probably my favorite picture. It captures one of my “pamper me” days. I wash my hair, indulge in several Lily Rose skin treatments and rituals and walk around naked (if my son isn’t home). This picture reflects everything that I love about myself.
It also highlights this natural curly, wavy, something kinda hair that I am discovering. My beautiful daughter is natural. And as I was encouraging her to stay natural a couple of years ago, I had a “moment”.
In good faith and consciousness, I could not encourage my daughter to be something or do something that I was not doing. I am many things but a hypocrite is not one of them.
So, that day; I stood in the mirror and started to cut the perm out of my hair. Very slowly. Every time I washed it, I would cut it a little shorter and shorter. As my hair was growing, I could clearly see the processed strings that I was calling strands.
Half of my head was in its natural state and the lower half was this permed mess and I kept cutting until one day, I only had about an inch of string left. And I decided, I am not holding on to this processed, imitation hair any longer. It has to go. Today.
And it was gone. I looked at those strands in the sink and held them in my hands. The hair was fine, and split and thin. Compared to this thick beautiful mane I now had.
I felt good.
I was getting one step closer to my authentic freedom and my authentic beauty. I am not on an anti wig or weave campaign. Those have a place. I love a cute ponytail or a bold wig.
But now, its an accessory and not an identity.
Girl, you preaching.
Loving who I am cannot be a feigned process. It has to be authentic. From a real and genuine place.
A place from where I make all decisions.
Anything that hurts me has to go.
Perm is a chemical. Its dangerous. It ruins what is natural and authentic. It alters original state.
It is not good.
It had to go.
In exchange for letting go of the bad, I got a head full of good. Beautiful. Different. Authentic. Messy.
But ALL GOOD.
I can rub my scalp and actually feel my scalp. Something a ton of women cannot do.
I also got another surprise.
More adoration from my little girl. The one being who is second to God (along with my son) in importance in my life. She looks at me with those eyes, looking for herself. Watching what I do. What I say. What I allow.
She is learning who she is through my journey.
What she should allow. What she should never. Shaping her “becoming”.
Her opinion of me reigns supreme. It carries such significance. It is how I measure almost everything I decide to do or not do because I am acutely aware of how significant I am.
In her life.
The life of a girl child. The life of a life carrier. The life of the womb of mankind. She is will be a Mother of the Earth.
A Mother of the freaking earth.
It’s that serious. Its always that serious when destiny is looking at you. When greatness is staring you in the face expecting you to show the way.
Be the way.
A heavy load for a Mommy.
But it is what is required. What I gladly give. I am better. She is making me better.
The power of Daughter.
The amazing Power of Daughter.
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