Akosua Osei

Writing For the Social Sciences 20100

Alyssa Yankwitt

3/1/22

Crown On My Head

They say that hair completes a person. Of course, your clothes matter, the shoes you wear, accessories like necklaces, rings, bracelets, watches, and the brightness of your skin, but to me, what makes someone’s outfit, their being, who they are, is their hair. For years, I’ve been insecure about my hair which is normal for every girl but as a person of color, as a Ghanaian American, the pressure was and still can be immense. One of the best decisions I ever made in my life was to cut my hair all over again and do finger waves. The finger waves to me represent a fresh start, a new beginning, a new me. Cutting my hair was like cutting off the negativity I associated with my hair journey and self-image.

From a young age, I was used to “texturizing” my hair. The purpose of texturizing is to loosen up your curls to “maintain a smooth look and make your hair less frizzy. Important figures in my life such as my mother and my aunts would say it is supposed to “make your hair like white people’s: soft, silky, and most importantly, straight.” Going to Ghana frequently, the media back home would portray light-skinned women with long, permed hair as desirable whilst dark-skinned women with natural hair would be seen as undesirable since they hadn’t texturized. When not in Ghana I would be in New York and the same idea was also portrayed. I would see countless women and girls my age with luscious 4c hair: a natural hair type that’s very kinky and thick, go and texturize what was once their beautiful crown to fit into society. Texturizing was what seemed like a ticket created by society to be seen as a woman, to be seen as a whole, to seem desirable. Despise the immense peer pressure, my mother decided to stop texturizing our hair and embrace our natural beauty when I was six.

Because of this and many other reasons, I was the subject of bullying. My peers would often make comments like: “Why is it poofy like that?” “It’s not straight so it’s not nice,” “It makes you look like a monkey.” These comments and many more made me hate having my hair out and made me feel uncomfortable in my natural state. When I would go back to Ghana, I would feel comfortable in my skin, comfortable with my hair, and comfortable with myself. Dealing with this internal self-conflict and internalized hate towards myself, at the age of 13, I decided to go back to the white, thick, creamy crack: texturizer. At first, it felt good to fit in again, to have what I hated myself for not having. Then the natural hair movement came. Women of color started to embrace their skin color, protective hairstyles like braids, weaves, wigs, faux locks, their culture, and embrace themselves. The pressure to follow the trend had gotten to me again, so I decided to cut all my texturized hair and start fresh.

Once again, I felt good since I had what everyone wanted, but eventually, the feeling faded. The feelings of internalized self-hate and low self-esteem started to creep up on me again and that energy started to stint the growth of my hair. One late summer afternoon in 2021 at my grandparent’s house after getting frustrated and crying because I could not do my hair, I looked at myself and saw that I was tired. Tired of feeling ugly and undesirable. Tired of only feeling pretty when I have braids. Tired of having low self-esteem. I told my cousin I wanted to perm and cut my hair. She set up an appointment for me. On the day of my appointment, I was nervous because this felt like a life-changing decision that I couldn’t go back and fix. I sat in the chair and the hairstylist applied the white, creamy crack to my hair, I had crossed the line and it was too late to turn back. I watched as he cut away years of depression and trauma away. He asked what hairstyle I want and as I debated, I chose finger waves. And as he took the tools, he needed to style my hair, I felt relief. I felt happy.

I chose finger waves because of the symbolism behind them. This hairstyle came out when Black women were taking back their beauty and so am I. The finger waves to me represent me taking back all the years that I hated being me, hated being in my skin. The finger waves represent who I truly am. I am me.