‘I hate my hair.’
She used to cry and scream.
She did it repeatedly and it became the truth.
She despised it more than anything.
She hated her hair.
The curly wire locks and the expanding mess of curls.
She hated the way it dried up like withered fruit,
Scorched by the heat and left to hang on it’s branch
Her hair endured hate
Beyond any other body part
Beyond any other flaw and any other drawback
An intrinsic piece of her being
And her hair would burn
It would smoulder and sting
At the heat of an iron and it would cry.
It broke and it melted
But that didn’t stop her.
Her hair would be straight
It would become luscious and flowing
It would match the presences on television
It would glisten and appear strong
But her hair hated her
After being baptised
And washed free of the heat
Of the smouldering chemicals
And the paralytic composition,
Her hair would screech.
It revolted and screamed.
It tore it’s ends apart.
It broke itself to pieces.
Her hair would oppose.
It became drier than powder
And it turned as golden as the sun.
It refused to disembroil
Its locks from one another.
And slowly they descended
Into a state of madness
Where she finally accepted
That her hair must stay natural.
But her hair was not hated
By herself alone
Her mother, her friends and society.
They all had their own thoughts
“Your hair is unruly,
It is truly unkempt
How do you even step outside?
That’s a wild, messy nest”
“You hair must be dirty
I mean, doesn’t dust
Find it’s way between your curls
And lock itself into those wire strands?”
Her hair was resented
By everyone around her
Criticism and spite
Surrounded her being.
She finally loved her hair.
She feuded and battled.
But it was too much
The crushing pressure of judgement
Her hair became straight
It stopped its protesting
It hung limp and formless
Cascading down her skull.
Her hair was tamed.
It was no longer wild
It had lost its life
And she no longer tried.
And as it lie dead
It became less appealing
Society changed it’s view
And began rejecting it again.
Her curly hair was now gone
Society was mad
“Why did you change it?
Not leave it natural?”
“You should never change your hair
That’s why it is limp
It’s that straightening iron you use
You murdered it, it’s gone!”
“We don’t like your new hair
Why would you do such a thing!
That frizz gave you character
Those curls were your label!”
“You old hair was amazing!”
Was? She suddenly saddens
What they were saying
Was so confusing to her.
She cut off her hair
That day she cried
Curled up in the corner of her room
Her eyes puffed up, nose running.
Her head bare.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s