I mentally fell off the deep end during the first 2 weeks of 2017. I was in a very low place that I couldn’t climb out of. Like floating untethered into the darkness of the universe. After some long and hard deliberation I came to the conclusion it was time to let go. Of a lot of excess baggage. One being this hair. Time to being the next ‘hair’ chapter.

I’ve spent nearly 7 years nurturing, twisting, oiling and caring for my locks which in itself has been a very spiritual process. The love that goes into the ritualistic maintenance is something I will always carry with me. That being said now that they are gone, I can say I will not miss them.





It took me roughly 5 days of combing to unravel this bounty of hair I didn’t even know I had. I went from years of relaxing, texturizing, colouring  (during which my hair never grew past my chin due to all the chemical damage) to then chopping my hair to roughly two inches of length before staring my locks. Part of the reason I didn’t comb them out sooner was because I was afraid of what I might find.

Imagine that. I’ll be 30 this year and this is the first time I’ve seen my own hair, in its natural state since I was about 8 years old. Afraid of my own hair. How ludicrous does that sound? I was sincerely worried that by the time I was able to complete the process I wouldn’t have any hair left. Afraid that I’d be left walking these streets feeling even less feminine than before. Afraid of having even less sense of self expression. I know some of you out there will not connect with this. This post is really for all my fellow women of colour whom truly understand the power our hair holds. The importance and art of expression that comes with our wild manes, how liberating it is to mold and transform our permanent coiled crowns.



I’m like a kid in a candy store and all the candy is free. Where to even begin. So many styles so little timeeeee. Can’t explain how liberated I feel.

I guess the moral of this story is that fear ain’t done no good for anybody. I’m not saying it’s not difficult to be brave. If this year has taught me one thing, its that fear is the most irrelevant emotion. Not to be confused of course, with caution. But being cautious and being scared don’t have to simultaneously hold hands.

Since this year has begun I’ve tried things a little differently. I’ve leant closer, peered deeper (heart still racing) at things that truly frighten me. This hair was one of the first steps of many. I mean fuck, Trump is president and dispite it all, my people we are still standing.

Imagine, I was going to chop it all off instead of combing it through. I thought I was going to end up looking like this guy.


The Universe works in mysterious ways. It’s actually crazy how much literal weight I lost. All the ‘stuff’ I’d been carrying tightly woven into all this huur. The dome is feeling emancipated, and receptive.

Fuck fear in 2017.


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