firmly rooted and beautiful

beautiful.

**if you are one of those women that i have met in the last few weeks that know indira, and have openly scorned my natural hair, have a seat, because this pertains to you.**

this is my second time growing my hair as nature intended her to be.
i've been relaxing my hair for so long now, i can't distinguish a starting age in my memory bank. i decided to big chop around 2008, and i discovered stubborn hair full of lazy, half hearted, confused curls, and i loved her. 2010, i decided that natural wasn't doing it for me anymore, hugely because my natural hair tends to make me look younger than i am, and that is something i reallllyyyy can't afford, and so i gave her a chill pill, and relaxed her. and she looked HOT! and i loved it. the latter part of 2011, i summoned up the courage, to do something i have always wanted to do. i chopped her all off. all of it. and i loved it! she was fabulous. september 2012, i started growing my hair back, from less than any inches, to where i am today, rockin' her in baby twists and celebrating the fact that my lazy, half hearted, confused curls can now be coaxed into a puff.

i've always been proud of my hair in her natural state, i've never paid any attention to the process we've labeled as the 'awkward stage'. i've never shamed her into thinking she is not worthy of her shine, just because she is too short, yet too long....she is always where she needs to be, just as i am.
going out, i've always loved being one of the very few females rockin' my own hair. no braids, no weaves, but root to tip, my own.

now, being on my second natural hair journey, sometimes i put a pretty dress on her and wrap her up, sometimes i dress her up in cornrows, and sometimes i take my baby twists out for car rides, walks, and dates with my love proudly, each bobby pin in it's place, yet the looks i get remind me that free beauty is lost to the eye of the weave wearer.

my sisters from many other misters, traipsing around in long ass weaves taken from indira, continually try to demean and embarrass my baby twists, by trying to make her roots feel inferior to their tracks.

and this baffles me. i've created, and just about perfected the 'no honey, that look of superiority you're trying to give my hair, is what we are not going to do today' look,  and whenever my hair finds herself in such situations, i infuse love, and confidence into her roots, causing her to respond to my affection, thus shining.

your tracks don't compare to my roots. the roots i tend to, and love, and trust to be who she wants to be. the roots that connect with my history, the roots that branch off into many different spiral, curly journeys, shining itself towards sunlight and freedom. ownership. my roots.

sistahs, i love you, i do, i think you and indira's tresses make a beautiful team, but let's get one thing straight, my hair, existing in whatever label you feel compelled to give her, is beautiful. and her journey to existing, is beautiful.

the smile my daughter gets on her face when she tugs on my baby twists, reminds me of that beauty every day. my. ownership. hair is beautiful.

love.