I’m balding. That’s right. I said it. My hair is beginning to thin out on one side. This is disheartening to say the least. I am struggling to find different ways to wear it to hide the fact that some of it is disappearing.

 I noticed the change a few months ago. I was boycotting the flat iron and decided that I would only wear my hair in its naturally curly state. This is difficult for me because my curls, for all their loveliness, are uneven. There is no uniformity to make me feel comfortable with my mane. It has always been this way. To counteract the tenacious tendrils, I started wearing them in a bun. The bun is sleek, smooth, and classic. No one can call me out for being unruly, uncouth, or afro-centric.

Two months ago, I started a job that I love. I wore my hair in that bun every day for the first month. I could feel my scalp denting from the pressure of bobby pins. I could see more hair disappearing. But what was the alternative? Wear it out? Be a sloppy, uneven mess? No chance. That idea didn’t match the image that I had of the institution—or of myself working there.  I decided that I’d rather go back to the flat iron for a week or two…give my hair a chance to breathe (under the heat of a thousand suns).

Heat wasn’t the answer either. I saw split ends appearing where they had not been before. I was doing more harm than good. Was there no safe space for my hair?

I finally decided to let go and do what was best for me. I washed my hair, moisturized my curls, swept them up in a stylish comb, and walked out the door. This was my first time wearing my curls “out” in months. What would be the response and reception from my co-workers? What would my boss think?

The response was so universally positive that I wondered what my hesitation was to begin with. It was me. I was so hung up on this image that I had of myself fitting into this environment that I was afraid to take care of myself. I can’t blame this one on any racism or bigotry that I experienced first-hand; but on a systematic insinuation that my natural hair is somehow less than acceptable. I believed the hype. I fell for the okie-doke, and I have no one to blame but myself.

Today’s Task: Love yourself for whom and what you are you are. I love my hair. I want it to be free without personal fear of someone’s commentary. You can internalize the projections of beauty. But as for me and my hair, we will serve ourselves. Rest assured, if someone tries to touch it I will cut a B----. But I will not walk in apprehension. I will walk in me! Have the courage to do the same.