I’ve always hated my hair because society told me if it wasn’t straight like a White Girl’s it wasn’t attractive. Thick, coarse, dark and nappy I have traditional Black hair. Not the cool, wavy, sexy type that Jennifer Beals had in Flashdance but the wooly mess Celie struggled with in The Color Purple.

Despite my dislike, my mother and I tried to make it attractive, in my childhood, with straightening combs,curling irons, relaxers, rollers, and hair accessories. Later, as an adolescent and adult, I tried to blow dry it, crinkle it, and have it styled like everyone from Diana Ross to Angela Davis. Still my hatred remained until I lost it, and I had to really work with what I had left. Then a funny thing happened, I started to love my hair when I saw what it could do and how it could enhance my personal style.

San Francisco and Punk:

In 1983, when I was living in San Francisco and attending SFSU I had the misfortune of attracting a stalker. Anxious and neurotic, my life became so stressful I developed shredding and my hair eventually fell out. With few options left, I finally decided to cut it off,ala Grace Jones, and Annie Lennox, and go Punk!

Unfortunately, another side effect of being constantly harassed, caused me to lose a lot of weight too, so I had to change the way I dress as well. While I didn’t have to give up, my Edie Sedgwick-style minis, I wanted to seem less vulnerable and girly, so I also started wearing straight-legged boys Levi’s, button-down shirts with rolled up sleeves, tight tees, men’s blazers, and coats and high topped Converse. Throughout this traumatic period my hair took on a totem quality, and I started to appreciate and admire its resilience.

Now I realized if my hair wasn’t Black and I wasn’t a “fuzzy wuzzy” instead of a “slicky wicky”it could never look as cool as it did. Of course, I got a lot of backlash from African-Americans who’d never seen a Black Punk before, but I didn’t care, because they didn’t know what I was going through. I was surviving, and that’s all that mattered to me then.

Breast Cancer and Chemo:

Due to the impossibility that stalker made out of my life back in the 80s I was forced to come back to Los Angeles and finish my BA program at CSULA. Mirroring my childhood with a variety of unsatisfactory and nondescript styles I wasn’t happy with my hair again until it fell out following chemotherapy after dealing with Stage II A Breast Cancer from 2010 to 2014.

“My hair keeps falling out and won’t grow,” I complained to the rep at the American Cancer Society one day over the phone. “Stop using chemicals and it will grow,” she advised.

One day, while waiting at the bus stop, a woman asked me “Have you ever thought about getting your hair braided?” Up to that moment I hadn’t thought about it, but I realized maybe it was time to try it to solve my hair issues. Setting up an appointment with her at her chair at a barbershop, we entered into a hair weaving relationship until she ended it due to scheduling conflicts.

Allesa Willis:

Stuck again, without a solution to my hair problem, I was talking to Malik, owner of Malik Books one day about finding another braid technician and he told me his sister Allesa did hair.

Calling her and setting up an appointment to get my hair palm rolled we entered into a relationship that’s still going strong. Artistic and an all-around, renaissance woman, the magic she’s worked with my hair has caused it to grow extensively and become my favorite again. Long and pleasantly face-framing it is even caused someone to remark one day, “Your hair is the perfect style for you and makes you look very attractive.”

Sometimes used as a toy by the special ed students I work with as a Special Education Instructional Assistant for LAUSD I often wear it back in a ponytail or a messy bun. Regardless, it accentuates my current style effectively and has grown into a lifelong natural coiffure I hope to wear for years.