For almost twenty years I walked with a crutch. For years it felt like a permanent part of me. It caused me to have unwavering confidence. I relied on it knowing that it helped me stand up with certainty. It required little to no maintenance. My level of dependency was acceptable in my estimation, because made me feel complete. Now that I try to see myself without it, to wean myself from the dependency, I instantly feel vulnerable. How do I live without my weave? During my many visits to the salon, I told myself that this would be my last time sitting through the laborious process of hair weaving. The many hours I spent with my hair stylist as she weaponized herself with needle and thread to install my store brought Remy hair, is shameful. But as it is said, there pains of beauty and achieving beauty comes at a cost. I paid the cost by losing time, money, and hair. The time I spent in the weave chair, rationalizing it as a moment of pampering, I could have been developing a hair regiment of my own. Anyone that knows anything about getting a weave knows how expensive it is. Suffice it to say, I have invested enough money to have shares in the hair used to weave or any of the products. And lastly, my own hair loss was the costliest of them all. My hair weaving journey began because except for my pregnancies, my hair is very thin. So, being vain and wanting a fuller look, I sacrificed what was left of my weakened hair follicles to have the new and improved version of myself, a full head weave. Over a period of time, I told myself that I should give my hair a break from the weave process. I did not. My version of giving my hair a break from weaving was the application of a permanent with a ponytail. Now of course I lied to myself by thinking that this was a healthier alternative to weaving. It wasn’t. I was only consoling myself by thinking that applying less weave was a sensible solution negating the chemicals that were now part of the equation.
In April of 2020, the world was forever changed by a highly infectious disease called Covid 19. This pandemic caused the closures of many institutions and businesses. It affected life as we knew by eliminating person to person close contact. This included barber shops and salons. With no end in sight to this crisis, it was time to deal with reality. My weave removal was overdue. On April 24th 2020, my husband grabbed the scissors and proceeded to remove my weave. His technique likened to the precision he uses to meticulously mow the lawn. Although he made a valiant effort to salvage most of my hair, there was not a lot that could be saved. As he commenced to cut my damaged strands, he commented, “its only hair. It will grow back. When I met you, you had a short hair.”
So, here I sit, faced with my new reality, being weave less. I am now forced to do the very thing that I spent so many years trying to avoid. Maintaining and accepting what is often referred to as my crown of beauty, begrudgingly. I wish that it was beautiful to me. But right now, my crown of beauty is short thin gray hair. Although it may sound superficial, this isn’t the me that I’m ready see or to share with the world.
A while ago, I purchased a wig. I did this because my hair stylist was on vacation. So, this was going to be my way of keeping up the healthy hair façade. My pacification was only temporary because wearing a wig requires a stocking cap as a layer of protection for your hair. The stocking cap prevents damage from the wig but simultaneously pulls your hair. This was also problematic because, being a woman of a certain age, I instantly felt the heat on my head. Everyone may not experience this, but I did. I literally could not stand the heat. My topical inferno caused me to reconsider wearing a wig.
I chose to share my hair conundrum because I am still on the journey of acceptance of my new do. I also chose to share my story because I’m sure that I am not the only person that is facing this dilemma. Although I appreciate my newfound connection with my hair, I’m still trying to navigate through all that is involved in natural haircare. To put it simply, it is a lot of work. For so long, I’ve been spoiled by the convenience of wearing someone else’s hair, managing my own hair is now foreign to me. I have learned that what you resist will often persist. There is no avoiding my new reality. I am confident that through proclivity and perseverance, I will get through this. I am looking forward to being reacquainted with the real me.