Locs of Love

I have wanted locs since I was 15 years old. My mom wasn’t with the loc shit at all I still got sent to the hair shop every other Saturday to get my hair “tamed.” When I got to be about 16 years old, I decided that I would go natural. Now, natural hair has been around since forever, but it definitely wasn’t widely accepted as it today. I told my hair stylist that I no longer wanted relaxers (she was natural and was fine with that) she told me that going natural was a big step and that I would need to really take care of my hair. I didn’t and my shit got nappier and nappier as the days went on. To make it worse my mom said that if I was deciding to go natural, she wouldn’t pay for my hair (foul and ornery right?) So I was walking around school looking like who done it and why? Not giving a single fuck, until all my hair began to fall out. I’m not one of those girl who says “ look how long my hair USED to be” I’ve always had hair and it’s always been thick and healthy, so when my shit begin to thin and come out every time I combed it, I freaked got all my dead hair, cut and ran back to the creamy crack.

A year or two passed and I decided to try blonde. At one point, my hair was naturally sandy brown with nice blonde natural highlights but the hoodrat in me said: “think of how bad a bitch you would be with your hair platinum blonde!” I went to the shop and my lovely hairstylist warned me that because I was still getting relaxers, my shit might break off. I weighed out my options and decided that I wouldn’t risk ALL of my hair. But, as a 19-year-old going through her first real break up (that Wiz love again) I decided to jump bang first into the blonde. Of course, I looked bomb. It was summer, my skin was golden and my hair matched. But, no matter how much oil I put into that damn bang, the shit would lightly crinkle to the floor every time I combed it. I eventually let it grow out until I only had blonde tips.

Then, when I got pregnant with my son, I decided that I wouldn’t be getting relaxers anymore. This time I made sure to take care of my hair. I went every two weeks for my shampoo, deep condition and flatty. My hair was healthy and had almost fully recovered from my high school situation. I knew how to do knot outs, braid outs and I loved that my hair was healthy again. Flash forward to my 2016 faux locs (if you pronounce faux as ‘fox’ go ahead and slap yourself right kneeow) I loved my faux locs so much that I decided that I wanted to keep them. I had been natural for about two years at this point but I had done a great job of taking care of my hair. Everyone loved the faux locs and commented on how bomb I was with them. So boom, summer comes and it’s hotter than two fat bitches fightin in a phone booth over a Starbucks card (it was really hella hot and I’m fat as hell so I can say this) It was the perfect time to loc my hair.

I decided to start my hair with two strand twists and sat in the chair while my hair stylist counted out 129 locs. I was literally in love all over again. When I first came around my family they all told me how cute it was and asked how long I would be keeping them. I informed everyone that I was getting locs and that this was pretty much a permanent situation. Pretty much every member of my family asked “why?” and insinuated that my hair was too beautiful to loc. (as if locs are ugly) I stayed with em and after about 8 months, my hair was finally locked! I was pumped to say the least and I started doing cute mini styles as my locs started from twists that could unravel fairly easily if I touched it too much. It’s been nearly two years since I started my loc journey and I am still going strong. I bleached my locs around my birthday and I feel finer than ever. Some of my family members are still a bunch of hater hoes, but I pay them no mind. I feel more like myself than I ever have before and just the thought of getting rid of my locs gives me anxiety. (I actually tried to comb one out and damn near had a panic attack) If my son lets me, I would like to loc his hair as well.

All of this leads up to the question:

Why the fuck do people care about what you’re doing to YOUR hair?

Have any of you ever felt this way? I swear I be annoyed on a daily.

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