My awakening, came when I had a spiritual jumpstart. I had some sort of dream I don’t precisely remember, that very day on Facebook one of my contacts posted about Mwali and the Njelele. I was hooked on all things African pride
Ain’t nobody got time for a bad hair day…. and that’s really how I happened to do the big chop. Over the months I was going to have a love hate relationship with my natural 4C hair, pregnancy blues were not helping. All my big chop sisters know that TWA stage to awkward length hair. If not a girl not yet a woman was an actual hair length discription. Wigs and I also happen to be in laws.
I have never had any qualms with cutting my hair, it grows out in not time. Not super fast, but it’s not like waiting for the rain in a desert. It happens all in due time. Plus my vain teenage years at St. Columbus High, showed me I am not my hair, I got used to the dude in me. My challenge was staying away from that addictive crack called relaxer. Truly I’m a sucker for pain, I got scalp burns, ouch, one too many times. Still something kept pulling me to relaxer.
My awakening, came when I had a spiritual jumpstart. I had some sort of dream I don’t precisely remember, that very day on Facebook one of my contacts posted about Mwali and the Njelele. I was hooked on all things African pride.
I grew my hair out, stopped wearing weaves. I got comfy with my kinky coils. They actually became my pride. Then as fate would have it I bumped into some naturalistas. It was game over for relaxer, weaves and anything that felt foreign to my 4C hair. Don’t get me wrong I’m all for ladies with relaxed hair, it doesn’t make them less African. My ancestors had a plan for me, they came to me in a dream. Told me the gravity defying hair is my crown.
Mfumukazi is my stage name, I am a poetess. My trade mark is braids, locs or my fro and bare feet. I’m not writing off weaves, for now they don’t fit my journey for now. My journey seeks to bring me closer to the ten thousand ancestors whose blood was shed so I could have a choice in how I wear my hair. My hair became a tribute, part of falling in love with all my flaws. Flaws that were really termed so, by the first Worlds standard of beauty. I set my own standards, embraced my dark skin, Africaness and kinky coils.
So my hair journey is a love story. Falling in love with my struggles, falling in love with my version of beautiful. Falling in love with who I am, and actually having the courage to be who I am. Despite Beyoncé and Naomi Campbell being the X that marks the world’s beauty spot.
My hair journey no way undermines any African woman who chooses to wear their hair differently. That’s the beauty of it, I can blow out and Beyoncé this 4C hair, or Lauryn Hill loc it with Marley hair. Like I said my hair journey is a love story, I love it’s versatility. It’s on going, everyday I’m a different person. So don’t be shocked to see me back in my inches. For now I’m exploring the hell out of this 4C with a mix of 4B hair. Everyday I’m amazed. Curly hair is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get.