A fellow producer at work has asked me multiple times if I’ve seen the Chris Rock documentary, Good Hair.  I haven’t. Please don’t revoke my black card. I’ve heard about it. It seems like a movie I should want to see. However, I haven’t made the effort to see it yet.  And it struck me tonight as I looked at my chosen hairstyle for the last few days that I probably hadn’t seen it because it would be boring.  

I don’t know the particulars of the movie, but I’m assuming it has something to do with the struggle of being black and female and kinkyhaired in an American world that prides blonde flowing locks. And you know what, I know that story.  I’ve lived that story.  Me and that story are like the bestest of buds. 

I’m thinking about this because I got my hair did on Monday.  I primarily wear my hair kind of kinky curly.  I kind of like being THAT girl with the HAIR.  I don’t get it relaxed anymore, but I do have a texturizer done about every three months. (I would like to point out that tumblr thinks I have spelled texturizer incorrectly. This is not a word it recognizes.) It also may not be a word you recognize.  Well sir or madam, a texturizer is kind of like a really mild relaxer.  Instead of leaving it on until my hair is bone straight, the stylist puts it on briefly so it takes a little bit of the kink out to make my hair more manageable.  It’s still chemicals, it’s just not burning my scalp and leaving scabs. (Gross, right?  Welcome to my teenage years.) So when I get my hair did (yeah I’m going to keep saying that) I also have the stylist blow it out, flat iron it and wear it straight for a few days.

And that’s when the comments start. People who know me tend to compliment my newly pretty straight hair. (And I like being complimented. So if someone who has complimented me when my hair is straight is actually reading this, don’t think you did something wrong.) However, in these few days when I go with the straight look, it’s like my internal identity gets a little messy and I become wrapped up in a psychological hair war with myself.  

I’m constantly thinking about whether my hair is falling flat or getting frizzy or am I playing with it too much or does it look stupid when I push it behind my ears?   But those aren’t the real questions. In the back of my mind, which always finds it’s way to the front, is the voice asking “Wait, are you prettier this way?”  And right now I’m in the throes of that voice getting louder and louder because I’m on day three of straight hair.

Between that, my teenage-style angst over a guy, and the oil gushing in the Gulf, there really isn’t room for any other thoughts.  (And frankly between the hair and the angst, the Gulf just isn’t getting the kind of attention it deserves from a Capitol Hill producer.  ”What’s that you say Mr. Stupak?  You’re going to take Tony Hayward over your knee and give him a spanking on national tv?  Oh that sounds nicehas my hair totally frizzed out?”)

Let me anticipate what you’re thinking. Yes, white, Hispanic and Asian women go through this our-hair-is-our-identity drama as well. Yup. They sure do. But I always feel as though their hair isn’t synonymous with the idea that in it’s natural state it makes them less attractive to everyone.  Not just themselves but to the same sex and the opposite sex.  Sometimes that’s the thought I still struggle with.

So why even leave the salon with my hair straight if it’s going to make me, well, write BLOG POSTS?  That’s the kicker folks.  Because I do feel pretty when it’s straight. I feel like a pretty traitor to the cause of the kink and the curl.  

However, I need to free up some brain power for tomorrow , so I’m thinking, it’s time to get my hair wet in the shower and let this silly stuff curl back up.  

Dude, it’s just hair.