My Hair

My hair is language.

It is radical.

In the way it twists, curls, and straightens. In the way it breaks, tangles, and falls.

My hair is language.

My hair screams pain. From the tight braids forced onto them at a young age, to the hot comb that my mother used to silence my curls.

My hair is language.

When I finally see that I’ve patted my baby hairs down and I can walk out the door feeling accomplished, my hair sticks right back up.

My hair is petty.

Exploding my hair into an afro and walking through campus with my head held high

My hair is resistance.

Rooted in a past of shame and misery and disgust

My hair breathes freedom

My hair is language

My hair is radical

My hair is petty

My hair is resistance

My hair breathes freedom


2 thoughts on “My Hair

  1. I like your hair, I like your afro. My hair goal is to get a bigger and better afro and I like seeing you when you have your hair out because that’s what I wish for my hair to be like one day. I know that behind the curtain it’s hard to detangle and manage the curls but once you are on stage, please know that you act as an inspiration to many others. I hope/know that your natural hair will be an inspiration for one of the Black freshmen women to go natural one day.


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