life etc.

Afro-Mania.

solange knowlesFor a little over a year now, I’ve had a hair crush on Solange Knowles, like serious hair crushing where I find myself buying hair care products and day dreaming about taking out my braids and getting all kinds of Solange Knowles afro down pat. A dream I am still dreaming and the struggles are real people. I want Solange hair. I mean, I have Solange hair but I don’t. My natural hair is an afro, a big ball of too much hair, the farther you dig in the more hair just appears. I’m not a hairy person, I hardly ever need to shave my legs and when I do, it takes its sweet time growing back but I have hair on my head, like a lot. And I would like it to be Solange type of hair. Any of the ones pictured will do me good dear God.

Having an afro is no meant feat, it looks cool, Solange’s always looks so damn cool  but it is hard to come by the Solange Knowles type of hair cool, trust me its a thing, but I’ve no patience to do hard with hair, life is hard enough as it is. You know what I mean?

There is something ever so fun and fabulous about an afro, intrinsically cool and devil may care, but I don’t know that I can rock such big hair and do it justice. Having an afro comes with a certain attitude that I lack. I’ve tried to work it, trust me I’ve faked it and made it all the way home, but I was silently petrified inside, wondering if people were pointing and laughing at the big mop of hair walking down the street and despite getting so many compliments, I couldn’t wait to get home, come it out and throw it in one bunch like I normally do. What a bore.

Hair is serious business for both sexes, no matter your preference; buzz cut, Trump comb over, wig, weave, afro, perm, curly, straight… hair matters and I guess that’s why I can justify sitting eight hours to braid my hair. Yes EIGHT! every three months in the year. And another eight to take it out, if you count the two hours it takes for me to wash and blow-dry my hair at home, then you could say I give my fair share of sacrifice to the cause of good hair. Y’all know what good hair is right?

My braids aren’t the single plait Katniss type fishtail braid, oh I wish, nor are they cornrows, these are micro Brandy type braids. Remember when Brandy wanted to be down, sittin’ up in her room? Yeah those braids. And they are a torture but I love fake hair of all kinds, be it the Brazilian wig, Japanese weave or whatever else kind of weave/wig is out there. I love me some fake hair and the sacrifices often become inconsequential once the fake hair in in. Its a labour of love.

That being said, I’ve always had a tumultuous relationship with hair because I want what I cannot have but I do believe that I deserve it, yes colour me entitled when it comes to hair because I am. Once, I cut my hair in a bid to teach my ex-boyfriend a lesson…don’t ask, it doesn’t sound as smart light years later, but at the time it had the desired effect. However, it was a task and a half to maintain; short hair is really not the jam, especially in the mornings when time is a luxury you cannot spare fighting with the straightening iron, another thing I never mastered, or trying to master how to make a wayward strand stay. Growing my hair back to where it is today, took several years, years because I’m blessed with the luck of the fro so my hair does not grow as quick as say a caucasian’s, latina’s etc. In its natural state, my hair can be wild and when wet, curly and unruly, almost Solange-like but combing it out is like seven levels of hell; tangles!! The amount of combs I’ve broken is enough testament.

Hair wash days when my afro hair dresser is out of town are a nightmare but because I braid my hair ever so often I only have to wash it every two to three months but regularly moisturise my scalp. I can only trust a few people with my hair, my afro hairdresser and my braid hairdresser, there is nothing like having someone know the history of your hair and just how to take care of it. I trust these two women with my life…basically. It’s either that or a hairline that starts in the middle of my head. I have a big enough forehead as it is so we don’t need to add more dimension to that.

The braiding process is not for the faint of heart. I can’t imagine sitting through eight hours of anything is fun but its a better alternative to chemically straightening my hair which will eventually make it brittle and kill off its elasticity; for an afro hair like mine, elasticity is all essential to longevity. The period between my braids is known as my Solange moment, I obsess over way too many Solange afro hair styles, buy way too many hair care products, experiment way too much with my long suffering hair; hours of my life spent before a mirror, checking it out from all angles before eventually throwing in the towel and going back to the safety of braids. Ugh!

I want Solange hair, if you know how, if there is someone I can talk to about this…anything, please help a sista out.

afro image here