Since my senior year of college I’ve rocked a nappy kind of afro. Sometimes it was with less pride and enthusiasm. Over time I’ve learned more about hair, how to take care of it, and I have greatly increased my love and appreciation for how my hair is. I’m protective of it now and blush when a black woman admires my tight consistent coils. Though I still have my moments where I wish it were more 3 type and less 4 type. Currently I have locs and am not hating myself for what some people call “the rough looking” phase.
My family still makes less than flattering comments about the fro and the locs. I use to get called Boondocks, referring to Huey Freeman, a character from Aaron McGruder's comics. It’s all very self hating and quite sad. I legitimately don’t know what my mom’s natural hair looks like. I’ve never seen it. My sister once told me that she wished she had a different kind of hair, that she didn’t like her own. I was saddened by it. And it’s all very disheartening that many Black and Brown people are made to believe very early on that the way they originally or naturally are is unacceptable.